Elliott Books

'The Prairie' is the third of Cooper's Leatherstocking tales in order of publication and the final in chronological order. It is also the last of the original three books ('The Pathfinder' and 'The Deerslayer' were written much later). Here Leatherstocking - now referred to as the Trapper - is in his late eighties and yet still possesses some of the vitality of a hardened wilderness man.

The book seamlessly segues from 'The Pioneers' even though ten years have elapsed. Disenchanted by the spread of civilization, the Trapper crosses the Mississippi to escape its influence. At the start, Cooper's theme about the destruction of the American wilderness is woven into the narrative.

Unfortunately, the tight plotting Cooper displayed in 'The Last of the Mohicans' - the book he wrote before this one - is largely missing in 'The Prairie.' The plot takes a good 150-200 pages to get moving, and then it has some long lulls in between some rather interesting scenes.

In general, the book is pretty much what you would expect from Cooper - though he demonstrates in these five books that he is nothing if not inconsistent. The supporting characters in this book are rather more thinly drawn than even his usual work, so there's not a lot of empathy for the reader. For much of the book, I found myself reading just to find out the final fate of Natty Bumppo.

"The Prairie" piles a far-fetched mystery atop an implausible plotline, but there's something endearing about its sheer disregard for authenticity. The ultimate success of this installment of Cooper's Leatherstocking series is not in its realism--which is in short supply here--but in its comedy (often calculated but sometimes unintentional) and its social commentary.

Natty Bumppo appears again simply as "the trapper"; it's near the end of his life, and he has escaped his former residence in the Hudson Valley for the peace of the empty prairie. His tranquility is shattered by the arrival of an outlaw family of squatters, pursued by a young man--a bee hunter, no less--inexplicably and secretly following them. In quick order, the mysteries collect: a strange and beautiful young woman emerges at the edge of the family's outpost, a member of the family is murdered, and the stalker's interest in the family is not entirely clear.

There's an additional hanger-on, Obed Batt, M.D., whose character, it must be said, straddles the wrong side of the thin line between humor and silliness, between clever and cliche. Meant as a satirical portrait (think "absent-minded professor"), Batt is a "man of science" who is a bit of a bumbling fool and who, in an ongoing gag, mistakes his own beloved donkey for a wild and hitherto undiscovered beast. He intrudes the novel much like David Gamut, the equally exasperating psalmist in "The Last of the Mohicans."

Underneath the sarcasm and the satire and the silliness is Cooper's entire catalog of romantic idealism--the themes and lessons found in Cooper's other works. Natty is still the pioneering and rugged individualist escaping the encroachments of civilization; many of Natty's soliloquized sermons are conservationist pleas for the wise use of America's natural resources; and the Indians Copper idealized in the Northeast have been transplanted to the West. (The author's knowledge of the Great Plains was based on second-hand accounts and redrawn in the fields of his imagination.)

In spite of its fragile plot, facile characters, and (ultimately) futile homilies, "The Prairie" is rarely boring. But be warned: when the secrets are revealed, nine out of ten readers will react with a hearty "Oh, please!" (The tenth will have given up caring). But Cooper ultimately compensates the patient reader with one of the most poignant denouements in American literature.

James Fenimore Cooper's 1827 novel "The Prairie" is an epic adventure featuring two major plots, twelve major characters, and a cast of thousands. Set in the Great Plains shortly after the Louisiana Purchase (the Lewis and Clark expedition is mentioned en passant), "The Prairie" sets two Indian tribes, the Sioux and the Pawnee, against each other as well as two disparate groups of white travelers. Even though Cooper had reservations regarding Sir Walter Scott that writer's influence on Cooper cannot be doubted. (One of the characters in "The Prairie" is named Le Balafré, as is a character in Scott's "Quentin Durward", published in 1823.) On the other hand, Cooper's style foreshadowed Charles Dickens in many passages, particularly the powerful depiction of frontier justice in Chapter Thirty-two. The central section of the novel, with its siege of Ishmael Bush's encampment and the portrait of Bush's Amazonian wife Esther, seems to have affected Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls". There are two young heroines, one swoony and the other spunky; but there are several heroes, including Duncan Uncas Middleton, a descendant of characters from "The Last of the Mohicans", and Hard Heart, a Pawnee partisan. (Partisan is an obscure synonym for chief which Cooper uses throughout the book.) Then there is Cooper's most famous character Natty Bumppo, who had already appeared in "The Pioneers" in 1823 and "The Last of the Mohicans" in 1826. He was to figure twice more in the 1840's as a young man, but "The Prairie" describes his final days as a graybeard. The odd thing is he's never named -- he's simply called the Trapper. Evidently his Deerslayer days are over, though he's referred to as "venable venator" by the novel's comic relief character Obed Batt (or Dr Battius, as he pedantically prefers). One assumes that Natty had become such a popular character readers were not confused by his anonymity. At any rate, he carries the complicated narrative, partly because he communicates with both the whites and the Indians in their native languages. The narrative's flow is smooth and rapid, and "The Prairie" is a page-turner for a lazy afternoon or a long flight.

Third in the Leatherstocking Tales series, The Prairie finds Nathaniel Bumppo beyond the Mississippi as the encroachment of civilization pushes him further and further afield. There are five books to the Leatherstocking Tales. Cooper did not write them in chronological order. Accordingly, The Prairie relates the close of Bumppo's career among the Pawnee and Sioux of the Great Plains. As with The Pioneers, The Prairie starts slow and takes time to develop. Additional concessions must be made for a least one plot twist that tickles the limits of plausibility. It should be remembered, however, that the age and the romantic style of writing then in vogue permitted latitude today's novelists are not afforded. Be that as it may, once past this questionable plot development, it matters little for the book is that grand.

