Nicholson Books

I love all the books in the Bride series, and this was the best (although all are great). I've already re-read it and highly recommend it. Fun, funny, erotic and a harbinger of delights to come through the entire series. I love the Sherbrookes.

I originally read this book because it was written by a very prolific and popular author, and I've been trying to find some new reading material. I bought the "Bride" trilogy used, all at once, so I guess I felt obligated to read it. I really should have stopped halfway through this one and left it at that. I regret the time and energy spent on these. I think I can spare everyone the synopsis, as it's been covered, but I had to throw my opinion into the ring after seeing how many stars this got!

First, I have no idea why this would be considered a "romance". There's very little of anything remotely resembling romance in this book. Douglas, who I will admit has reason to be angry - at least at first - is, at best, verbally abusive. He talks to Alex in a despicable manner. She, of course, is convinced that she LOOOOOOOVES him (even though she hadn't seen him in 3 years and she was only 15 when they last met). There's no indication of WHY she would love him, just that she does. When she tries to "seduce" him, he treats her like trash, and he's repeatedly threatening to beat her. But we're supposed to think that's okay, because he really wouldn't do it? Uh, no.

Secondly, his mother treats her horribly, and he never says a word or stands up for her, even when he decides he loves her, too. He is the head of the family, controls the money and the estate, threatens to move his mother to the dowager house, but still just lets her run ragged over an 18 year old girl. Very manly.

Thirdly... Well, the sex. Sheesh. It's not sensual, it's not romantic, it's nearly violent, and it involves crying, at least the first time. I can only guess that this author lost her virginity in an exceptionally painful and unpleasant way, because she certainly presents it as such. But at least he doesn't seem to rape her in this book, as the other characters do in the sequels.

Fourthly, the finale is implausible, if not downright impossible. The miscarriage would make sense except for Alex's reaction/recovery, not to mention Douglas' complete disregard for it. And the "punishment" at the end for the "real" villain in all of this is pretty darn tame, considering. All in all, it was unbelievable and poorly conceived.

Witty, humorous dialog and a great storyline. I loved the characters so much in this book that I went back online and got ALLL of the Sherbrooke stories... hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

This was the first time I bought a cd. It was pretty good. I have read the book a thousand times and the cd was just like reading it.

This is the first Coulter book I read, and I was hooked.
The action is fast. The characters keep you wanting to read more.
From this book I went on to read the stories of all the Sherbrooke men.

In this book, in vivid and virile prose, and many passages of stunning beauty, Richard Dawkins has created an illusion of certainty on one of the most critical issues of contemporary society: What does it mean to be a human being. The book is a collection of articles written over several years, with a literary grace and gift for imagery that is almost poetry.
The book is not a scientific treatise, but it waves the flag of science on every page. The science is sound, the science is breathtaking, for Richard Dawkins is a superb evolutionary biologist. But he speaks from the pulpit of Ethology, yet ventures into the domain of Anthropology.
Ethology studies animal behavior and yet he applies the principles and findings of Ethology to human beings, for one salient reason: he is convinced that human beings are nothing more than refined animals, and this collection of essays tries to illlustrate this from the findings of the fathers of Ethology: Niko Tinbergen and Konrad Lorenz.

"To speak of animal is one thing, to speak of the human animal is quite another" - This was not a principle accepted by Tinbergen, and in Tinbergen's latter years, Richard Dawkins was his pupil. Instead of comparing human behavior and animal behavior, they applied their findings in animal behavior to human beings and came up with scientific monstrosities in human psychology and behavior, creating a pseudo-science, not recognizing that human beings have free-will which determines most human behavior. Of course,Richard Dawkins denies free-will in human beings. All human behavior is determined by genes, DNA and the mechanisms of Natural Selection, Descent with Modification and the Survival of the Fittest. His evolutionary science is sound, his use of it is off the charts. His claim that everything is biology has become almost an obsession and it determines almost everything he writes. Beware the man of one idea.

He breaks the primary rule of reasoned thinking: Never Deny: Seldom Affirm: Always distinguish. His inability to distinguish puts him in the circus tent of P. T. Barnum, with his exotic hoaxes. "A Devil's Chaplain" is full of literary and scientific hoaxes, but to call it science, and to give it credence, is to be hoodwinked into believing things like the Cardiff Monster and Piltdown Man.

