Bradshaw Books

Gillian Bradshaw's Island of Ghosts is crisp, entertaining, and well-researched, on par with the excellence of her other historical novels such as The Sand-Reckoner, Render Unto Caesar, and Cleopatra's Heir. Bradshaw is a smooth storyteller who sets a brisk pace and flavors her prose with just the right amount of authentic detail. She deserves the readership of authors in the genre such as Bernard Cornwell and Stephen Pressfield.

Island of Ghosts is about Ariantes, a Sarmatian prince who leaves behind his homeland to serve Rome in Britain, after his people are defeated by the imperialists. He struggles to maintain his cultural identity while adjusting to Roman customs enough to keep his men safe. It is an interesting story of assimilation, one that must have been enacted repeatedly as Rome overtook Gaul, Britain, and Germania. These barbarians stood up to Rome until they were forced to kneel and accept Roman dominion. How did they adapt to Roman ways? How did they reconcile their beliefs with Roman ideals? Bradshaw responds to these queries in her story of Ariantes.

this is a totally engrossing book about a very interesting period in history. I won't go into the plot since other reviewers have already done so; I just wanted to say that this book was very difficult to put down. For those who enjoy reading about Roman Britain, I also recommend Rosemary Sutcliffe's books. She is pigeon-holed under young adult fiction, but is a satisfying read for adults as well.

While Bradshaw's works always maintain a high level of excellence in writing and historical detail, this semi-classic is my favorite. It's the story of a company of Sarmatians (of what? Yeah, I'd never heard of them either) who, having been conquered by the Romans, have no choice but to join the Roman Army, and are sent to garrison the semi-rebellious Isle of Britain. History, a little romance, some great fight/action sequences, and a happy but not sappy ending. Great characters, great writing, great book! (I'd give it 5 stars, but only Jane Austen gets 5 stars from me: everybody else must bow to innate genius and be content with what I can given.)

In the Caucasus Mountains, in the little republics of the Ossetians, the inhabitants still tell stories about their medieval ancestors the Alans and their greatest heroes, the Narts. One of the Nart heroes is said to have been mortally wounded in a great battle. Knowing death was near he told one of his warriors to heave his magical saber into the Sea. The warrior departed with the sword, but intent on keeping it did not throw it into the Sea. The dying Nart does not believe him when he claims that the sword simply sank into the waters, so he angrily demands that the warrior obey him. At the final try, the warrior tells the hero that when the saber hit the waves the water roiled and boiled red, rushing upward in a great gush. Satisfied, the hero dies.

How could modern Ossetians be telling stories that sound so much like the story of King Arthur and his magical sword Excalibur? This novel contains the answer, as does the recent movie "King Arthur". "Islands of Ghosts" tells it better.

Before ending up in the Caucasus the Alans had been part of the great Sarmatian tribal confederacy, horse nomads of the steppes of southern Russia and Ukraine. At the time of the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius they were defeated in a great battle north of the Danube (remember the opening scene in "Gladiator" -- that's it). As tribute they had to provide 5,000 armored horsemen, their peculiar specialty (much like the Riders of Rohan) for service in the Roman province of Britain where they would face Pictish invasions and Celtic rebellions.

"Island of Ghosts" opens with a squadron of Sarmatians near revolt when they first spy the English Channel: they believe that somewhere to the West, on the Great Sea, lies the Island where the dead reside. Now they are convinced the Romans are sending them there deliberately. Given that the Roman officer now in command of them heartily wishes that his Sarmatian charges actually were dead, the Sarmatian leader, Prince Ariantes, has his hands full. As he leads his troops across the sea to Britain and north to the great Roman Wall, Ariantes will have to come to terms with what it means to be a loyal servant of the Empire, perhaps against the wishes of his own people. He will face enemies inside and outside the empire, the horrors of army bureaucracy, begin to become literate, and above all face the dilemma of reconciling the free warrior code of his past with his life as a soldier for civilization.

Gillian Bradshaw has written a terrific historical novel about a little known corner of Roman history, one that explains how Sarmatian stories could well end up in Britain and in the Caucasus. Her characters are drawn with considerable imagination and sensitivity. By the end of the story the reader identifies with Ariantes and his people. The fact that his solution to his problems goes a longs way towards explaining the complexity of the ancient world's heritage in modern Europe is important. I highly recommend this book for anyone who wants a good read about the Sarmatians and Rome. Even though it leaves out one curious fact: the Roman given command of the Sarmatians in actual fact was named Lucius Artorius, or as we would say, Luke Arthur.

Island of Ghosts describes the Claudian invasion of Britain from an unusual point of view, through the eyes of a Sarmatian auxiliary soldier. The scholarship is impeccable (as in her other novels), and the story is an appealing account of military life, and a love affair between people from different backgrounds. In her other books (including A Beacon at Alexandria, Cleopatra's Heir, and Render Unto Caesar) she has presented a many-sided view of life in ancient Rome. She doesn't simplify the ancient world into cardboard characters that represent stereotypes; her characters seem alive and complex. And she gets the details right... even that controversy about the use of stirrups in ancient times. I read her novels with great enjoyment, but her background in classics and history adds educational value.