Sioux and Pawnee, contesting the plains, find Bumppo, a wagon train of shifty settlers, and a bee-hunting suitor caught between them. What follows is a historical novel which includes every ingredient required for a masterful yarn. Bumppo, in this case "the trapper", represents the ultimate antiestablishmentarian as he longs only for freedom and the space to enjoy it, despising the restrictions of polite society. It is a message that has not lost it's power. Indeed, James Fenimore Cooper, through the Leatherstocking Tales, exquisitely captures a period and place in a manner so evocative that the reader longs to range beside "the trapper" through thick and thin , through the length and breadth of the fledgling American frontier. Having read more than my share of historical fiction, The Leatherstocking Tales rate as one of the finest examples. The Prairie is no exception.

Fare thee well, Natty Bumppo.

I chose to read this series in chronological order and not the order in which they were written. This being the third to be written but last in order, I read this one last. I must say that I was surprised at how enjoyable a read it was seeing that the last two I read (The Pathfinder and The Pioneers) were pretty disappointing. This novel has excellent descriptions of the prairie setting and the characters involved without weighing the reader down with page upon page of needless descriptions or rhetoric. The story line was very well-conceived, plausable, and coherent; qualities which not many books can boast. Of course, this being the last book in the series, I was concerned about how the author would conclude the saga of Natty Bumpo. Not wanting to spoil anything, I must say that I was very impressed with the way Natty's character was handled. There is nothing worse than reading five or so books and having the author ruin them all by messing up the character at the end. No need to worry here. This novel pretty much has all the ingredients which make The Deerslayer and The Last of the Mohicans exceptional: indian warfare, revenge, some romance, the differences and similarities between Natty's and the American Indian's religious views and philosophy on life, and of course just some good ol' action. I would recommend reading this series in chronological order, but if you do have to skip one of them, The Pioneers can be that one and you would not really miss a beat.

Stasis is a REAL page-turner in the classic science fiction sense! I can't wait to see more from these authors!

The five star reviews must have been written by friends of the authors. It's the only possible explanation. Full of spelling and grammatical errors, it reads like a mediocre high school short story that never ends. The writing is clumsy and heavy handed, the characterization is preposterous. It is, however, useful for other writers as a compendium of what not to do. I normally refrain from such criticism, but I bought this book on the strength of the reviews, most of which, in hindsight, sound suspiciously like back page blurbs drafted up by the 'authors' themselves. If you've ever had unkind thoughts toward the major book selling chains for not being more supportive of self published novels, this book will give you some insight into why they may hesitate.

James Harris lost his faith when his wife died, so after being informed that he had terminal cancer, he sought a way to immortality and had his body frozen in liquid nitrogen. After death, he discovers there is life on the other side and opts to remain even when his body is revived. His vacant flesh becomes a mortality vehicle for a remorseless childlike entity wishing to experience humanity. James' decision leaves his grandson Brad and a makeshift band of unlikely heroes to exercise the dastardly spirit and its cohorts to save the Earth from total dissolution. One of the entities escapes the lasso leaving open the possibility for future adventures from these interesting characters. Well planned out and written! I highly recommend it!

This is not your average sci-fi offering. "Stasis" is an intriguing blend of near-future techno paranoia, and ancient spiritualism. In Kelly Steed's world, science is not necessarily the cure to all the world's problems, and the solutions can be found in the most unlikely places. The classic "what if?" scenario of technology gone awry, coupled with an unusual group of protagonists make "Stasis" a good read, indeed.

Alas, poor Rupert, disembowled for a sadistic's pleasure! James Harris is as fascinating and humorous as he is repulsive. An ancient being that makes a worthy adversary for a high-tech society. The detailed visual descriptions splayed across the literary canvas tantalized the senses and made me feel like I was reading a movie. Unlike some hard sci-fi, Stasis' science is written to be understandable to a general audience yet can be appreciated by professionals. I live close to an actual cryonics lab; Stasis has ensured that my nightmares will never be the same.

Humorous, devastating, and completely satisfying, 'Think of England' tells a story that bridges a generation gap in its characters and readers alike. It's obvious that Dark is most comfortable in writing the shorter form, for her book reads like 3 short stories. That is, until the subtle conclusion ties each section together brilliantly. As I closed the book, I realized that I had no questions. Every element of the story had been perfectly uncovered - each wound, each joke, each character. Unlike most novels I read, I had no doubts...that is a rare occasion, and I urge you to read this book.

What I liked about the beginning of the book , and early parts of the London section, were Jane's introspective nature and her need to rewrite what she thought was happening. Even when she is not writing poetry, she is shaping her view of the world through words, correcting herself, re-setting scenes. Dark does a wonderful job of showing this young creative mind. However, this introspection becomes a crutch. People don't really know Jane as she doesn't even reveal herself much to the reader.

I loved best how a small action begets a lifetime of regret and guilt. Jane does not feel sorry for herself per se, but it does feed her introspection and her self-doubt. She has moments of quiet strength and humor which seem suddenly squashed and absent when Clay comes into the story.

There are sections in the book where the focus veers away from Jane, and I agree with another reviewer when they say these are the weaker parts of the book.

I especially thought that the character of Clay West was a shallow one. Although the "plot" seemed to tread water during the Nigel-Colette-Jane section, I appreciated how their interaction challenged Jane and she seemed more "present" in their relationship. The Jane that loved Clay seemed just as vacuous as his character.

Emily is a potentially wonderful character but our scenes with her are few as the author rushes through these pages to get to the ending. The family reunion scene seemed awfully belated and thus contrived. It's crowded with voices of the other siblings who we don't really know or care about. There was good tension with Jane waiting to confront Via. But why add as a coda the letter in the end? And what about Colette? Didn't she serve as a great foil in the middle section?

There were good parts, but the throughline of the story was not a compelling one. We are not compelled to move from one section to the next, we just follow the character.

Alice Elliott Dark's first novel was certainly worth waiting for and a worthy follower of the book of short stories IN THE GLOAMING that received such critical acclaim a few years ago. Jane, a youngster when her beloved father has an accident and is killed, grows up believing she is responsible for his death. This misconception follows her into adulthood and colors her entire life and is what much of the novel is about.

