U Books

*Gonzalez' diary entries from 1989-1992--an excellent window to see firsthand how contemporary tribal governments work and how Native Americans on reservations interact with each other on a daily basis.

*Commentary (called chronicles)by Elizabeth Cooke-Lynn explaining events described in the diary entries including Gonzalez' efforts in stopping the payment of $100 million claims commission for the Black Hills in 1980, and his efforst in Europe from 1981 to 1984 to get the World Court to issue an advisory opinion on the illegal confiscation of the Black Hills.

*Appendices that include a complete chronology of Sioux land claims from the signing of the 1851 treaty up to the present--a must for anyone interested in Indian land claims.

*Excellent footnotes with valuable information found no where else including information about Chief Crazy Horse's family members contained in the probate records of Chief Crazy Horse's father.

This book is FASCINATING and should appeal to everyone! IT SHOULD BE REQUIRED READING IN EVERY NATIVE AMERICAN STUDIES CLASS!

There is as much social history as military here, as Mr. Martin describes his inoculation with smallpox, his shock at being introduced to a white Connecticut farmwoman's black husband, and the ubiquity of alcohol.

One is struck, in Mr. Martin's account, by how seldom the British /Hessians and American/French ever bothered to shoot each other. There seems to have been a consciousness of the enemy as a human being which made shooting him difficult. This could be hindsight on Mr. Martin's part, but it does jibe with the fact that the total combat death toll for the war (excluding disease and starvation) was around 5,000 on both sides.

Mr. Martin himself seems to have spent much of the war starving. He was only paid twice-- once when he signed up in 1776, and once in 1781 by French officers who dipped into their own pockets to give him a month's salary. Nor was he ever paid anything after the war by a grateful nation. Then again, given that American troops were fed by commandeering groceries, liquor and livestock from local farms, much of the nation may not have been that grateful.

You might be, though, after reading this book. I was. And it's good to remember that fighting for our nation's freedom, once upon a time, meant fighting on our own land instead of other people's.

Martin campaigned almost continuously from the beginning of the War through Yorktown (with the exception of the first winter after his initial three month service). He lived much of what have become the hallowed tales of our epic struggle for nationhood. He was at the Battles of Brooklyn, Harlem Heights and White Plains, endured Valley Forge (though for most of that winter stationed away from the camp as a forager), Monmouth, the other terrible winter encampments and Yorktown to name a few. Through it all, Martin marched, froze, starved and suffered for his service. It is remarkable that he kept at it for most of the war. (One reads of the constant lack of food (often for two or days) and is amazed that more soldiers didn't simply just quit.) It is more remarkable that he kept at it in fairly good humor - though he did parade with the Connecticut troops who conducted a minor mutiny over the lack of provisions. (An incident that Washington reported to Congress as more worrisome to the cause than the British force occupying New York.)

Martin is a good storyteller and raconteur. The reader will not find detailed accounts of battle here. In fact, battle is mentioned rather matter-of-factly. What is delightful to find is an account of the day in and day out hardships of life in Washington's army. Stories abound of camp life, foraging, marching, guard duty, scrapes with Torries, the hunt for clothing and the other ever-present challenges that soldiers had to endure and perform to simply survive between battles.

This is a wonderful book that I highly recommend.

I first encountered Stanislav Grof in the late 'seventies at a seminar held in Pacific Grove, California. He was a featured speaker, and to say that I was impressed would be an understatement.

In this book, he discusses transpersonal psychology, involving a shift in awareness. Our psychologists and psychiatrists need to engage themselves in this transformational system and get outside the accepted paradigm of the current model of reality that scientists work within today, accepting certain basic assumptions, and move on to the equivalent of the quantum theory of consciousness.

He points out in another of his books, Beyond the Brain, that the Newtonian/Cartesian paradigm (a system of thought based on the work of Isaac Newton and Rene Descartes) is still accepted and the orthodox foundation of precepts in use in psychiatry, psychology, anthropology and medicine. He points out that physics has moved on to a new paradigm: relativity and quantum theory and beyond, while the previously named sciences have languished, and opines that it is time for psychiatrists and psychologists to re-examine their fundamental belief structure as well.

Grof said, at the seminar, that he was originally--in Czechoslovakia where he originated--a dyed-in-the-wool Freudian, until he began to perceive difficulties with that approach. He grew from there. He was one of the original medical investigators to use d-lysergic acid diethylamide in serious psychiatric research, from which he derived some astonishing results.

Grof was formerly Chief of Psychiatric Research at the Maryland Psychiatric Research Center and Assistant Professor of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. He is no lightweight airhead, but rather is a highly qualified, credentialed and credible researcher. This and his other books are well worth your time, if you have the necessary vocabulary and the scientific background to benefit from them.