I think there are a lot of good ideas in this book that have helped me and could help others, but unfortunately it was painful to get through. Bradshaw uses too much jargon and needlessly creates some of his own hokey jargon. The personal examples are all extreme cases, leaving those of us who had difficult childhoods but not Lifetime Drama-material childhoods wondering if maybe we're making too much of things. I found the lists and summaries at the end of each chapter unhelpful and irritating. Bradshaw is repetitive, and goes off on tangents too easily. I also just don't like his tone, which comes off as a bit arrogant. Given all of that, I am glad that I read this book as it gave me a lot to think about and work on. It also helped me understand that some of what I went through as a child was not normal, and had consequences for my emotional development. As I read this book I wanted to keep reading in case there was more to learn, but I kept thinking, "there must be a better written book on this subject."

This book saved my life! It is a must-read for anyone from a dysfunctional family or in an abusive relationship. Bradshaw helps you get to the heart of your hurt, heal it, and move on. He offers understanding of the dynamics at work in abusive situations, and the understanding helps to heal. He has been there, and his analyses make sense, and they let you know you are NOT insane and you are NOT a victim. His insight is empowering and gives us all hope for the future where we might not have had any. I have given several copies to my friends in crisis and truly believe this honest look inside could benefit everyone.

I was introduced to the Bradshaw Video's which aired on PBS in the 80's while I was in rehab. Not only did it answer a lot of questions for me about my childhood but it was enlightening and an eye opener for me. I bought all of his books and I highly recommend those from dysfunctional backgrounds to read his materials.

If you've done a lot of work on yourself this is well written. The word frames annoy me but the book gets to the heart of family. Not for the clueless.

John Bradshaw is an outstanding psychologist who has probed deeply into family dynamics, especially dysfunctional families. If you have ever wondered why you have trouble relating to your family "as you should" you may gain insights about your birth family and how you were treated by them. The family of origin's strengths and, more prticularly, their weaknesses will follow from generation to generation unless you gain insight into why you act/react to family members and make the necessary adjustments in your parenting style. John Bradshaw's "Bradshaw On: The Family" will help you see where you may have been damaged as a child. It is must reading for those who know there is "something wrong" but can't put their finger on it.

If you saw sex in the city movie you will love this book as it is filled with love poems like Carrie was reading.

Some of the letters are interesting, but mostly not that romantic. Definitely not the greatest letters ever, and some are not even letters at all. The formatting made it a little difficult to read. Overall it was okay, but not quite what I was hoping for based on the title.

This WOULD have been a 5-star book, but I'm sorry, the man who is the front man for the people that have been ruining our country is NOT someone's name I want to THINK about much less read in a book about LOVE.

For the VERY politically tolerant, you may like this book, but I do NOT recommend it for those who really feel a personal upset about Presidents Bush Sr. and/or Bush Jr. Ruins it, ruins it, ruins it, ruins it! Maybe 50 years from now I can stomach to read a love letter written by him -- NOT NOW...!

NOT to give as a gift to anyone who loves our country and has an inkling that the Bushes had a hand in destroying it.

Apologies up front. I've not yet read this book but my wife wants to have it very much. I gave the book 5 stars to avoid unfairly down-rating the work; (I assume it will be exactly what I expect it to be). I nearly shelled out the $50 (or higher) that this site is asking for this book. Barnes and Noble online is selling this for $8.99. I love Amazon and use it all the time but this price differential really ticks me off. How's this possible?

The hype offends. Why the 'fifty greatest love letters' of all time? Why not 'fifty great love - letters?' That too would be misleading as there are not fifty great letters here. In fact there may not even be ten. What there is is very small excerpts of a number of good love- letters, including those from some of the great love- letter writers of all- time. The tremendous letter of Elizabeth Browning to her brother George telling the story of Browning's love for her, and how it wholly changed her life is to my mind the supreme letter of the collection, and one of the greatest love - letters of all time. I am not a great fan of Simone de Beauvoir especially since learning of the true character of her relationship with Sartre but her love- letter to Nelson Algren really hits hard. Her expression of a total love, a love in happiness and pain is powerful and winning.
On the other hand Kafka one of the world's greatest letter- writers is not so well represented by the selection given here. The editor claims Hemingway's letters to Mary Welch are among the greatest love - letters ever written. The selection he gives here does not prove this.
Nonetheless there is a great deal to enjoy here. The introductions and capsule biographies before each letter often take up more space than the excerpts themselves, but they are quite interesting .
All in all as with most 'anthologies' of this kind there is valuable writing to be found in this work.

I started this book with minimal expectations. I thought it would be another book on the life of a superstar athlete admittedly one who has won 4 Superbowls.

What I found to my surprise was the story of a very modest man who did not gloat about his accomplishments and actually was happy to make fun of himself and his supposedly lack of intellect.