Ms. Dark is very good with dialogue and verbal fencing. When the uoung man from England Nigel tells her he is gay and asks if she's bothered with learning that, the conversation goes like this:

"'Of Course not. My uncle is gay,' she offered, and immediately regretted it. 'I'm sorry.That was stupid.'
'Quite all right. My sister's a girl, if that makes you feel any better.'"

Dark delves into the complexity and difficulty of family relationships that sound all too familiar to many of us. Once again she writes about lost opportunities and living with the consequences.

Oh, the title for this novel comes from wedding-night advice for Victorian brides: "Just close your eyes and think of England."

Ms. Dark sends us on a literary journey that leaves us breathless, thanks to gasps of recognition, sadness, hope, and delight. It's amazing how she can summon up the voice of an 8-year-old girl, Jane, and allow us to see the world through her eyes.

We are then allowed to follow this old soul through her twenties and into her forties as she makes acquaintances, lovers, friends, decisions, and realizations that resonated with me and all of those to whom I've lent the book.

I laughed, I cried, I could dance to it. Honestly. It's a true coming of age story. And if you haven't gone through a few Kleenex before its ending...get out of my house and never darken my sheets again.

Alice Elliott Dark remembers '60s family life and brings it
back to life in the definitely worthwhile Think of England.
The phrase "think of England" was a favorite of the protagonist
Jane's grandmother's of an activity to do when things were tough.

Structurally and thematically, Think of England is VERY reminiscent of Ian McEwan's Atonement:

First part - detailed account of "the day that changed
everything" in a young girl's life, mostly from her point of view

Middle part - ramifications of the event years later by
the character who suffered the most because of this event

Last part - the girl grown up understanding what really happened to her family

While McEwan's work is mostly chronological, Dark jumps around
in the first part of the book which made the introductory material somewhat hard to follow. Dark's characters are a little
more vivid, particularly Jane, the protagonist, her uncle Francis, and Colette, Jane's friend when she grows up
and goes to live in England for a time.

If you enjoy reading about the migration from childhood to adulthood, and how life looks different from different vantage
points, I recommend this book.

If the picture's the thing for you, then you owe it to yourself to get this book.

I really like Elliott Erwitt's photos, and his sense of humour. All my favourite Erwitt photos are included in this book, plus a whole bunch more enjoyable images. The photos are well laid out and the printing quality is very good. The only minor complaint I have is that a small number of photos are spread across two pages, and because the book is so damn thick, it's difficult to open the book fully and view these images properly.

Elliott Erwitt is among my favorite photographers, and it's really nice to have so many of his images, familiar and less-so, in one handy volume. But this book is not well designed. I'm at a loss how other reviewers could say that it is.

The book's format is distinctly vertical, and yet maybe half of its images are horizontal. For the vertical images, this book is great. But for the horizontal images, this book is a disaster: they are shrunk to fit the page width, and because they then take up less than half the book's page height, they are either stacked one on top of the other, to great distraction, or they are presented alone, at the top of the page, with an ocean of blank paper sitting below them.

Another reviewer has noted the poor performance of the book's spine to accommodate those occasional "full-size" horizontal images that split across the gutter. This is the bane of photo books. Publishers, please stop. Publish images flat, one per page, un-crowded, un-distracted. Given that Erwitt seems to not favor horizontal nor vertical, a square page design is called for.

At the top of this review, I noted how nice it was to have so many of Erwitt's images in one book. Yes, but let me also note that there are, in this rare case, too many. There is a lot of redundancy of similar images, with the second- and third-best of various sets displayed with equal weight as the obvious superior image. It pains me to say that, because usually I am complaining about the stingy number of images we're allowed to see.

And the text? Forget about it. Just drivel. Why are photo books so poorly written?

Nevertheless, all said and complaints duly lodged, I truly love Erwitt's view of the world. And it isn't just that his pictures are funny. Like any good verbal comedian, his stuff works so well because his craft is so expertly honed. His compositions are very tight, his lines are very straight, his timing is impeccable. For the price of this book, in terms of value, it deserves more than three stars. (And Erwitt, himself, gets an automatic five.) But some balance needs to be given to offset the grade inflation that I think is going on with the other fans of Erwitt, tossing around stars.

Buy it, enjoy it, but don't confuse five-star photography with a five-star book.

Elliott Erwitt's photographic style proves that elegance entails a simple purity of purpose. Once you open his latest book, you are drawn into a world that seems familiar, but with a twist. Erwitt sees what we all see, but captures a moment or a prespective that transforms the ordinary or odd into high art.

Una edición impresinante: mas de 500 fotos en calidad FOTO! parecen reales... toda la obra de uno de los mejores fotógrafos del siglo...

Finally someone has addressed the subject in depth of how and why there will probably always be religiosity. I could not help thinking that even my cat needs assign life to it's toys to practice hunting for survival. Perhaps this is all necessary for living beings to believe first and formost in another being - to eat, to mate with, to fight or if not,to worship.

There are among fairly academic books books that should be read widely and never quite get the audience that they deserve. This is among the foremost among those that I know; as far as are the merits of it academically, it is also a very strong book. Setting this aside, because of its thought-provoking nature, this book deserves a cult following....

Gutherie in it argues that people, for processes of biological advantage, have an innate tendancy to see 'people'-- faces in the clouds-- where they don't exist. I first read this book while studying religion at Columbia and was more impressed by it than any other I read for the particular class I read it for (excluding William James-- which is understandable....) It explains a lot. Its author is widely read and a persuasive writer, it has interesting pictures and really forces one to think about a lot of stuff. It really angered many of my more theologically minded classmates-- which for agnostics should be reason enough to read it....

As a book of 'general reading', this is still an interesting book that should be read. It's really smart and a fun read. I'd definately recommend (in either case) to buy this book. It will make you think, or it will change the way you think about religion (and life....)