It is a tragedy that such a brilliant scientist like Richard Dawkins would use his science and his scientific gifts to build a platform for atheism. The brilliantly written essays of "A Devil's Chaplain" is a clever use of evolutionary science to support a personal agenda that has nothing to do with science. Sooner or later someone will recognize that the emperor has no clothes.

Father Clifford Stevens

This is a book to sit and read. You are going to reflect why the evolutionary understanding is great!!!

Some excellent essays. A touch too close to being a bit racist here and there, but perhaps that was inaccuracy of language. For the first time I think I actually understand something about evolution. His point about the 98% figure of genetic similarity with chimps was well made. He cited the fact that if you compare two books, there will be a lot of common letters and the figure would suggest similarity. But if you were to compare them sentence by sentence, they would probably share only a tiny fraction of commonality.

What I still don't understand about theorists on evolution is how they still discuss superiority or desirability for breeding in terms of strength, speed, size etc. After many hundreds of thousands of years during which human cooperation in agriculture, shared civilisation and eventually technological change has transformed the success rate of the species, why are qualities of cooperation, constancy or intellect now not also included in the factors that influence natural selection? Perhaps they are. Maybe I should read late Darwin.

The idea that atheists just go one God further was also a point well made. Many of us would admit to being atheists when it comes to Mithras, Zeus, Thor, etc etc. Of all the Gods, most people who claim not to be atheists probably only admit a belief in one and thus reject thousands of other. It's a bit like claiming to be a vegetarian on the grounds that you don't eat duck, but do eat all the rest of the animal world.

The point about cloning and identical twins was made a few too many times, I think, but then it was a collection of essays. It is a point, however, that the non-scientist would find it hard to relate to, since for someone from that starting position the twins are "natural" and the "clone" is not, despite the fact that genetically they represent identical concepts. The position would be really interesting, however, if the twins, or triplets or quads etc arose as a result of in vitro fertilisation and then implantation, and hence were not "natural".

Richard Dawkins is more eloquent in explaining biology and more forthright in disparaging its critics than anyone else writing in English today. However, the Greeks said even Homer nods, and I want to pursue a thread in this collection of reviews, prefaces and articles where I think Dawkins does not follow his own argument.

A recurrent proposition in these essays is that humans evolved in Africa (even Dawkins haters could be charmed by his essays on his return to Kenya) to meet African conditions. Surprisingly, he does not then inquire: How does it come about that a genetic armamentarium designed for camping on the plains of Africa produced a species capable of both inventing absurd religions and working out, through direct observation and indirect, abstract arguments, what stars are? What possible selective value could having a brain capable of either have to a caveman?

The answer, of course, is that the mental function evolved for reasons unrelated to stars or spooks but once evolved proved to have other capacities. In medicine, it is not uncommon for physicians to discover that a drug selected for one organ or syndrome has a completely unexpected, positive effect on some other organ or syndrome. (And, of course, it is even more common for it to have an unexpected, negative effect elsewhere.)

The significance of this is that it opens the door to a special status for humans. Dawkins does not want to concede this, claiming, for example, that if we were aware of the continuous genetic gradient between us and chimpanzees, we would not countenance any fundamental difference between us and, therefore, would not `sacrifice' chimps in medical experiments.

This is very strange proposition for a professional zoologist to be making. What are species for?

The genetic continuity is present, obviously, and, as Dawkins himself sometimes says, goes right back to an ur-organism. So, where does the quantitative difference become qualitative? If it is unthinkable to torture chimpanzees (or, to put it positively, as Dawkins does, if it should be thinkable to imagine interbreeding with them), why not object to eradicating mosquitoes that carry the malaria plasmodium that kills a half a million African babies each year (or maybe a million, who's counting?).

One barrier is to claim for humans a soul. This is nonsense. No one has ever seen such a thing. But another barrier is the capability of being moral actors, and everybody has observed that.

It is not obvious that moral action has selective advantages for inclusive fitness. Dawkins himself worries that having too many babies risks famine. Indiscriminate breeding, without worrying about moral consequences, is likely to leave more descendants, at least in the nearest subsequent generations, than discriminate, morally driven breeding -- or non-breeding, as the case may be.

Surely the evolution of a trait that confers voluntary selective unfitness on a species makes that species qualitatively different from all other species that cannot do it?

I expect this deviationism is a result of Dawkins's desire to see certain outcomes. Very natural it is, too, but it needs to be struggled against. Evolution up to us was non-deterministic. We should keep it that way.