Terry Bradshaw writes with humour and will discuss his many failures with the candor that is rare.

In the last few chapters, he gives some useful tips on life and I found that they came off pretty well.

Great book.

I could hardly put this book down. Very interesting stories about his childhood, football career from grade school through the pros and life after the NFL. All the things that went on during his career in the NFL. I found this book very enjoyable. He doesn't hide anything and I admire his honesty.

This is one of the funniest autobiographies I have ever read. Several times during the course of my reading, my wife feared for my sanity as I laughed hysterically. Two incidents in particular had me howling: Terry's adventure with the horse, and when his Dad opened the box from the marketing firm.
Terry has always been one of my football heros and now I have a great deal of respect for him as a person. This account is warm, funny, and honest. By the way, he called his own plays . . .

This book covered everything I hoped to hear about - from college QB thru Pittsburgh and into TV's best pre-game show. The book is fast paced, enjoyable throughout and quite informative. All that's missing is a couple of one-on-one hours with Terry to ask more about everything.

TERRY BRADSHAW PERSONIFIES HUMOR. I REALLY ENJOYED THIS BOOK FOR VARIOUS REASONS. I ENJOYED HIS RETELLING OF HIS STEELERS DAYS AND HIS RELATIONSHIPS WITH VARIOUS TEAMATES. HIS DOWN TO EARTH HONESTY IS ANOTHER FACET I FOUND REFRESHING. AND ABOVE ALL WAS HIS STORY TELLING OF HIS EXPERIENCES IN THE BROADCASTING BUSINESS. I ENJOY THE PREGAME HYPE WITH BRADSHAW AND HIS 3 COHORTS EACH WEEK. HE HAS CERTAILY GROWN OVER THE YEARS, HE CAN POKE FUN AT HIMSELF AND YET BE SERIOUS ABOUT THINGS IN LIFE. VERY RECOMMENDED FOR ANYONE WHO ENJOYS HUMOR A GREAT STORY TELLER.

It is no small irony that Schmidt takes his title from his curmudgeonly Eighteenth Century ancestor, Samuel Johnson. The irony is that Johnson, while judgmental, was at least interesting in his thundering declarations.

I cannot for the life of me understand why all the other reviewers find this work daring or controversial. Schmidt says nothing new. He is, in fact, the most diplomatic of judges. And I challenge any reader to find an unequivocal take on any of the poets. He inevitably has both good and bad things to say.

A further irony is that the title of the book is a misnomer. Yes, Schmidt provides a few scanty biographic facts, but a better title might be The History of Metrics or something of the sort. The book is mostly concerned with the form English poetry has taken over the past several hundred years.

Above all, Schmidt hates exegetics. Don't expect in depth explorations of a poem's meaning or the evaluation of poet's oevre. Truly, this book reads like a hopscotch through the history of meter and rhyme. No wonder it only took him ten months to write the 900 or so pages. He didn't have to think!

Schmidt's history opens with an occasion on which he chaired a debate between Heaney, Walcott and Brodsky, contemporary giants - hence a portrait of himself in situ with the Gods - but its true opening scene is a typically more casual one mentioned in aside - where he tells us that his father disclaimed any further interest in his prospects when he announced his intention to publish poetry; he had put himself beyond the pale, made himself "a gambler" at best, and it is this chatty comfortableness along with self aggrandizement which holds the charm of this survey. Schmidt's paternal conference has the air of "Brideshead Revisited" as the painter Charles's father wonders aloud what became of a cousin who had run through his allowance early, gone off to Australia perhaps? Wherever possible in his account of the poets from Langland and Gower to his own stable of Khalvatis and Cissons Schmidt tries to give the impression that he was there, in spirit if not in person, and it is his identification of publishers' base motives not less than poets' fleeting visions which conspire to make this not so much a critical sourcebook as a story of how English poetry wound its roots into a tree.

Of the eighteenth century Tory publisher and clubman Tonson, whose Kit Kat club saw writers gathering with him to eat superb pies, he remarks that it was clever of him to gather writers round him so that he could pick off their completed works like berries ripened off the bush. It is just possible, he allows, that writers and publisher actually enjoyed each other's company socially. Of the printer who bought out Milton's copyright from his widow for an additional eight pounds after a total payment of fifteen, he observes that this was a good buy. The fathers of poets are viewed by Schmidt companionably as "men of substance", if they have wealth, and the sorry ends of poets who do not have such means or a career besides come to seem regular as passing calendar leaves. Spenser's work went up in flames, he ended very poor. Charlotte Mayhew, a favourite of Hardy's, consigned to a friend the copy of her poem taken in that great man's hand, and drank bleach. These, as well as the publishers' copyists, scribes and outgoings for paper are the cost of eloquence: a life in foolscap.