How people percieve is really an avenue that needs much more exploration as far as it concerned the study or religion....

Guthrie, in this excellent book, offers a persuasive, if incomplete, explanation of why religious explanations are held to be true by so many if indeed they are not. His well-supported thesis is that the human mind's bulk of processing power evolved to process other human beings in our social environment and that this cognitive strategy of the social human animal has bled over into domains of reality that it isn't meant for, i.e. the domain of the natural sciences. A clear example for this would be the persistence of creationism in light of robust naturalistic theories of biological and cosmic evolution. People are predisposed to seek an anthropomorphic answer to things and when a normal human being obviously can't be the 'doer,' then a superhuman being is posited to have been the `creator.' It is easier to process information within a social context, even if that processing leads to a false conclusion.

Guthrie even sees the (admittedly very primitive) rudiments of religion in our closest cousins the chimpanzee. He cites evidence from Jane Goodall where chimps have been observed to become angry with rainstorms. He sees this as evidence for the rudiments of religion because the chimps must be injecting social intentionality into the mindless storm - something we `higher primates' have done with Zeus and `his' Lightening bolts to our contemporary biblicists who say hurricanes are the social intentionality of Yahweh. It is a primitive and false and yet pervasive way for human beings to conceptualize our environment.

Marshalling evidence of anthropomorphization from modern advertising, art, and literature, Guthrie ties it all together in his theory of religion. He sees that at its root, gods and religions are just the anthropomorphic perception lenses that we humans use to try and make sense of the world around us that doesn't share our minds, intentions, and emotions.

This is a book length explanation of a very simple idea.

People tend to anthropomorphise things around them because it is a useful strategy with survival value. Assuming that the things you come across are animate and purposeful is a safer mistake to make than the converse. We have evolved to see persons everywhere. With typical sloppiness, our brains use the "dealing with people" faculties to handle interactions with things that are not people at all.

Primitive man sees an animal footprint. Who made it? An elk. Why did it make it? What was it thinking? It was thirsty, and heading toward water. Identifying the personalities behind phenomena allows us to predict what will happen next. Sometimes, we can even to strike a bargain with another person, so controlling what happens next.

Stewart Gutherie's idea is that religion, all religion, at it's core is nothing other than applying this useful and important survival strategy to the world at large. Anthropomorphism is not an error that the religious sometimes fall into. It is the very essence of religious thought and feeling.

The problem, of course, is that it is all a very reasonable and safe mistake. There is no God. There is no conciousness behind nature. But we persist in seeing it anyway, just as we persist in seeing humanlike figures in inkblots. That's why religion is so pervasive. That's why it seems so natural. That's why "so many people" can be so wrong.

You may be interested in following the whole of the book, which is first, an explanation of why a new theory of religion is needed; second, an exposition of how pervasive anthropomorphism is; and finally linking the two.

For me, the theory was so obviously simple, right and powerful, fitting the facts so well, that the first and final chapters alone would have been enough for me. However, it's certainly a worthwhile addition to my growing personal library.

This is an excellent, scholarly summary of the concept of anthropomorphism in human experience. Anthropomorphism is the attribution of human characteristics to non-human things or events. It turns out that the human brain is designed to project human characteristics on the world around us (Hence, the title "Faces in the Clouds", a reference to the human propensity to see human faces everywhere in the world.)

Guthrie is at his best showing the reader exactly how pervasive our anthropomorphic projections are. He is careful to develop the philosophical underpinnings as well as to demonstrate with numerous examples the way that anthropomorhism pervades our perceptions. In examples drawn from art, literature and advertising, Guthrie shows the universality of the anthropomorphic model.

Guthrie is compelling when he shows that anthropomorphism is actually a "smart" Darwinian strategy as well. Guthrie quite rightly rejects some of the obvious explanations advanced to explain anthropomorphism in favor of an explanation that makes anthropomorphism a valuable diagnostic tool for our environment. Guthrie's contention (and it is probably correct) is that the perception of human activity is the most important of the various interpretions that we can impose on our environment. Because of its central importance, it makes sense to apply that model as broadly as possible. Where other authors have seen anthropomorphism as some sort of embarrassing error pattern, Guthrie makes it central to a successful coping strategy. Further, it is clear that anthropomorphism does not impose a substantial fitness penalty, even when applied inappropriately. Guthrie make a compelling case that anthropomorphism is the single most important cognitive interpretive model.

Strangely, the weakest part of this book is the portion that deals with the subject matter of the subtitle: "A New Theory of Religion." Having built a compelling case that anthropomorphism is THE fundamental cognitive strategy for humankind to understand and interpret its environment, Guthrie devotes a single strategy to the contention that this phenomenon explains religion as well. Guthrie may well be right, but it this is, as he claims, the central thesis of his book, it deserves a more detailed presentation.

Read this book for an eye opening discussion of the importance of anthropomorphism as a cognitive strategy, not for a "new theory of religion."

A good read, it skips along pretty quickly and you can't help but like the characters.

Okay, I'm going to just say it. This book needed a better editor. First off, the author's name is misspelled. This never bodes well. There are things that needed red lines drawn through them. That's an opinion. There are spelling errors. That's a fact. I'm a document editor, I know these things. But let's face it, scroll around, look at Elliott's review on his own book. He misspelled intelligence. I think he makes my point for me. In fact, his little review there sort of makes my point. It's funny, gritty, a little self-deprecating and a little self-aggrandizing, the trick is you can't tell which is which. That's Elliott (two t's) for ya.

It's been a few months since I read Jones' Inn. I read it in two days. Now, I know you're thinking, big damned deal, but let me tell you with my schedule, reading a newspaper article in two days is a big accomplishment. I don't have time for things. Elliott's the kind of thing you make time for.

You can read the excerpt so I won't bore you with a plot recap. If you like edgy novels that are never apologetic, read some Elliott. So it's not a masterful editing job, big deal. His writing is decisive and poetic. If you haven't read his novel A Life Without Consequences yet, read Jones Inn first. I read them in reverse, which was not the best way to do things.