Otherwise, this is a marvelous book.

It's pity about the title: the subtitle is slightly more informative. Dawkins defines the book himself in the first sentence of his introduction: " ... a personal selection from among all the articles, tirades and reflections, book reviews and forewords, tributes and eulogies that I have published (or in some cases not published) over 25 years." This would be a better title but it's a bit long.

If you want to learn more about the things Dawkins writes about, this book is not the best book to read. If you want to learn about genetics or evolution or the God Delusion, this is just an appetiser. But it's a good book to read if you want to get to know Dawkins and his way of thinking.

It's a well-chosen anthology of 32 of Dawkins' "minor works", grouped in seven sections, each with a common theme and an explanatory introduction. Dawkins is a prolific writer, and sometimes he must write in a hurry: you get the impression that in his "tirades" he is using a dictating machine while waving his arms about. But the same passion that makes him do this can, a few pages further on, emerge as language so carefully and economically crafted that it will make you cry or laugh out loud, as probably intended. And make you think, too.

You don't have to read this book in page order. It's a good book to dip into. The memo for Tony Blair is a gem; every politician should be given briefs like this and made to read them. The eulogies are both moving and funny. The book reviews will make you want the books. The last essay is a letter Dawkins wrote to his daughter: it's personal and revealing and rather sad; I suspect the letter wouldn't have worked; he doesn't say. (I'm older than Dawkins and have had more children.) Look for the other personal bits, the anecdotes scattered through these writings: for each anecdote, you get one insight.

This is a great book for an atheist to own and lend.

This is the first Baker novel I read, and I'm almost lost for a review. The book is an extremely fast read - I got through it in 2 days on my Kindle. The story draws you into Emmett's life, but I'm not so sure this is a good thing. Actually, the novel reminded me of my solo journey's through Europe where I drink wine, write down random thoughts in my journal, and then sum them up to my friends and family via email. They find them to be good reads and recommend I publish, but then enough say what the heck was that about? This is a unique read and recommended for that.

This is one of those books where nothing really happens, but that's not really a bad thing! It is the story of a man who get up every morning very early, while it's still dark, to light the fire with a box of matches.

The narrative takes us through the motions of each of these mornings, and the subsequent day, through his thoughts, and via a series of flashbacks, over some of the events of his life.

Will it keep you on the edge of your seat? No. Is it worth reading for sheer skill of the storytelling? I think so

I have read many of N.B.'s novels and essays, and he is a favorite author of mine. This novel, however, seems more like it was written by someone else in his writing style, rather than written by Baker himself. It lacks the substantive punch of his earlier works, lacks the beauty and emotion of a narrator relating to others in his world. The pet duck in the story seems more real, compelling, and finely drawn than the narrator's wife and children. (Maybe this is intentional?) In addition, whereas past Baker narrators have described the minutiae of their lives with freshness and wonder, this narrator gets pedantic. Does the reader really need to be told how a rear-window defroster works, or how to wash a dish? I think for Baker fans, this might be a disappointment. For a first-time Baker reader, however, it's a peaceful little book that might lead to his better ones.

Fictional story centered around Emmett, a 44-year old Father and medical textbook editor. He gets up before dawn each morning, lights a fire and shares his reflections on lighting the fire, making coffee and other trivial and mundane thoughts that are sprinkled with some deeper reflections on himself, his family and his life.

I was moved by a number of flashing-by passages relating to his children, his parents and his own ruminations on mortality:

"Last night I washed my son's hair, thinking what I always think: How many years will be left before I have no child young enough to wash his or her hair? Phoebe takes long showers now and of course washes her own hair. The loss is enough to make you lose your composure."

However, these passages were overwhelmed by a large number of thoughts such as this one:

"The mug of coffee rests on top of the ashcan, and it gets hot on the side that it near the fire. But it stays cool on the side that I sip from. This particular mug has a blue stripe around it and a small chip in the sipping area."

I found the story verbose and overwritten with detail (and maybe that was the point in getting us to appreciate the wonder of this world. Yet I found that I had to wade too hard and too long in the inconsequential and minutia to get to the too few nuggets of pure reflection. I found this novel challenging to finish and it wasn't for me.