What emerges from the trawl of centuries is a generalism not common in this age of political axe grinders for critics: Schmidt sees that the ageing rebel turned conservative Wordsworth ("the silent muser had become the comfortable talker") echoes across centuries the radical turned arch-conservative Eliot, both critics in their age who turned their backs on ground broken. A half page on the dogs at poets' sides and what they tell us of their owners - Pope, Byron, Elizabeth Barret - is a gem. The readings of the poets are quirky but often fair: Browning left nine tenths of his work not worth re-reading, but that leaves a tenth that stands, a huge amount. Donne gets a quick seeing to - too clever and abstruse - Raleigh, with his deathbed nerves of steel, is "a man of flesh and blood". More often than not it is a chain of well chosen adjectives that makes Schmidt's prosecution or defense briefly and irrefutably - Johnson, despite his sloth, had "put so many projects into motion" that he achieved them, Dryden was happy to be top of his heap and did not "struggle with himself" to get higher. He quotes the great critics and sources so regularly - Aubrey, Wharton, Hazlitt, Eliot - that the intrusion of an occasional croney of his own - Cissons, Donald Davies - draws you up short. We had come to believe Schmidt was ensconced there in the Mermaid Tavern, what does this latter day vaingloriousness here? In these bowings to others' views he sometimes loses his tone - at his best he either lifts great critical cases outright or makes his own gruff motions to the jury, often digging up a soul long lost to view in the dungeons of posterity's Old Bailey.
It is a vast book. I have still not reached the twentieth century, though those I've browsed of the contemporary listings do not retain his scabrous touch. Pity. He leaves to other publisher-writers the honour of regaling us with tales of chicanery in his own poets' contracts. Or he reveres too much his comfortable perch with them to risk scaring his own poets from his own pie shop. Still. It's not possible to skip while reading through his earlier centuries. His greatest achievement is to make English poetry live like a story you do not wish to miss parts of - you never know when Burns will echo Piers Ploughman, you do not know when Schmidt's map, like a three dimensional model, will let you see the Pearl poet peeping up at the bottom of the sea beneath a fishing trip by some contemporary craft.

Schmidt's boldness is nearly unmatched among literary critics. For this reason alone, his book, Lives of the Poets, is a stimulating read. Of course, there are problems with the book. He spends nearly a third of his book on the last fifty years, after swiftly encompassing the rest of English poetical history in the first two thirds. A few glaring omissions are almost unforgivable, such as James Merrill and A.R. Ammons. One must remember, however, that Schmidt is a publisher by trade, and not really a literary critic. Even Samuel Johnson wrote about bad poets, though it may have been his advisors who pushed for such a shift of emphasis. In the end, one is often refreshed and enlightened by this book.

A great value, this book contains lots of fax 'n' info about the important and not-so-famous poets. Schmidt combines chronology with history and attempts a kind of psychobiography or mentalistic theory to try to get inside the minds of the poets. This approach, though it strikes me as somewhat culturally German, is I think quite effective. Schmidt is not a scholar but an enthusiast of poetry whose love of the material is overwhelming. And I also think Schmidt is an excellent teacher. He mentions that Spenser was highly influential up through the first half of the twentieth century, and from my recent browsing in the tradition, I could confirm this statement for myself. He also points out that Shelley is a great guide for budding poets, and I think that this is the kind of specific generosity that brings out the best in Shelley. Recently I've been reading Dryden's poetry and prose on the strength of Schmidt's recommendations. As for one reviewer's umbrage at the description of Spenser as small hands, etc., well so what? It's just--gasp--friendly irony at best, Germanic sarcasm at worst. Nobody thinks any less of Samuel Johnson for being ole blood 'n' guts Dr. Johnson with big appetites and, like Schmidt, strong opinions--but unlike Schmidt, smack in the middle of the English tradition, probably never even spent a weekend in Cabo San Lucas. So there!

I can't believe I read the whole thing. You may find yourself saying the same thing too I you should so choose to tackle Schmidt's lengthy analysis on the history of English poetry. With that statement I suppose is the warning. Reading this book from cover to cover is probably not for the average reader. You have to really love poetry and not just the language but what goes into it, what resides behind the words in the fabric of each poet's life. The book is not without merit though for the casual poetry semi-enthusiast. It is also a pretty enjoyable read for quick bite analysis. Pick it up, turn to an era, poet, or genre, and away you go for a quick 10-15 minute before going to sleep read. I was reluctant to give this book 4 stars tending towards a lower rating due to the weightiness, but the fact that I made it through speaks to the entertaining value of Schmidt's writing. To make literary analysis readable is no small feat.

Michael Schmidt is not without opinions. You may find yourself vehemently in disagreeance or enthusiastically joining the choir and singing along. For instance, Schmidt pretty much holds low opinion of the likes of Alan Ginsburg and his use of mind altering drugs to create poetry with little form. "Ginsburg dropped on American poetry like a bomb; his generation outgrew him and American poetry has outgrown him." It's not so much that Schmidt has an opinion. Of literary criticism, that is to be expected. But instead, it is that Schmidt offers up his opinions as imperatives, absolutes not to be countered.