It's easy to make sad things poignant and pitiful. It's hard to make them realistic yet beautiful. Elliott's got a way of taking your breath away; and while you're gasping for it, you don't know whether he's hit you in the stomach or sucked it straight out of your mouth with a kiss. That's some kind of magic, no matter how you spell it.

Good work Steve! just wait til ya write about growing up with the old gang. I'm glad to see things are looking up for ya.

This book was very moving. It made me smile and brought tears to my eyes. It grabbed me right from the start and by the end I was left feeling sentimental and inspired. The courage of the protagonist offers hope and puts life in perspective.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel. Mr. Elliott weaves a twisted yet hauntingly beautiful story. Despite the depravity of his characters, the reader finds his/herself envisioning them as beautiful as the narrator himself does, and loving them almost against his/her will. The narrator, Paul, reminds me of a sort of modern-day Holden Caulfield in his inability to believe he has any control over his future (or even his present). This is how Holden might be if he were strung out on junk in the 1990s.

I hope Mr. Elliott publishes more. Despite minor editing glitches, and the unrealistic fast pace of this book, I enjoyed it greatly, and believe he will only improve in time.

Stephen Elliott has written another intelligent, enjoyable book. He writes about unusual, sometimes uncomfortable, subjects with style and grace.

The real question in Stephen Elliott's short story collection My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up is not whether these tales are autobiographical or not (though Elliott admits that many are true, or mostly true, in his introduction), but whether Elliott, as narrator, consents to, and likes or does not like, the kinky acts described herein. In powerful, waste-no-words prose, Elliott takes readers on a guided tour through the underbelly of San Francisco and into his narrator's sex life, mental state, and troubled childhood. The city of the book's title plays a major role in these stories, but Elliott is clear to distinguish his version of BDSM from the "safe, sane and consensual" model best embodied by the City by the Bay's kinksters. This distinction is explicitly stated several times throughout My Girlfriend Comes... and the power dynamics behind his interest in kink are what make this an emotionally compelling, disturbing and vital read. Each tenet of "safe, sane and consensual" is revisited again and again until it's anyone's guess which side the stories fall on.

During the scenes Elliott describes, he often asks questions for which there is no answer. In the title story, his girlfriend comes to visit and duly beats him up, but it;s her words that leave the harshest blows. When she says "I'm not your mother reincarnate," his immediate reaction is: "And I'm thinking why would she say that? Who would say such a god-awful thing," then later, "I didn't check the box that says 24/7. I didn't sign up for this kind of lifestyle. I didn't want this. But I don't know what I want, I never have. And she's always been honest with me, and I've done nothing but lie to her. Then I'm crying more, and soon I can't stop crying." He pushes himself into unfamiliar situations, constantly questioning them and what he wants from these scenes. Through outthe book, it's clear that BDSM is both a physical act and a pathway to some emotional salve. He looks to strong, dominant women to steer him toward where he should go. In the opening story, "First Things First," set in Amsterdam, he writes, "She didn't ask what I liked, which was good because I had no idea what I liked or what I was into or what I wanted to do or wanted done to me." This theme reappears even as he gains knowledge about why he craves submission and what he prefers, much of which involves offering himself to women to take, test, and hurt him.

Elliott throws traditional erotica to the wind and complicates matters, mixing emotional pain and physical pleasure, and vice versa, until it's often unclear where one ends and the other begins. He doesn't seek to separate sex and kink from Real Life, so in the middle of a story about wearing a gas mask, he jumbles together his suffocation wth what's happening beyond their limited play space: "We don't know that her husband has been leaving messages on my phone. Her mother is OK. Her mother doesn't have cancer. It's just scar tissue. The phone is turned off. I can't breathe and I'm shaking my head, no no no no." The words rush at the page until finally she praises him with "Good boy," and for the narrator, "It's the only thing in the world worth hearing." It's these absolute statements of pure, raw need, the kind that we so often cover up but here Elliott thrusts forward, as if opening a Band-aid to reveal red, tender skin, an act he's compelled to do again and again, that make this slim volume a keeper. In the same story, he moves seamlessly from his lover, Eden, hitting him so hard that "[t]he animal I sound like doesn't exist yet" to being hit by his father, the two permanently entwined, one consensual, one not. It's this admissionthat there is no unraveling his abusive childhood from his chosen masochismthat is both startling, brave, and often uncomfortable (in the best way possible) to read.

In his introduction, Elliott writes of the political necessity for sharing our sexuality, especially of the BDSM variety, with the world: "It is in everyone's best interest for more people to be open about their sexual desires." While I happen to agree with him on that score, these interconnected stories lack the over-the-top blaring messages of propaganda, and offer a different motive: to make sense of, and simply declare, that he exists, that he is not succumbing to any forces other than his own will. Even as he writhes in pain, he points out that it's pain he wants, and will struggle and fight for.

Elliott's writing is straightforward and direct, but no less powerful for its simplicity. The themes repeated throughout the stories, of searching, connection, disappointment, desire, and love, echo strongly by the end. He doesn't apologize for the desires that drive his protagonist, even when they get him in over his head. Perhaps the political message here is that even if what we want and need sexually is not truly safe, sane or consensual, it's our right to pursue it, to pursue pain that may not necessarily bring clarity, pleasure, or wisdom, that may in fact simply invite more pain; in Elliott's world, that pain is a prism through which to see himself anew. These stories will likely make you flinch, recoil, and marvel not just as Elliott's ability to transform his past into an aggressively kinky present, but also his remarkably simple yet ruthlessly honest way of bringing sex onto the page, not as simple titillation or sensationalism, but as part and parcel of the drama, pain, and work of life itself. By pushing readers, and himself, into the darkest places he can go, he shines light on the often-hidden lives of submissive men and forces us to confront all the ugliness and beauty contained therein.