Count me among the many fans of Nicholson Baker's body of work. Upon first cracking the pages of A Box of Matches I was quite pleased to discover that it is a return to the style of writing that made him famous - focusing in on the beauty of detailed minutiae within a story-arc comprised of a few reflective moments. This is the same stuff that made me love The Mezzanine and Room Temperature. In this case, our protagonist is a medical texts editor who details his early morning ritual of making a cup of coffee, starting a fire in his fireplace, and ruminating on his life. Like any piece of fiction by Baker, the descriptive details are dazzling and his use of metaphor and simile unparalleled among his peers. Those who, like me, appreciate a particularly inventive turn of phrase will find much to delight in this small book. Ultimately however, I found A Box of Matches not entirely satisfying. I think it has to do with the age of the narrator. In The Mezzanine and Room Temperature, both narrators were experiencing things both new and old, but mostly new and came at things with a palpable sense of wonderment. By contrast, the narrator in A Box of Matches seems a bit world-weary and lacks that same sense of wonderment. I think that takes away from the soul of the narrative that really shines through in the earlier two tomes. Detailed descriptions of things new and exciting make for a stirring read. Detailed descriptions of the old, the tried and true, come out a bit dull and perfunctory. It has always been a tightrope walk for Baker to make the mundane details of everyday life come alive exquisitely, and unfortunately with A Box of Matches it seems he's lost his balance.

This book is interesting just from the responses people have toward it. Just read the other reviews and you get a flavor. I have given this book to guys and they mostly enjoy it. However, the women who I have given it to have largely disliked it and even been offended. However, I did pass this book onto a woman who worked in a patient care profession in a hospital. She passed it along to her coworkers, all women, who read it and just loved it. I got my very worn copy back several months later.

This book must have literary merit that is beyond me, but I don't understand the reviews it has been getting.

The book is about what this guy does when he stops time. While most of his activities he does are sexual in nature, they come across as very bland.

I left this book thinking, here is a guy who has the power to stop time, and yet, I can not imagine a life that is more boring then his.

Without question, one of the most original and fascinating premises I've ever encountered. What would you do if you were able to stop time? Think about it. This is a relatively short book and extremely sexually charged. Not for the prudish or even the moderately straight laced.

The short summary of this book is that it's about a guy who can stop time. He uses his talent mainly to undress women without them knowing. He's a nice guy about it so nothing overly disagreeable happens to them, he pretty much just looks, no harm done (arguably).

Having read the reviews for this book, I was expecting a book that approached sexuality in a thoughtful way. I knew the book would involve a lot of sex, but was expecting it to be done in an insightful way. Indeed, the first quarter of the book was really well done, just what I was hoping for. The writing was beautifully done and there were thoughts every few pages that would make me stop and think for a minute. And the titillating plot kept things moving at a nice pace.

Unfortunately, after the first quarter or so the book turns into pornographic garbage. Eventually the main character decides to write erotica in order to leave it for the women he undresses. To me this seems like an excuse for the author to indulge himself and try to pass it off as literature. There's nothing thoughtful about these situations involving the UPS man, the lawn-boy, the lonely divorcee, and way too many dildos.

Overall the book was disappointing. Oh, it's entertaining. I even enjoyed much of it just for the shock value, but that's all it was. And it certainly isn't enough to consider this a "good book". It depends what you're looking for I suppose.

You can read a hundred reviews where people mention "sexual" and I still don't think they'll ever prepare you for how blatantly graphic this novel is. And it's not graphic in an erotic way, it's just detailed to the point of being absurd and somewhat hilarious. If you watch movies or HBO in this day and age, it's hard to consider things shocking, but this novel becomes pretty close. You keep thinking that the author can't possibly top himself, then 20 pages later you find the narrator doing or thinking something even more outlandish or absurd.

The plot is pretty simple: Arno is a guy with a special power. He can stop time. But, like Faustus, he doesn't use his power to achieve greatness. He doesn't do magnificent good or evil. He simply uses the power to freeze time and undress women. Sometimes he leaves them a gift or some self-penned erotica.

I don't know that I really liked this novel, but I enjoyed reading it and I would tell any person to give it a shot, even though they may end up offended by all the graphic content. Baker is an extremely gifted writer and has a firm grasp of language, but it's impossible to figure out if the character he's writing is the weirdo, or if Baker himself is the weirdo for dreaming him up.

The title was a turnoff...but I loved Julian Fellowes' screenplay Gosford Park and his acting in Monarch of the Glen so I bought the book on tape. It was great! I couldn't turn it off and ended up staying up until 3 AM, getting ready for a party and listening until the story ended. OH you won't be disappointed. Fellowes is a master. His writing style reminds me Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary...OK so Flaubert was a classical writer, but I believe Fellowes studied him. He gives much attention to detail and uses precise words. You will love this story!