Reading Schmidt's book it's as if all of English poetry revolves around Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot. He is downright ebullient in his praises of the two. "After Pound we read poetry differently." and "In The Waste Land he demanded to be read differently from other poets. He alters our way of reading for good, if we read him properly." And so it goes in Schmidt's world poetic view of the ushering in of modernism. Elsewhere, Schmidt decries the loss of formal verse or at least verse that respects formalism. It is here that he finds the true poet's art. Again an opinion presented as an imperative.

Schmidt is in need of conciseness. He is self-critical is his choosing of format biting off too much swallowing too little. He spends precious pages to launch campaigns for regional poets, virtual unknowns, and underappreciates. These are pages, he could be spending making a case for his St. Eliot and St. Pound sainthood. If a poet caters to a specific culture with a specific language virtually unintelligible to the rest of the English speaking world, why be inclusive? Toss 'em out and save 'em for the regional anthologies. Sorry about the preceding colloquial language, friends.

With all this criticism, Schmidt's massive book is a treasure for poetry lovers. It is high brow in places, but when you finish reading the whole thing or just bits and pieces you will know more about poetry, appreciate more in depth poetry, and be indebted to the history and love of language that precedes us and will succeed us. Literary infinitum by good friends. Read on.

More issues of Danger Girl. If you know the Danger Girls, you know what you're into with this one. Is more of the same adventures of these girls trying to save the world at the most pure Charlie's Angels or James Bond style.

The only thing I complain about in this issue is that Sydney doesn't have more action, and that maybe there could be more explanation on the snipper. I'm not going to reveal too much, but there's a moment in which Sydney says something like "Ok, she was wrong, now she's done right, but still we have to turn her". Was she laid to? That's why she was doing the wrong thing and then decides to do the right one? Or did the Danger Gils "convince" her to do what she ends doing? That didn't seem clear to me.

I loved the original Danger Girl and have enjoyed the subsequent one-shots that have come out (collected in Danger Girl: Odd Jobs (Danger Girl)), and when a new volume comes out, I just have to check it out. Body Shots does not disappoint by any means, standing up to the usual Danger Girl Standard of naughty spy fun.

Here's the plot: Abbey and Sidney are enjoying a little R&R (and looking to buy a house in Australia) when a new international crisis hits: someone apparently has control of the "Master Key," a device that can detonate any nuclear device on earth on a whim, and is setting off bombs in order to hold the world ransom. As the Danger Girl team tries to track down the device, they find themselves at odds against a beautiful lady sniper and some heavies in the U.S. Army. Can the girls save the earth in time? I think we all know the answer.

Now, of course, we don't read the Danger Girl comics because they're fantastically deep comics - they're fun to read and have great art, and that's their appeal. Though J. Scott Campbell now seems to have totally severed his connection to Danger Girl (he contributes no art, plot or story to this volume, but is still noted as one of the creators, with writer Andy Hartnell), Nick Bradshaw's pencils (in a neo-pseudo-manga style) do a fantastic job of capturing the original energy and verve of Campbell's vision, albeit in a sort of cartoony style. There are times when the dialogue verges on the cringe-worthy (especially when Hartnell tries to do some "A Few Good Men"-type moments), but overall the plot will hold your interest, and the art will wow you. A great addition to the Danger Girl series. Pick it up - you won't be sorry.

After reading and enjoying the tongue in cheek humor of the original series maybe my hopes were too high for this one. I thought it was a little forced, the jokes a little too cliched, and the artwork isn't among my favorites. It's not a horrible book, just not what I was hoping to get.

This collection can be read .. or looked at, again and again. It's funny and has a "plot". Good drawings! A fine break from super heros . Not for young kids...Just old kids.

I think the two things that made the original Danger Girl run so much fun were the unapologetic campiness and the exaggerated artwork. Still, those need to be applied judiciously, and tied together with an engaging plot, and "Back in Black" didn't do that. The artwork just doesn't do it for me. The body work seems to be going more for the Abercrombie and Fitch work than anything. The high fashion influence on Johnny, Zero and Deuce is a little bit irritating -- they were better when they were ripped, and had chests. The chest thing goes for the girls too. What we get a lot of are gazes averted to the top corners of the pages and really big mouths. If you took Lar Desouza's art and cleaned it up, but left it every bit as obnoxious as ever, you'd have a pretty close approximation to the artwork in "Back in Black".

In short: The story isn't as fun, the art isn't as fun, the jokes aren't as funny, but it's still Danger Girl (and I'll take it).

I have been playing off and on for a year with no tangable results.

I read this book and followed it exactly and in the 1st 4 days I went from $1000 to $4280 (Play Money). In 17 single table(9 seats) games I have 2 Firsts 4 Seconds and 6 Thirds. I play very tight until there are only 6 players which allows me to follow the strategy that is discussed in this book.

I have been in the money 70% of the time.

This book works......

Why is a noted gambling expert buying a book for beginners? Anyway, I thought the book was great for beginners.It gives you the basics and some good common sense logic. Also,has some clever ideas for managing your money when you start winning. I'm not a high limit player so this book was good for getting started. I made 50 bucks the day I read it. So I guess it paid for itself.