Stephen Elliot's My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up is a collection of ten highly autobiographical stories, mostly set in the S&M scene in San Francisco. Elliott writes in a compressed, minimalistic style that is simultaneously aggressive and inviting (not to mention erotic and thought-provoking), all the while weaving his stories into a loose narrative thread which moves from his earliest and most dangerously confused encounters through a decade of singles websites, dominating housewives, and relationships that often satisfy only temporarily if at all. The title story is one of the strongest in the collection, describing an afternoon spent with a girlfriend he met on an online dating service. As the girlfriend slaps him and blackens his eyes, she's forced to generate her anger by berating him over things that never happened, eventually saddening Elliot instead of turning him on:

"She was straddling me in her blue jeans when she said, "I'm not your father." She was still angry about something I had suggested, or that I had hurried her out of the bar and she hadn't finished her drink. It was all made up. A game. But I started to feel sad when she mentioned my father. I have such an awful relationship with my father. Aren't you supposed to forgive and forget stuff? I was thirteen when I left home. It's been seventeen years since he caught me and beat me and shaved my head and the state took custody and I became a ward of the court. We try to mend things but I get these letters from him and it's just too much. He thinks he's the victim. Like I have victimized him by making him out to be such a horrible father. But he was a horrible father and I spent a year, a full year, sleeping on rooftops and in hallways and eating out of garbage cans and all he remembers are the times I came home to shower, proof that I didn't have it so bad. I was only thirteen, then fourteen..."

Many of Elliott's stories revolve around this same basic relationship: a man and a woman who don't have sex (at least in the traditional sense) but instead reenact cycles of hurting and being hurt, or as Elliott puts it, "The idea of two people finding each other. A person who wants to be hurt and another who wants to hurt someone." At the same time, there is a progression throughout the book as he moves from the random dangers of his early, uninformed experiences through the highly ritualistic S&M scene found online and finally to his healthiest relationships, which are still different from social norms but also contains elements of love and happiness not found in his earlier experiences.

There's a great sadness to many of these stories, but there's also a sexy swagger and a hopeful soul that stylishly carries the reader through those darkest moments. Equal parts erotica, memoir, and fiction, My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up is easily one of the finest collections I've read this year.

I love this book. It traces part of the author's growth from an abusive childhood to a happier adulthood. He allows us to see how his painful upbringing was reflected in series of painful and unhappy periods of sexual experimentation. The earlier chapters can be depressing, but hang on, because there is a trajectory toward a better present. I love this book for its honesty and authenticity. The last chapter is especially beautiful because it rings with a truth I have also seen: that bdsm can be healing. It makes sense that some people find bdsm within themselves not as something that needs to be cured but as a means of coping with and possibly resolving old wounds. Some of those experiences may be inaccessible to recall. The "healing" is counterintuitive and cathartic. In this context, bdsm can extend beyond bedroom kinks and thrills into the territory of personal growth and redemption. Mr. Elliott paints a spare and elegant portrait of such a process taken from his own life. Highly recommended.

Yep, I'd heard a lot about Stephen Elliot's My Girlfriend Comes To The City And Beats Me Up, and virtually all of it was so glowingly positive I bought it without a second thought. So now I've read it, and what do I think?

Hmmm.

First off, great title! Truly great. Secondly, alas, it's also a bad book on which to hang that great title. In fact, although I know I'll take heat for saying this--boy oh boy I just know I will---this collection of pseudo-autobiographical short stories about the author's self-congratulatorily deviant sex life is barely readable. The stories here are unevenly laid out, way too egocentric, and they rapidly become tiring with their progression of one set of buttocks after another beaten in pursuit of erotic gratification. In fact I'll wager that if you were awestruck by these stories, then odds are you're probably under twenty-five and haven't been exposed to a lot of truly good writing in this particular field.

Page thirty-one: "She wanted to hit me across the back with a chain. But still, even as I'm missing her, and knowing that I will see her again, the question stays with me. The idea of two people finding each other. A person who wants to be hurt and another who wants to hurt someone. We've never had sex. We won't have sex. I've never seen her naked. I just don't understand where it comes from that someone could say such a thing."

Now imagine a couple hundred pages of this sort of prose and subject material and you'll see why I didn't think this short story collection was all it was hyped to be. I mean, come on, couldn't you write better than that? Couldn't most English majors you know?

Yeah, I know, it's rude to rip up on someone's memoir-esque prose but it's also annoyingly apparent to me that Elliot deliberately tried too hard to be shocking (don't try to tell me he didn't) and completely failed to be, and there's no excuse for the sort of intentional heavy-handedness he put out there. Also the author's much-expressed father issues bleed through so often they simply sound whiny. Honestly, just because a book deals with a subject outside the mainstream, stands to joyfully offend some uptight people, uses a lot of profanity, and has a slightly artsy, albeit pretentious, attempt at an edge, that doesn't necessarily mean it's any good.

Before anyone starts in with the "you didn't get it/you must be repressed" rebuttals, let me say I don't condemn any sexual viewpoint this side of child molestation, and judging by the wide ranging books I read, books on just about every conceivable subject, fiction non-fiction, you name it, I think I can humbly suggest I am open-minded enough to grasp diverging points of view. That said, I couldn't see anything redeeming here. It's a lot of anachronistic retro-Gen-X-style complaining of the "poor me, I am so misunderstood and life my is hard" stripe, with graphic, badly-penned S&M montages tossed in. And while on that subject, what makes Stephen Elliot truly think anyone wants to read second-by-second accounts of his (apparently thinly fictionalized) forays into bondage, discipline, abject physical humiliation, prostitution, and the repeated insertion of foreign objects into his body cavities? Like literary junk food, enough was soon enough.

There was no art here in this book, scant talent, and the whole mess read like middling first-year creative writing "I'm gonna try and shock you" fare. Save yourself a waste of time and money and go read something else. Odds are whatever it is, it's going to be better than this.