I am glad I didn't pay full price for this book. I am also glad it was short so I didn't have to suffer through more than 265 pages.

The nameless first person narrative is not a literary device I enjoy. So that took away from the novel for me.

Also, it was just DULL. Plus, I saw the ending come from a mile away. I did not sympathize with Edith at all and - spoiler here---


I thought that for her to foist another man's child onto Charles was despicable. Charles was a sap and should have kicked her to the curb.

I borrowed the book on CD from the library first and liked it so much that I had to buy myself a copy. The book itself was very entertaining. It becomes even better when read by the terrifc Richard Morant. His accent, nuance, and fun attitude greatly enhences the joy in this book.

This book-on-CD version is a good driving aide (some content may not be suitable for young children to listen).

I believe Mr. Fellowes is pulling a "Somerset Maugham." In "The Razor's Edge" the author, Somerset Maugham..."inserts himself as a minor character, a writer who drifts in and out of the lives of the major players." He also narrates a good part of the action.

Since the narrator of "Snobs" is an actor who drifts in and out of the lives of the major players, I think it is pretty obvious that Mr. Fellowes has inserted himself into the story as a sly reference to Maugham, who also wrote about the difficulities of negociating the divide between the social classes.

Snobs is one of the best novels I've read in years. The heroine is torn between a hunky actor with no money or status, and a boring Earl that can give her the comfort and stability (not to mention the title) that she so desperately desires. A modern-day The House of Mirth (Dover Thrift Editions)

As I wait with baited breath for THEY HUNGER, I decided to check out Mr. Nicholson's earliest published work, at least to my knowledge. While, on paper, the plot didn't particularly grab me, the writer won me over with his writing. He gave me colorful yet realistic characters, a plot that kept me riveted from Page 1 until the very end and, most of all, vivid imagery that made me feel like I was *there*. While this wasn't as much of a nail-biter as The Farm or The Home, it was still an excellent read. I recommend it to anyone who likes to curl up with a chilling book on a cold, autumn night.

A good fast-paced, page-turner!!! I thoroughly enjoyed the premise, an adversary preacher of God. Right up my alley.

I've been a fan of Scott Nicholson's work for years and somehow missed this gem. I read this cover to cover yesterday and thought it was a real corker of a horror tale. He takes the paradigm of the bizarre religious cult which, admittedly, has been done to death and then breathes new life into it and makes the whole thing scary again. Bravo.

This might be Scott Nicholson's best book. Scary stuff happens at a little country church. The characters are great, especially Archer McFall. Like his other books, this one has a little bit of a romantic element and a little bit of the bizarre. As usual, Nicholson touches on spiritual issues here. Coming from the same mountains where he writes his books, I can say his settings are spot-on perfect.

I have seen Scott Nicholson's novels on the shelves for several years now, but never really considered reading them. However, due to some glowing reviews that I have read recently and the fact that his work is mostly set in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina (my hometown is in the NC foothills an hour or two away), I finally took notice and decided to read some of his work.

Firstly, after finishing The Red Church, I can say that I will read more of his work. Honestly, it exceeded my expectations. It did so possibly because my expectations weren't too high to begin with, being a new-to-me author. But, more likely it was because it was a well-written novel that kept my attention and made me look forward to returning to the story.

I did think that the story felt kind of rushed and could have stood another 100 pages to help with some of the plot - in particular, further developing the main antagonist, describing more of Archer's history in California (which could actually be developed as a prequel story), and expanding on the nature of Archer's influence over the 'old families' and why they were so seemingly easily drawn in to his fold.

That being said, I thought the book was entertaining, bringing some fresh ideas to a fairly standard plot (religious fanaticism). It had some pretty creepy moments that probably would have been even more effective had I been reading under more ideal conditions (I read it during my lunch hours at my desk under the electric-white glow of my office's fluorescent lighting). Additionally, the climax was very well-done, bringing the story to a fresh and interesting ending.

Reading Clark's BARBAROSSA, the lingering thought is never complain about your current situation. Weaving together the account from both the Russian and German sides, Clark draws the reader into an epic struggle that stood at the center of WWII and the Eastern front. Fair, very readable, historical accurate, and surpisingly swift for such a large volume, this is one of the "must" reads regarding WWII.