If you just getting started this book will be very helpful. Very basic. Has some good points/insights related to on-line play.

I am new to the game and found "Maximum Dave" to be insightful and funny. His approach to the game made me confortable and confident. I would recommend this book to all new players even GIRLS!!!!!!! My computer is in my bedroom and he taught me things that even my husband could not.

I found this book to be a waste of time and money. If you have ANY OTHER book on Holdem, everything here will be repetition. My personal thoughts were that this was a waste of time and money, but perhaps I am too harsh. If you are giving someone their very first book, and they are a beginner, well, perhaps this is the book. Otherwise, not. But this is just basic stuff. Very basic stuff.

First, the negative review is pure B.S.

Dr. Bradshaw is not polemical and goes right to the primary texts (and I believe he does so in the original languages). Hence, his supposed "oversight" of the best western scholarship is nonsense, as Dr. Bradshaw's work IS the best western, secondary writing on his topic. No need to bow to the clouded and prejudiced views of those who have gone before.

Moving on:

Dr. Bradshaw's painstakingly documented and detailed demonstration and explication of the fundamental difference between the views about God held by the Christian East and West (since the ascendency of Augustinian theology) is a must read for all serious 'theologians,' Eastern and Western, Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox alike.

The first crucial point that Bradshaw argues, and which I believe he has demonstrated, is that Eastern Christianity used the language of the ancient Greek philosphy to go beyond the concepts and content of that philosophy to explain the new information about God offered by Christian revelation. More importantly, Bradshaw precisely demonstrates how Eastern Christianity employed Greek philosophical words and embued them with extended or new meaning to explain that God is personal and beyond conceptualization and, furthermore, that mankind can really participate in divine life without pantheistic absorption. Indeed, the notion that God as personal, not an idea, set of ideas, or an impersonal force of somekind -- and more, that man can partificate in divine life without pantheistic absorption -- was entirely alien to pre-Christian Hellenic thinking.

The second crucial point that Bradshaw argues, and I believe that he demonstrates, is that Augustinian theology not only used certain terminology of ancient Greek philosophy but also conflated the God of Christian revelation with certain concepts from the content of philosphy, thereby trapping God into a conceptual box, so to speak. Specifically, by limiting God to "being itself" in agreement with neoPlatonic philosophy (an apparently self-evident human logic) but contrary to the often mysterious traditions of authentic, apostolic Christian revelation, the Christian West developed an inauthentic systematic theology (both in neoPlatonic Augustianism and Aristolelian Thomism), which was based on a conceptual idol, not the unlimited God of revelation, and worse yet, an idol whose 'life' no man could ever participate in or share -- a God of intellectual contemplation of estatic beholding (an neat idea?; a beautiful picture?) but nothing more.

Finally, Bradshaw invites further scholarship and hard thinking about the possibility that western theology (or perhaps more appropriately western intellectual idolatry) created the fertile ground for the Enlightenment and all the disaster it birthed: the genocidal Twentieth Century. Of course, the fact that the Christian East experienced no Enlightenment and no Reformation is not proof that the idiocyncracies of western theology caused those events, but it does raise the question. And Bradshaw pinpoints the dubious aspects of western theology that best support the view that post-schism western Christianity has planted the seeds of its own destruction and perhaps of the world.

This is a very important and timely book. I found it very exciting and its implications far reaching.

In very broad terms, the book deals with the articulation and the implications of the actual historical development of the relationship between Christian faith (theology and spiritual life) and philosophy (or reason in general). The author points out the "important and urgent task" faced by historians of philosophy - to answer questions like: When and how the division between faith and reason occur? What was the turn in history that triggered such a division and was it inevitable? The specific approach that David Bradshaw undertakes is to consider the above questions in the light of the split between the Greek-speaking East and the Latin-speaking West. How did it happen that the division of faith and reason is a strictly Western phenomenon and did not practically happen in the Christian East? Bradshaw's motivation is expressed very clearly: "if we are to understand the long story of western philosophy properly, then we must take into account of the eastern alternative."

How does Bradshaw approach his comparative study? First, he focuses on the formation of the two traditions up to the point in history where each of them had achieved a relatively definitive form - Thomas Aquinas in the West and Gregory Palamas in the East. Second, and here is what I found to be one of the most exciting parts, he chooses energeia as a connecting thread in his comparison. Energeia is a Greek used for the first time by Aristotle (this determines the special place for him in the title of the book) and usually translated as activity, actuality, operation or energy. It is a term that has been fundamental in Eastern Christian theology since the first centuries up to present days. To be more precise, the teaching of the Greek Church Fathers on the relationship between man and God can be properly understood only if one knows the difference between "created" and "uncreated" and the difference between "essence" and "energy" in God (see for example John Romanides, An Outline of Orthodox Patristic Dogmatics, Orthodox Research Institute, Rollinsford, New Hampshire, 2004). The possibility and the ultimate destiny of human kind to participate in the uncreated energies of God, to be purified, illumined and deified in this present life, are a core teaching of the Eastern Christian tradition. The distinction between essence and energy, however, has long been recognized as one of the most important differences between Eastern and Western Christian thought. David Bradshaw shows precisely how energeia, after its "invention" by Aristotle and the evolution of its meaning within the context of Neoplatonism, developed into two branches: "energies" in the East and esse (the Latin infinitive of "to be) in the West. Bradshaw does not focus only on Christian tradition viewing earlier developments as a mere preamble to it. He thinks this would be a distortion of history. His generic (if I can call it that way) historical approach is in the heart of his argumentation. This is what makes Bradshaw's work academically sound and convincing.