Sigh. Okay, I've laid it on thick, so I'm ready, let the negative comments flow...

What a great book. Forget about baseball players, this book gives credit to the blue collar hard working baseball fan that made this game so great. Forget about the shirt and tie crowd we see today. Back in 1977, the real fans were the steelworkers, truck drivers, stockyard workers and ditch diggers that not only made baseball a great game but made this city a great place to live. Hats off to Peter!

...your jaw will hit the floor upon opening this book, as mine did. Peter Elliott's photos capture the weathered, hard edged beauty that Comiskey Park and it's fans used to be. A photo book that focuses entirely on the old park and it's fans, this is a must have for any White Sox fan. 5 stars aren't enough to express how incredible this book is.

This book has nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with people and community and one unique little corner of the world as it looked 24 years ago. I enjoyed it and I wasn't there. Looking at it with someone who was is even more fun.

As a lifelong Sox fan it was a real treat to open this book and be swept back in time to old Comiskey Park. Looking at the pictures gave me a chance to appreciate and enjoy what I never had paid much attention to at the the time- other fans around me. The place was a dump and we all loved it anyway. With such great detail in the photos I felt right away like my godfather and I were watching one more game together. Thanks for the book Mr. Elliott, for me it's a memory album.

This book has been over-rated. Promoted as the "summer of 1977" this picture book is apparently the result of one or two afternoons (a Cleveland day game). Don't expect any pictures of baseball or the White Sox (there are 2-3), even though 1977 was one of the most exciting years in their history. While the pictures capture some of the parks' essence, they are very depressing. 90% are shots of forlorn fans that look like they are watching a last place team, when in fact this was a first place team. Old comisky had a lot of beauty that was missed here. I was there that summer and it didn't look like that.

Elliot Levine eloquently observes and captures various American experiences arising out of the Viet Nam war. The stories shared are spoken by survivors of the war and remaining loved ones. Their deeply personal voices illuminate a dark part of American history as their soulful journeys are revealed. While struggling to understand or make sense of their losses, and the country that got them there, the powerful voices of the survivors ultimately reach beyond any particular era. I highly recommend this book.

I have seen this play more than once and I am so glad that it is now available in book form. A very moving and haunting compilation of letters from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial online wall, this play is a must-have for anyone who loved & lost someone in this (or any) war. Survivors' memories are brought to life in their own words. Highly recommended!

I saw a live performance of THE REMEMBERED and found it to be a powerful, moving, and fitting tribute to, and remembrance of, the brave people who served in Vietnam. The show is particularly timely now.

I saw the play and was drawn in to the stories of the soldiers and the relatives and friends of our fallen soldiers. I have never heard the stories of the survivors left behind and their perspective on the war. It was amazing how many people are effected by the death of a soldier and the true devestation war has. It is amazing that I have never heard this perspective before.

As all the stories are real the play is very touching and honest with a lot of emotion. A great way to gain perspective on what is happening to the men and woman serving today and what their families must be feeling.

My wife and I saw a production of this play at Hofstra University in late 2007 and thought it was well done. The portrayal of the Vietnam Veterans as well as their family and friends was very moving. The play captures a lot of the emotions from that period and would be a good read for anyone interested in the effects a war has on all those involved. This play should be mandatory reading for high school students across the country, as too many students are unaware of our own history.

I've never read a move revealing book. It follows the lives of troubled teens and really captures a complete picture of how these problems manifest and the problems in our society that feed them. If you ever wondered about how teens fall through the cracks this is a must read. Each chapter tells a story about another teen, then examines it socially to support his ideas. As someone just out of his teens, I appreciated the accuracy of his observations.

After spending many years studying history and politics, I've come to the conclusion that a strong, stable, and relatively prosperous middle-class is the key to providing a strong, stable, and relatively prosperous society and its accompanying political organization. We will always have the very wealthy and we will always have the poor. The rich and the poor, representing the two extremes on a social spectrum, must, however, be the minorities in any stable society. The middle-class represents what we ordinarily refer to as the "mainstream." It seems obvious then that the future of a stable and prosperous society must always rest with the generation coming of age and that middle-class adults, particularly those who are involved in the raising of middle-class youth, should be nurturing these younger members, preparing them to take their place as responsible adults in the larger society, thereby guaranteeing the continued stability and prosperity of that society.

But, according to sociologist Elliott Currie, not all is kosher among middle-class youth in America and he provides an interesting investigation into the core causes of the epidemic of violence, drug abuse, and hopelessness among those American teenagers who are part of what is generally called "mainstream America," that is, these teenagers are true members of the middle-class and do not represent the impoverished young people of the poorer class who are generally thought to be responsible for most of the antisocial behavior in our society and who are considered to be "disadvantaged" and "alienated" from the larger society as a whole.

The title of Currie's book, "The Road to Whatever," I initially found to be very curious and I wasn't quite sure what the author really meant. It didn't take long to discover why he was using that particular title. Indeed, if the current crisis among middle-class adolescents is to be marked with a single word, the word "whatever" is about as good a word as one can use. "Whatever," in the sense which seems to be used in this book, is full of meaning and embodies an expression of carelessness, heedlessness, despair, thoughtlessness, riskiness, and so on, behaviors and attitudes which are not considered desirable attributes to be fostered in our young. Too many middle-class youths in America are not on the "Road to Maturity," or the "Road to Success," or the "Road to Prosperity." They are, well, on the road to "Whatever."

What, asks Currie, has brought this phenomenon about? What is going on in American culture that appears to be the catalyst for this circumstance? What are the root causes, if any? The author rejects the usual answers we hear all over the media from the pundits, partisans, and self-declared experts. Some say it is violence and sex on television that is responsible. Others claim it is the new "permissiveness" in our society which causes these young people to behave and feel as they do. Still others point to other causes and suggest solutions, some of which can easily be described as "Draconic." Currie discusses these issues, provides a critical analysis, and dismisses them.