Grof makes a bold argument that understanding of the perinatal and transpersonal levels changes much of how we view both mental illness and mental health. His research in transpersonal experience evokes serious questions into such areas as reincarnation and the spritual side of the human being.

Joseph (Joe) Pierre,

author of The Road to Damascus: Our Journey Through Eternity
and other books

Grof builds a carefully laid out tapestry of thought unlike any other writer. Boldly going into dimensions that the orthodoxy fears, Grof consistently shows us that the best findings are often the result of adventurous undertakings.

One must truly venture into uncharted territories in order to discover hidden, powerful forces in the world.

All of Grof's work makes for a rich intellectual and spiritual treasure that will be edifying humankind indefinitely.

People in this arresting collection of pictures are caught up in all kinds of ordinary pursuits--reading, working, dining, marrying, praying, talking, playing games, posing in lovely clothes, getting haircuts, making music or speeches or dinner--in a spirited, generally trustful relationship with the camera. Clearly Willis's criterion as she selected photographs was, as she says in the text, "expressive power."

Still, white Americans viewing these pictures are likely to bring to the experience the same old images of slavery, Civil Rights marches, and past or present media caricatures of black life that they've drawn from school and popular culture all their lives. Perhaps the delightful photographs of children in the book will take on ominous overtones because we know of future trials the childish mind can't predict. But such a reaction can keep us from realizing that what's on the child's mind may be partly the point.

For example, two Boston children have been posed in front of ornate ironwork, wearing starched lace dresses (it's 1910) and starched bows in their hair. They look beautiful--and stiff, and miserable! Good little girls, they've let Mother dress them up today, but they seem to want to tear off those enormous bows, jump the iron fence, and tumble around on the grass like anyone else their age.

Another example: Malcolm X crouches to hold his two daughters in his arms. He's talking to little Attallah, his eyes warmly upon her. But she turns away from her father's handsome face to stare unhappily at the audience, as if asking us just to go away for a change and give her some private time with Dad.

If the original vitality in these photographs can't keep us from calling up the preconceptions we carry around with us, this may actually be useful. The book's very freshness about what seems familiar makes us realize how old and worn-out our assumptions can be. Thus the photographs can (as Willis says in her introduction) "create a new ý historical consciousness that has the power to rewrite history itself."

But "Reflections in Black" is more than a documentary that can provoke useful debates within ourselves and between groups interpreting past or present culture. It shows that despite their commonalities black photographers have a long history of debating with each other. Is their medium an art or an engine of social progress? Should photography make mementos for its subjects or involve and change its viewers? The competing purposes and conflicting angles of vision represented in the book are part of what makes it fascinating.

Best of all, the book is marvelous for simply wandering and wondering through:

A remarkable series by a photographer who eventually lived in Seattle presents a man in three poses- - seated for his formal portrait, then hanged for murder, and finally laid out in his coffin.

Women in the book are gloriously unpredictable. Billie Holliday rehearsing with Count Basie looks like a Fifties coed in sweater, plaid skirt, and ponytail. Zora Neale Hurston smiles like an angel instead of with her usual impish brass.

Men? None are alike. A nattily dressed man waits at a bright window, fedora tipped up to let in the view, papers gleaming mysteriously in the background. A lined, leathery cowboy smokes a cigarette, his arms roped with tendons. Seattle's own Jacob Lawrence looks like a serious man at twenty and equally serious midway through his life, midway up a stepladder, in reverie.

Elsewhere, a lonely stony beach caresses the eye with dark grays and liquid silver. And beside a brick building draped with a gigantic sky-blue banner painted with the face of Malcolm X, a black cowboy rides through a golden field.

I will be purchasing a few copies for friends. Others, I will tell to get their own.

It's THAT GOOD!

This is the story of César Rincón the torero (not a biography; we learn little here about César Rincón the man -- quite possibly the only aspect of the book that leaves the reader wishing for more, though we learn plenty about César's view of toreo, his personal take on its hows and whys, the nature and price of the vocation and its demands) who, in 1991, burst onto the taurine scene from nowhere (or, seemingly so -- he was so little known on the day of his first triumph in Madrid that the program listed him as Venezuelan), managing performances that saw him carried out through the Puerta Grande in Las Ventas on four consecutive appearances, a feat unequaled by anyone, before or since.

Just how good was César Rincón? The inescapable impression given by this book is that he was a taurine epiphany:

Josephs is without doubt a full-blooded Rincóncista, but Ritual and Sacrifice in the Corrida is no tendentiously edited hagiography. The judgments it contains are not just his -- they're from the pens of some of the most important taurine critics of Rincón's day (Andrés de Miguel, Vicente Zabala, Norberto Carrasco, Joaquín Vidal, Michael Wigram and José Carlos Arévalo), writing with Rincon's performances still vivid from the previous days' events. Josephs gives us his eye-witness accounts whenever possible, but generously supplements them with the opinions of other commentators.