Bradshaw's analysis is impressive with its historicity, constructiveness, integrity, depth and far reaching implications. It underlines the continuous coherence of the Byzantine theology and its roots in apophaticism as an inherent epistemological refusal to limit the truth to its rational definition and ignore its experiential reality. Unsurprisingly, Thomas Aquinas' teaching is seen in the light of Augustine's legacy. Bradshaw, however, finds that Palamas, too, is best understood in the same way - as a reaction to Augustine's influence to Barlaam of Calabria. This approach to the understanding of Palamas' articulation of his teaching on the divine energies was previously indicated by John Romanides (see for example
http://www.romanity.org/htm/rom.15.en.notes_on_the_palamite_controversy.01.htm) and is now comprehensively developed by Bradshaw as another connecting thread in the comparison.

Bradshaw finds that the differences between the Eastern and the Western traditions can be summarized in single word: synergy. For the East the highest form of communion with the divine is not an intellectual act (as in Augustine) but sharing of life and activity. The emphasis was on the ongoing and active appropriation of those aspects of the divine life that are open to participation. In the West, synergy played remarkably little role. Bradshaw finds that the major reason for that is, before everything, linguistic. Most of the Greek works articulating the notion of synergy were not translated into Latin. In addition, Latin did not offer terms as suitable as energeia to situate the meaning of co-sharing and partaking within a broader metaphysical context. Augustine's legacy of God's simplicity was to dominant in the West to allow a distinction between God in what He is in himself (essence) and in what he is in his openness to creation (his uncreated energies) leading to "a sense of distance between God and creatures, a kind of spiritual dualism artificially separating human body and soul, and a kind of naturalism expressed through the assumption that there is a sphere of natural reason independent of revelation."

Bradshaw believes to "have treated the historical material impartially with the aim of arriving at a sympathetic understanding of both traditions within their own context" and I believe he has really done so. This, however, does not mean that he does not clearly express his own views which I would identify as "pro-Eastern." This makes me think of his work as a well articulated invitation for a constructive re-thinking of the history of Western Christianity in the light of its own origins from the times of the first centuries and of the first Ecumenical Councils when the Church was One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic. This rethinking seems to be critically important in the present modern times where globalization is part of everyday life. I find it also critically important within the context of the ongoing complex process of European integration.

Well, what then is so exciting about using energeia as a connecting thread in the comparison of the Christian East and West? I think that energy is a very abused term. It is used in many different contexts and, sometimes, with questionable meanings. Physicists, for example, tend to look at the meaning of energy in a mechanistic way - the capacity of a body or a system to perform work. Here is a paragraph from Richard Feynman (Six easy pieces, Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, Reading, Massachusetts, 1975): "There is a certain quantity, which we call energy, that does not change in the manifold changes which nature undergoes. ... [Yet] it is important to realize in physics today, we have no knowledge of what energy is." The concept of energy has some popularity in psychology, too. It was initiated by a Russian psychologist - V. M. Bekhterev - and his "Collective reflexology" published in 1921 and republished in 2001 (L.H. Strickland (Ed.), New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers). For Bekhterev human "reflexes" were manifestations of energy output following transformations of energy input and thus the reflexes of individuals and groups might become explainable in the same terms applying to energy in physical systems. The specific meaning of energy, however, is far from being strictly defined.

So, we can think that there is a well defined modern meaning of the term energy but, actually, there is not. I think that the book of David Bradshaw is an important first systematic contribution to the clarification of the metaphysical understanding of the term energy in general.

Stoyan Tanev, Physicist, Theology student
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Prof. Bradshaw has written a brilliant but readable book for serious thinkers. The subject itself is difficult, but Bradshaw does a masterful job of making it as plain as possible. The reader who perseveres will be rewarded with a clear and compelling contrast between two very different Gods: a Western God who can be rationally comprehended but only seen from some distance, in the Beatific Vision, and an Eastern God who is beyond comprehension but whose divine nature is not seen but shared, through participation in the divine energeia. Bradshaw clearly favors the latter, but the reader is left to judge for himself which view better fits the biblical testimony, in which we are called to be "joint heirs with Christ" (Rom. 8:17) and "partakers of the divine nature" (2 Peter 1:4). The book should be especially enlightening to Protestant and Evangelical readers, to whom the Orthodox teaching on "divine energy" sometimes seems bizarre. After they read this book, it will not seem so.