There are a number of points the author makes which I found right on the mark and, although I may tend to interpret them in a slightly different way, he and I are basically in agreement (I think). Currie says that many of our middle-class youths are living in a "culture of exclusion." I suspect he is correct. The communities our young people are growing up in today are not as supportive of the young as those of the past. Today, even simple and unintended mistakes made by teenagers are not overlooked, but seem to generate a social outcry for an immediate solution, even to the point where the punishment for infractions far exceeds the consequences of the infraction itself. The recent "zero tolerance" policies, so beloved now by public schools, are an example of the unforgiving nature which has come to dominate interactions between "authority" figures and adolescents.

Another important issue raised by Currie is the widespread use of medications to control young people who don't meet societal or parental expectations, or are otherwise "out of control." For over twenty years, I have been trying to draw attention to this abuse of pharmacology, beginning with the overuse of the drug Ritalin back in the 1980s. I've also been critical of the tendency among so-called "mental health" professionals to "manufacture" diseases and "syndromes" where none can actually be objectively shown to exist, but it is easier to label and categorize, then "treat" and medicate, resulting, of course, in profits in somebody's pocket. I am in complete agreement with Currie, if I rightly understand his position, on the matters of behavioral medications and adolescent psychotherapy.

In general, Currie does an outstanding job of analyzing, dissecting, and criticizing contemporary middle-class society in America and the crisis which has resulted for teenagers growing up within the current cultural milieu. Much of the material he presents is anecdotal, actual interviews with middle-class adolescents involved in various forms and degrees of self-destructive behavior. These are not the kids from the other side of the tracks. These are not the disadvantaged or the impoverished. These are, however, the future of American society and culture. These are the kids who will determine what sort of communities this nation has in the years to come.

The concluding chapter of the book, entitled "Toward a Culture of Support," suggests some reforms which Currie thinks are important to implement in order that the present problem be resolved. Most of them are well thought out and reasonably supported. A few I would want to discuss with him further because they involve philosophical issues with which I might take issue. I can think of one or two suggestions for reform I might suggest, but he doesn't include. Be that as it may, I hope the book is widely read and discussed; the problem is out there and Professor Currie's work is an excellent place to begin the conversation.

There's a saying..."Life isn't always easy," and for many of today's youth it isn't. For many it never was.

In the book, "The Road to Whatever: Middle-Class Culture & the Crisis of Adolescence," acclaimed sociologist and Pulitzer Prize finalist Elliott Curie takes a serious, hard look at the suffering that middle-class teens are enduring. Using research studies, numerous interviews, and other facts gathered during his investigation, he disclaims the myth that troubled teens are solely driven down a path of destruction due to simplistic theories such as violence on television and improper discipline techniques by parents. Elliott explains why, in this age of "tough love" and overly strict punishments, adolescents are so lost, hopeless, and troubled, and why they feel as though no one cares enough about them to help solve their problems. The book contains ways in which we as a society, can help our middle-class teenagers -- to help prevent them from dangerous behaviors and to help those who are already traveling down a road that includes violence, drug addiction, suicide, and other negative behavior.

MyParenTime.com highly recommends this book to anyone who can make a difference in the life of a teenager (this includes: parents, teachers, counselors, school officials, psychiatrists, therapists, treatment centers, etc.). We must realize that troubled teens need people in society to actually take time to listen to them and to simply care about them. What they don't need are people who are going to give up on them when they are needed the most. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

A recipe for disaster. As Erma Bombeck once said, children need love the most when they deserve it the least. Elliott Currie writes incisively with intelligence and compassion, and brings a world of harsh realities, heedless schools and families with arbitrary punitiveness to light. He demonstrates how resilient young people can be. This book is necessary for parents, educators, and people who allocate funds for social services.
Other books along the same lines: Small Criminals Among Us, by Gad Czudner, and Resiliency for Educators, by Nan Henderson and Mike Milstein

I hesitate to examine these teens' stories in any but the most complimentary detail, simply because the damage suffered by the subjects is far beyond anything I experienced at that age, and the author is to be commended for letting their stories be heard and examining the factors that led to their having such a horrendous time. Still, I wish this book had:

Given a sharper definition of "middle class." There is a world of difference between "lower" and "upper," middle class, especially attitudes toward the mental health profession.

Held HMOs partially responsible for the mess the mental health care system is now in. True, there are assembly-line shrinks out there that do their patients little good. But many are handicapped by managed care that pressures them to prescribe drugs in lieu of long-term, in-depth therapy. Therapists must now justify and document their patient's every visit. As for over-diagnosing, every patient has to have a label in order to have their insurance kick in. It's not done to dehumanize the patient but to ensure that they'll get treatment. In a lot of cases, mental health workers have no choice.

Also, the family as an institution is not precisely the same as a school or a drug treatment facility. While parents should certainly be taken to task for neglect, and kicking their children out, I got the sense the author was applying these same standards to the other institutions the teen subjects felt had "betrayed" them. A principal who receives a death threat (to use an example) should certainly expel the student. One would hope the safety of the other students and staff would take priority. A principal is not betraying anyone by doing this, but I got the sense that the author was as equally disturbed by this act as he was by the parent who kicked her child out.

I was skeptical of some of the subjects' claims that they had managed to make through their youth without encountering a single supportive adult. Many were described as good students at some point, excelling at athletics or community service. It seems odd that they never once received positive reinforcement for these things. Surely there was a relative, teacher, coach, pastor, etc. at one point, who encouraged them, however briefly.

One last thing. I wish the subjects had had a bit more insight into why they started their self-destructive behavior and why they stopped. Too often, they made it sound like they woke up one day and decided to kick the habit and go back to school. Someone reading this might be tempted to think their behavior was just a phase, did little damage (most subjects are now in college), and that other teens who are struggling (including their children) will wake up one day, too, and become law-abiding citizens. But these kinds of decisions are rarely made and succeeded at overnight with minimal adult help. More information is desperately needed.