Prospective readers (& purchasers!) should be cautioned - Clark is quite forthright that his book does NOT cover the entire Russo-German conflict. It focuses on selected high points - the 1941 campaign, Stalingrad, etc. Particularly towards 1944-45, it becomes sketchy indeed.

It's well written, tho admittedly dated as others have noted; should be no one's first/only book on the Eastern Front, unless your interest is casual.

Barbarossa is an excellent introduction to the study of the most serious land war that the world has ever witnessed. What we have here is a wonderful narrative covering the major events of 1941 to 1945. It is not comprehensive and will not seriously appeal to World War II buffs. However, it remains an excellent primer and is a perfect work to recommend to neophytes. Actually, I reread it this weekend as a result of someone asking me for the name of a book that would be a good introduction to the war. I immediately thought of Barbarossa because it is all big picture and adds rich color to the personalities involved. It tells its story artfully and with panache. Clark's take on events was refreshing even if the information he was privy to in the sixties was limited and dated. A charming read in my opinion and time well spent.

Excellent history of the Eastern campaign. Could have focused in greater detail on inferior German intelligence regarding Russian ability to generate manpower despite severe losses initially,otherwise ok.

This is one of the best books on military history I have ever read. The author masterfully and consicely describe the Eastern front. There is not a single wasted sentence. Every detail and idea is choosen so that it illuminates. Given the breadth of task, this book, amazingly enough, manages to give the reader a crystal clear idea of every aspect from 1941 to 1945.

My only criticism is about the length of the book. It's too short!

Imagine describing 3 minutes of minutaie for an entire book. That's Mezzanine. One of my favorites though. A real brain screw.

It's really painful for me to read the fawning praise by other Amazon reviewers lionizing this book for its originality. The entire work could serve as a cliché for artistic pretentiousness at its worst, an exercise in trivial and transparently post-modern intellectual narcissism. Often when you hear an artist's work described as `experimental', it's code for `original but not very good.' This book effectively epitomizes the notion of experimentalism gone awry. Since there is basically no story, we are left with the writing - unremarkable at best - and the ideas, which basically catalogue frivolous lines of thought in which the narrator marvels at the breaking of his shoelaces two days apart, the evolution from milk delivery to cartons, the pleasures of refilling a stapler, and other nonsense. In effect, the author thought it would be clever to hit the reader over the head for 150 pages with life's absurdity. How could this be entertaining? I wondered too and made the mistake of finding out.

I read another reviewer, doubtless agitated by some reference to the book's vapidity, declare that people focus too much on the big questions, when it is really the minutiae that make the difference in our quality of life. I disagree. The reason people differentiate between minutiae and the important is precisely because one is far more relevant to our existence than the other. Maybe there is some nihilistic wisdom in cultivating a jubilant reaction to menial tasks and minor feats of engineering, giving exaggerated meaning and joy to people whose lives are otherwise ordinary and mediocre in every facet, but it's boring as hell to read about.

I enjoyed baker's previous books, VOX and Fermata, but found this book to be completely unreadable and boring.

I had to read Nichelson Baker for my critical thinking class in 1995 and was undeniably impressed with his book, outside of the classroom. Some have a knack, others have a gift, and Mr Bakers pen has been touched by the comedic hand of god settling him firmly in the later.
From the ergonomics of turn signal devices in japanese cars(they feel like human joints when you activate them) to the bathroom stall noises of public restrooms soundling like soup cans, Mr Baker has a keen zen like perception with the word that puts the reader in distinct focus by using very common settings. His awareness of the world around him and his acute attention to detail lend a lot of credibility to those of us who are fascinated with randomness, the placement of everything, physical objectivity in our personal experiences of the world. One of my favorite writers. The Fermata is very funny too.

There is very little to take away from this book. And that is praiseworthy.

If you feel you must find some kind of meaning, you could make a case that our life is lived in the minutiae that we ignore and not in the grand moments we choose to remember.

Follow a man on his common trip out of a building and across the square. Use this book to fill some idle minutes reading rather than on a sitcom.

I'm a little baffled by the review from "Chris" that says this book is tight. Tight?? In the first chapter alone, she repeats vital stats on the Andrew Doria in three separate spots. She meanders, she returns to her subject to state something she should have mentioned earlier and then digresses again. I hate to say it, but in one of her final works, she comes across very much like a dotty old lady rambling on and on. This book needed an editor badly.

I loved such works as The Guns of August and The March of Folly. (Haven't gotten to the Zimmermann Telegram yet but am looking forward to it.) But here I feel as though she was just pressured to write another book, so she merely took all sorts of info she'd unearthed over the years for more focused projects and poured it into this work. She's all over the place, and aside from the fact that after the U.S. was recognized as an independent nation the balance of power shifted throughout the world, and other monarchical leaders suddenly felt less secure (duh!), I couldn't find a theme, a purpose. Nonetheless, she takes hundreds of pages not to make it, whatever it was. The writing is bland and lacks much insight; instead Tuchman substitutes speculation backed up by nothing but her hunches apparently. Some sections are just laundry lists of facts and information--about the Dutch rise to power, about follies that led to the loss of the U.S. by Britain, about the "unimpeachable" character of George Washington. She's dealt with all of it better elsewhere. She discusses, for pages and pages, the vagaries of rigging and directing a square-rigger--to what point I can't imagine. (If I want to know about the fine points of sailing I'll read a book on sailing.) On a personal note, I also find her deification of Washington to be a big naive and one-sided. Not trying to trash him; he was great, but she has always been rather blind to his notable flaws, and that prevents her from writing a well-rounded depiction of events.

I wish I could recommend this one, but I can't. There are better histories of the Revolution, better bios of GW, better discussions of the balance of power among nations, better books by Barbara Tuchman. This one won't be going back onto my shelf...

A tour guide at Williamsburg recommended this as 'essential' reading and since I had enjoyed Tuchman's "A Distant Mirror" I was ready for a good book. Into the fourth page describing intricate and, to me, unimportant interrelationships of the Danish royal family I came to the conclusion that at some point in this book's production Tuchman just gave up. So I did to. The chunk I did read was very well researched but I don't need to read a summary of everything Tuchman read in researching this book. The choppy writing and, most importantly, lack of editing wore me out. Is a bad Tuchman worth reading? If you need to know every angle about the American Revolutuion the answer may be 'yes.' But, for me, the answer is 'no', not when there are so many other good books out there.

I've read all her published works and this is one of the best.

The United States declared independence in July, 1776, but it wasn't until the following November that anyone recognized the new country. That was when the Dutch governor of St. Eustatius, Johannes de Graaff, allowed soldiers to fire a celebratory cannonade for the incoming American vessel Andrew Doria.

It was the opening blast in gathering allies for the war against Great Britain. It's also the opening incident in Barbara Tuchman's "The First Salute", a historical analysis of the American Revolution and its larger place in the rise of Western Civilization. Sprawling, ill-focused, often annoying in the way it passes off punditry as scholarship, Tuchman's last book gets by thanks largely to her storytelling skills.

As other reviewers here note, it's hard picking out the thesis of Tuchman's book. The American Revolution doesn't even come into view here until the last half of the book, by which time we have spent more time dealing with the liberation of Holland and the career of British Admiral George Rodney, who effected the course of the Revolutionary War more by his absence than his presence.

Tuchman died within a year of this book's 1988 publication, and as she mentions "failing eyesight" in her acknowledgments, perhaps the celebrated history writer was struggling with health issues that clouded her once-piercing focus. Also, her previous two books, "Practicing History" and "The March Of Folly", were essay collections on the theme of the wrongs men do, and she seems in the same sermonizing mode here, likening the Revolution to the Vietnam War and dovetailing a discussion of ancient Chinese court practices into her account of blinkered British attitudes regarding the rest of the world.

Even good Brits had a bad habit of selling individualism short, Tuchman notes. "The painful task of thinking belongs to me," Rodney declared to his subordinates. "You need only obey orders implicitly without question."

It's only when you get to the second half of the book, a solid if not special recap of the last years of the American Revolution, and of the final campaign that led to the French and American victory at Yorktown, that the point of Tuchman's earlier discursions becomes (somewhat) clear. The creation of America had roots extending much farther than the borders of the original 13 Colonies, stretching under the Atlantic to the Dutch war against the Spanish tyrant Philip. Tuchman offers color and detail, and an engaging vibrancy, in explaining everything from the creativity of Dutch art to the successful defense of the Netherlands against the attacking Spaniards.

But Tuchman doesn't bring these points together, or give the kind of context to help you better appreciate them on an initial reading. Her chronology is all over the place, and she repeats herself several times, occasionally in the same chapter. "The First Salute" would have benefited from more polishing. Alas, it was time Tuchman did not have to give.

Tuchman's book is perhaps best as a decent complement to David McCullough's "1776" and David Hackett Fischer's Revolution histories, books that cover the early years of the war and that from an almost wholly American context. But as a stand-alone, it's not anything close to Tuchman's great books of the 1950s and 1960s.

Barbara Tuchman subtitles this well-written book as "A View of the American Revolution," which seems applicable enough. It is the view from the European side, at least at first. Although it seems to revolve around the issue of the Revolutionary War, the book spends a great deal of time on Eurocentric issues of the centuries building up to the main event; so much so that the Revolution almost seems subsumed by an entirely different, and not unpleasant, topic of Dutch independence from Catholic Spain. If Dutch civil government doesn't seem directly pertinent to the original idea, at least it is made to seem interesting.

Fortunately, the author is actually moving forward with such seeming digressions in her own arcane fashion. The book builds much along the lines of the Revolutionary War itself: a bit of glory to start with, then a slowdown with key triumphs to keep the reader involved, growing increasingly political, and then emerging from all the murk to a glorious, desperate triumph. The final chapter, giving us the battle of Yorktown, seems to leap from the page, and all of the seemingly disparate stokes of earlier chapters show just how each event came into place at precisely the right moment in precisely the right way for great men to launch a nation from. Somehow, Yorktown seems miraculous and innevitable at the same time. If a history book can be said to have a surprising and shattering ending, this book does it.

I learned more about British, French, Dutch, and even Russian involvement in the birth of the USA than I even knew existed. Although I brought some basic knowledge to the table, this book painted the arch of the war in a way I never completely understood, and I will never view the early history of my country in the same way. An erudite, entertaining, and educational novel.

Nicholson Baker's Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper is a fiery polemic dedicated to the task of protecting what he sees as one of our nation's most important resources: our libraries' massive stockpile of seldom-used older books and newspapers. As Baker explains, the extent of our paper reserves of old newspapers and rarely read old books is dwindling, often being chopped up and "preserved" (that is, their content, rather than their form, is preserved) in either microform or a digital format.

Baker's position is not a nuanced one; we need to save everything. To do this, libraries need to purchase warehouses, warehouses basically without end, so that not a Sun-Times or musty tome is thrown aside. The very first sentence in the summary on the back cover reads "The ostensible purpose of a library is to preserve the printed word" which shows Baker may have a basic confusion between the definition of a library and the definition of a repository, but never mind: the point is, Baker says, a library neglects its duties when it throws away disused materials.

Baker's writing style is eloquent and engaging; however, the entire book is dominated by a one-sided and hostile tone, along with his distinctly uncharitable characterization of his opponents.

I think the basic philosophical difficulty in Baker's position can be found in the chapter with the title "A Swifter Conflagration." Here, Baker fully reveals his philosophical position that all pieces of written media are valuable as individual objects. It is not merely enough that a rarely-used book's contents are preserved somewhere; merely disposing of a particular object is itself always a dereliction of duty.

Baker says:
"The truth is that all books are physical artifacts, without exception, just as all books are bowls of ideas [i.e. textual content]. They are things and utterances both. And libraries, [Baker's ally] believes, since they own, whether they like it or not, collections of physical artifacts, must aspire to the conditions of museums. All their books are treasures, in a sense..."

This is a rather overstated thesis. Some books and newspapers are valuable essentially for their own sake, rare books such as the Gutenberg Bibles, for example. However, it doesn't follow that every library must preserve every non-duplicate book or newspaper on its shelves, some of which, such as pulp novels, are almost certainly disposable once their shelf-life is over. What Baker calls for is for libraries to devote large portions of their physical holdings to items that, not virtually, but literally, do not circulate.

Clearly, there are some documents for which preserving the content, as opposed to the object, is enough. Sometimes a microform copy may be enough. But in any case, a non-print version of some kind will be enough for a large number of items, such as research and journal articles is certainly enough.

There are times in Double Fold when Baker seems to be using the sheer confidence of his vituperation to slip some questionable logic past the reader. At one point Baker complains that the Library of Congress threw out ten million dollars worth of public property. However, his criterion for this figure is replacement value. This is a somewhat meaningless, almost sneaky figure. A lot of otherwise worthless things might be rather pricey to replace. Being difficult to replace does not make something valuable in the first place.

This is not say there are not some worthwhile themes in Double Fold. