Edward Books

No poet who has enjoyed such popularity as Cummings has been so largely ignored by the scholarly establishment. Professors scarcely mention his name, and many anthologies of 20th Century American verse simply choose not to include him, as though he were only a minor figure. In fact, there could be no statement more off the mark than one that dismisses this artist as a minor figure. If there is proof of this, Richard Kostelanetz has given it to us in this excellent compilation.

For anyone who is only vaguely familiar with E. E. Cummings, this book is a good place to begin to delve further into the mind, life, and work of a consummate artist and one-of-a-kind individual. To be truthful, the only knock against the book is that it doesn't give us enough of Cummings. But, to Kostelanetz' credit, we must acknowledge the wide and varied cross-section of work available to us here.

Here we find for the first time selections that would have been previously unavailable or largely unattainable for most readers. There is everything from poems to biography to theatre. Included are some of Cummings' letters, some of his criticisms, a ballet scenario, a film scenario, a bit from the non-lectures delivered when he was the Norton Professor at Harvard, an untitled novel, poems set to music, and much more. Hardly any aspect of Cummings' literary career goes untouched.

In addition, Kostelanetz includes small essays at the beginning of each section that are both cutting and insightful despite their brevity. In these essays, Kostelanetz comments on everything, from the fact that Cummings was an accomplished painter to the fact that Cummings was perhaps the most prolific sonnet writer of the past 100 years. Each little piece offered adds something to one's appreciation of the genius that is E. E. Cummings, even the miniscule note that betrays the convention of spelling the author's name with lower-case letters as something assigned to him by outside forces.

For those who are tired of the same old anthologies, tired of those books that won't take chances on publishing anything too far outside the mainstream, AnOther E. E. Cummings is a must have. This collection, by no means complete in itself, is nonetheless the last, necessary piece to anyone's Cummings puzzle. Indeed, no collection should be considered complete without it.

Makes you want to go out and pound steel.

Forrest wasn't happy to accept this "tallow-faced boy" at first, but Morton slowly won him over and participated in all of his campaigns.

We get a lot of observations as to Forrest's character -- including that, according to Morton, he believed one attacker superior to two defenders (this is alarming) and that he was "at times the most insubordinate of men" (13). (Greatest general of all time, eh? I can't quite feature that.)

We learn as well about the activities of Forrest's troops, and I found it interesting to observe how often his men charged entrenched opponents (cf. Morton's description of the Battle of Dover, p. 76; etc.). I would be interested to know what Forrest's casualty rates were, as compared to other cavalry commanders and as measured against what he achieved.

The death (possibly a murder) of Captain Freeman, Forrest's deadly brawl with Lieutenant Gould, Chickamauga and Brice's Crossroads all are covered, among other events. Though Morton quotes letters between Forrest and the Federal commander Washburn regarding the treatment of prisoners of war, there is little discussion of Fort Pillow and it is implied, as far as I can tell, that Morton and his artillery weren't there--which seems hard to believe, but that's what the text seems to suggest.

A detailed account, a vital source for the activities and personality of Forrest. Limited personal narrative, with Morton tending to refer to himself in the third person, but quite vivid nonetheless. For anyone wanting to understand the war in the West this would be indispensable.

Trollope writes not so much of his life (though he does touch upon the major events), as of his occupation. Although employed most of his adult life by the postal service, Trollope decided to engage in a second and parallel career as a writer. He is forthright about his motives: the satisfaction of writing, but also fame, financial reward, and social standing. Looking back on his career, Trollope is proud of a job well done. The oddity is that he seems quite as happy telling us about how much he sold each work for, and the financial dealings with his publishers, as he does about his books and characters. In fact, near the end of the book he gives a complete list of his novels and how much he managed to sell each one for (with very few exceptions, he preferred to sell the rights to a novel, rather than getting a percentage of sales). What emerges is a portrait of the novelist not as an artist so much as a dedicated, disciplined craftsman. He explicitly denigrates the value of genius and creativity in a novelist in favor of hard work and keeping to a schedule of writing.

The early sections of the book dealing with his childhood are fascinating. By all measures, Trollope had a bad childhood. His discussions of his father are full of pathos and sadness. What is especially shocking is the lack of credit he gives to his mother, who, in early middle age, realizing that her husband was a perpetual financial failure, decided to salvage the family's fortunes by becoming a novelist. He notes that while nursing several children dying from consumption, she wrote a huge succession of books, enabling the family to live a greatly improved mode of existence. Her achievement must strike an outside observer as an incredibly heroic undertaking. Trollope seems scarcely impressed.

Some of the more interesting parts of the book are his evaluation of the work of many of his contemporaries. History has not agreed completely with all of his assessments. For instance, he rates Thackery as the greatest novelist of his generation, and HENRY ESMOND as the greatest novel in the language. HENRY ESMOND is still somewhat read, but it hardly receives the kind of regard that Trollope heaped on it, and it is certainly not as highly regarded as VANITY FAIR. Trollope's remarks on George Eliot are, however, far closer to general opinion. His remarks concerning Dickens, are, however, bizarre. It is obvious that Trollope really dislikes him, even while grudgingly offering some compliments. Quite perceptively, Trollope remarks that Dickens's famous characters are not lifelike or human (anticipating E. M. Forster's assessment that Dickens's characters are "flat" rather than "round" like those of Tolstoy or Austen) and that Dickens's famous pathos is artificial and inhuman (anticipating Oscar Wilde's wonderful witticism that "It would take a man with a heart of stone to cry at the death of Little Nell"). Even the most avid fan of Dickens would admit that his characters, while enormously vivid and well drawn, are nonetheless a bit cartoonish, and that much of the pathos is a tad over the top. But Trollope goes on to attack Dickens's prose: "Of Dickens's style it is impossible to speak in praise. It is jerky, ungrammatical, and created by himself in defiance of rules . . . . To readers who have taught themselves to regard language, it must therefore be unpleasant." If one had not read Dickens, after reading Trollope on Dickens, one would wonder why anyone bothered to read him at all. One wonders if some of Trollope's problems with Dickens was professional jealousy. For whatever reason, he clearly believes that Dickens receives far more than his due.

Favorite moment: Trollope recounts being in a club working on the novel that turned into THE LAST CHRONICLE OF BARSET, when he overheard two clergymen discussing his novels, unaware that he was sitting near them. One of them complained of the continual reappearance of several characters in the Barsetshire series, in particular Mrs. Proudie. Trollope then introduces himself, apologizes for the reappearing Mrs. Proudie, and promises, "I will go home and kill her before the week is over." Which, he says, he proceeded to do.

The reading goes quickly even though repetitive sometimes. The information is up to date and is what your doctor should be telling you!

Note: This book isn't as much for people who want to be 100% healthy, as it targets a broud range of people. If your goal is to be 100% healthy, I'd recommend looking for literature on raw or living foods, juicing, and colon care.

I'm a huge fan of Charles Sheldon. I read this book by E.P. Roe and was taken aback by how great it was, it rivaled Mr Sheldon's works in every way. If you enjoy reading religious novels you'll love this one