This is a stunningly successful book, unlike any taurine work published in English in decades. Without question, Josephs has given us a work that will, for years, sit comfortably alongside the best of Hemingway, the best of Conrad, the best of Fulton and Tynan -- destined to be one of the more re-read works in any taurine bibliophile's library.

Rincón was essentially unknown to Josephs in 1991, and the germ of this book took root slowly as Rincón began to stun the Spanish afición (and Josephs) with his performances during that year's Iberian temporada. The idea for the book chrystalized in the spring of 1992, in Plaza Santa Ana -- a Madrid neighborhood dripping with taurine history and activity -- during a chat with Michael Wigram. Josephs set out to follow Rincón, documenting his career trajectory, from Spain back to the Americas, back to Spain, to the Americas, over and over until the end of the 1995 season when Rincón, suffering from a resurgence of hepatitis "C," announced his retirement, intending to swap the role of torero for that of ganadero.

Written with the aid of unusual access to a torero's inner circle, this is not simply an insider's view of the taurine circuit (as might be, for example, a detailed diary kept by a torero). Josephs didn't travel as part of Rincon's entourage. But it is likely as intimate a view as anyone will soon provide. Josephs shadowed Ricón, his manager and cuadrilla for four years -- benefitting greatly from their assistance, attending every corrida he could manage, describing in great detail what he saw (how the public reacted, and how the authority and critics judged). He had access that only a personal relationship with a torero can provide -- to hotel suites before and after successful and disastrous corridas, to sorteos, to the callejon, to tientas, to family gatherings on ganaderias and in Rincon's home, to hospital/infirmary rooms, to post-corrida de-briefings with critics and ganaderos, and more.

Faenas are described in near photographic detail, both the good, the bad, and the all-too-commonly mundane. Although the degree of taurine detail may prove more-than-a-little daunting for anyone outside or new to the mundo taurino, Josephs has seized on a clever way of avoiding bad translation of taurine terms while simultaneously keeping the narrative clear of repeated explanatory asides. All terms that would not be done justice by clumsy translation into English are left in their Spanish forms, accompanied by explanatory asides only the first time they appear in the text. Supsequent appearances remain in Spanish and an index of defined appearances is provided for readers who didn't absorb the meaning of a term the first time around.

Althouh this is Rincón's saga, Josephs' eyes aren't focused on Rincón alone. Had they been, no proper assessment of Rincón would have been possible. Though bullfighting isn't a contest between matador and bull, one can't really judge a matador's mettle without seeing him alongside his peers, each trying to tease the best out of the unpredictable complexity of the animals drawn each afternoon. Fortunately, Josephs doesn't slight Rincón's rivals (most noteworthy among them, Enrique Ponce and Joselito), giving everyone their due. We're provided a very balanced view of years of performances, the good and the bad, solidly retained in the natural context. To back every judgment we're given dates and locations (no need to take Josephs' word alone for the quality of performances observered; we're everywhere pointed to sources that can confirm the observations made) and detail that could only be noticed by one steeped -- as Josephs is -- in Spanish history and geography, taurine lore and fact.

All this is done without any of the dry, ponderous, academic heaviness that made Josephs' last major work (White Wall of Spain (c) 1983) so nearly impenetrable. Here the writing often seems to dance along with the improvisational pas de deux between Rincón and his partners of the afternoon.

I can't recommend this book too highly.

The relation between man and the bull is lost deep in the fog of prehistory. Some say it was the bull not agriculture that domesticated man. The corrida is one aspect of that relationship, a sign of respect and honor to a noble enemy and friend.

The book is much more than a story of bullfighting. It is a classic saga of courage and perseverance as Cesar Rincon, a Colombian, against all odds succeeds in a foreign sometimes hostile land. From the plains of southern France, across the mountains of central Spain to the difficult rings of Andalusia, Allen takes us on a whirlwind adventure that criss-cross the breath and depth of Spain as he follows Rincon in his quest for the perfect corrida.

Josephs writes in a lyrical style more in the mode of Garcia Lorca than Hemingway.

Josephs, author of the White Wall of Spain, has an innate understanding of Spain and the Spanish which he imparts to the reader.

Read Hemingway, yes, but Ritual and Sacrifice in the Corrida is a must read for anyone even vaguely interested in that most Spanish of Spanish phenomena.

This is the story of César Rincón the torero (not a biography; we learn little here about César Rincón the man -- quite possibly the only aspect of the book that leaves the reader wishing for more, though we learn plenty about César's view of toreo, his personal take on its hows and whys, the nature and price of the vocation and its demands) who, in 1991, burst onto the taurine scene from nowhere (or, seemingly so -- he was so little known on the day of his first triumph in Madrid that the program listed him as Venezuelan), managing performances that saw him carried out through the Puerta Grande in Las Ventas on four consecutive appearances, a feat unequaled by anyone, before or since.

Just how good was César Rincón? The inescapable impression given by this book is that he was a taurine epiphany:

Josephs is without doubt a full-blooded Rincóncista, but Ritual and Sacrifice in the Corrida is no tendentiously edited hagiography. The judgments it contains are not just his -- they're from the pens of some of the most important taurine critics of Rincón's day (Andrés de Miguel, Vicente Zabala, Norberto Carrasco, Joaquín Vidal, Michael Wigram and José Carlos Arévalo), writing with Rincon's performances still vivid from the previous days' events. Josephs gives us his eye-witness accounts whenever possible, but generously supplements them with the opinions of other commentators.

This is a stunningly successful book, unlike any taurine work published in English in decades. Without question, Josephs has given us a work that will, for years, sit comfortably alongside the best of Hemingway, the best of Conrad, the best of Fulton and Tynan -- destined to be one of the more re-read works in any taurine bibliophile's library.

Rincón was essentially unknown to Josephs in 1991, and the germ of this book took root slowly as Rincón began to stun the Spanish afición (and Josephs) with his performances during that year's Iberian temporada. The idea for the book chrystalized in the spring of 1992, in Plaza Santa Ana -- a Madrid neighborhood dripping with taurine history and activity -- during a chat with Michael Wigram. Josephs set out to follow Rincón, documenting his career trajectory, from Spain back to the Americas, back to Spain, to the Americas, over and over until the end of the 1995 season when Rincón, suffering from a resurgence of hepatitis "C," announced his retirement, intending to swap the role of torero for that of ganadero.

Written with the aid of unusual access to a torero's inner circle, this is not simply an insider's view of the taurine circuit (as might be, for example, a detailed diary kept by a torero). Josephs didn't travel as part of Rincon's entourage. But it is likely as intimate a view as anyone will soon provide. Josephs shadowed Ricón, his manager and cuadrilla for four years -- benefitting greatly from their assistance, attending every corrida he could manage, describing in great detail what he saw (how the public reacted, and how the authority and critics judged). He had access that only a personal relationship with a torero can provide -- to hotel suites before and after successful and disastrous corridas, to sorteos, to the callejon, to tientas, to family gatherings on ganaderias and in Rincon's home, to hospital/infirmary rooms, to post-corrida de-briefings with critics and ganaderos, and more.

Faenas are described in near photographic detail, both the good, the bad, and the all-too-commonly mundane. Although the degree of taurine detail may prove more-than-a-little daunting for anyone outside or new to the mundo taurino, Josephs has seized on a clever way of avoiding bad translation of taurine terms while simultaneously keeping the narrative clear of repeated explanatory asides. All terms that would not be done justice by clumsy translation into English are left in their Spanish forms, accompanied by explanatory asides only the first time they appear in the text. Supsequent appearances remain in Spanish and an index of defined appearances is provided for readers who didn't absorb the meaning of a term the first time around.

Althouh this is Rincón's saga, Josephs' eyes aren't focused on Rincón alone. Had they been, no proper assessment of Rincón would have been possible. Though bullfighting isn't a contest between matador and bull, one can't really judge a matador's mettle without seeing him alongside his peers, each trying to tease the best out of the unpredictable complexity of the animals drawn each afternoon. Fortunately, Josephs doesn't slight Rincón's rivals (most noteworthy among them, Enrique Ponce and Joselito), giving everyone their due. We're provided a very balanced view of years of performances, the good and the bad, solidly retained in the natural context. To back every judgment we're given dates and locations (no need to take Josephs' word alone for the quality of performances observered; we're everywhere pointed to sources that can confirm the observations made) and detail that could only be noticed by one steeped -- as Josephs is -- in Spanish history and geography, taurine lore and fact.

All this is done without any of the dry, ponderous, academic heaviness that made Josephs' last major work (White Wall of Spain (c) 1983) so nearly impenetrable. Here the writing often seems to dance along with the improvisational pas de deux between Rincón and his partners of the afternoon.

I can't recommend this book too highly.

In an introduction chapter he discusses what rock art is and types of rock art. He discusses what rock art means and refers you to other well written books. He also provides lists of emergency equipment, camping equipment and more that you should consider taking as you begin looking at rock art.

In the next chapters he tells where to go to see rock art. He also instructs the reader about the expected behavior, tours to take, and more.

There are directions for taking pictures of rock art and explanations of clothes to wear, weather, and even a few recipes for crockpot cooking... so you can cook while you are looking and come home to a nice meal. Great!

This is a very exciting book. It made me want to jump out of my seat and go looking. The pictures are nice. His enthusiasm is catching and the format is easy to understand. Well worth the money.

Enjoy