The book also provides a scholarly corrective to the ignorant notion that the coming of Christianity meant the end of reason and the "closing of the Western mind." The truth is exactly the opposite. As Bradshaw shows, the neoplatonist school of late pagan philosophy was edging its way toward Christianity and ultimately approximated the Christian understanding of God with its own trinities of "the One, Intellect, and Soul" and "Being, Life, and Intellect." What neoplatonism lacked was a sense of divine personhood and a compelling reason to believe its own speculation. Christianity satisfied such deficiencies with an incarnate Christ, a convincing historical narrative, a rich liturgical heritage, and a welcoming human community, in addition to a theology that in time far surpassed anything the philosophers were capable of. Far from being the end of philosophy, Christianity was its fulfillment.

The book should furthermore prompt readers to rethink the false dichotomy of philosophy and theology. As Bradshaw shows, the great Greek philosophical tradition of Plato and Aristotle was fundamentally theological. Take out the theology and the philosophy dies. The proof is in today's academy, where philosophy is taught as archaeology, a field of dead ideas of interest only to academics, leading students not to truth but to doubt and despair. No wonder that Christians themselves have taken to talking in terms of a Christian "worldview," when what they mean is what the ancients called philosophy. With this book and others like it, perhaps we can recover a better appreciation for the "Holy Wisdom" that enlightened the ancient world before darkness entirely overtakes our modern one.

There is indeed some impressive scholarship in this book, except where the author attempts to make sense of figures he has failed to study in depth, such as Aquinas, where the errors are numerous and elementary. Behind the project, of course, is an agenda, a familiar anti-Western polemic dressed up in good historical research and extremely clumsy philosophy.
I notice that the publishers quote David Burrell's review in Nova et Vetera--funny, since that review was anything but positive in its final conclusions regarding this book.
Bradshaw is a bad philosopher, but he gives his audience what they want. He will be praised extravagantly.

Probably the most important book written about the discovery of yourself through your family history. A real eye-opener on the social illness that is passed on from generation to generation in families. This book was used as a text in a college course, and was a great learning experience.

This book is terrible. Useless talk about"The inner child" and extremely poor writting mar this so-called self help book. Help yourself, don't read it

I discovered this book when it was first published . It was the only way may husband would get any "help" He has panic disorder and his family was not disfunctional in the way we think of it. no alcohol no physical abuse, But Oh the emotional abuse! The Bill of Rights in the back gave him the tools he needed to release himself from the tie that bound him to his very disfunctional family. Find it. Read it. It can change your life

I cant beleive this book isnt bein published anymore. it was a ground breaker for me. I came from a seriously dysfunctional and abusive "family"(the f-word to me). Before i read this book, i had no idea there was a logic or order to the chaos of an abusive household, I guess i was very naive. This book is the one that started me on my path to recovery from my past.

Charlie Bradshaw, a PI, likes a life without interference. His friend Victor does not. Charlie's desire for freedom arises from his twenty years on the police force. A divorced man, Charlie has a friend, Janey Burris. Charlie goes to the police stations to look up the files on an old case of his because a body has been found on the construction site for a new library.

The case had been closed as a missing persons case in the first instance. Reading his old notes, Charlie discerns that he had used a moral grid in working the case. He is tormented by something he calls the ambiguity of experience. Revisiting the old scenes, he is told by someone that shy people have a lot of anger. Investigating the case makes Charlie aware of his younger self. He questions his previous judgments and perceptions.

This book is thoughtful verging on the philosophical. It doesn't have that typical American brassiness. It resembles the novels and stories of Agatha Christie.

This one was a head-scratcher for me. I like Dobyns's writing a lot: The Church of Dead Girls was an amazing read, Boy in the Water a little less so, but still competently done. Dobyns has a special talent with atmosphere; he can paint a scene or the attitude of a character with just a few simple sentences, and the few shining moments of Saratoga Haunting are when Dobyns treats us to descriptions of aging hotels, the flavor of old town main streets, and forest lakes.

But 'Haunting had me stymied. It feels like it was written over a long weekend. The action and the internal monologues seem to repeat themselves, with only slight variations, sometimes three or four times. I understand the value of this kind of repetition, especially for the kinds of suspenseful build-ups that Dobyns is so good at. But some of these iterations seemed to lack any meaning. Charlie's self-recriminations over a dismal younger self got old after the third time; I wanted to say "we got it...move on, Charlie!" The dialog was also stilted at times and the minor ending (i.e., the caves and reward money) seemed to come out of the blue. The sub-plots coud be distracting at times.

A decent effort, but I plan to read the entire Saratoga series and hope to find Charlie in more cohesive shape than in this one. If you liked Haunting, however, by all means pick up The Church of Dead Girls...a better book by far.

This book is hilarious and wonderful! Why, oh why won't Dobyns be more prolific with this series?

Dobyns is amazing. Here he continues a mystery series with a fine novel that is better by far than some "literary" novels getting raves in THE NEW YORK TIMES. I don't understand why he is not better known.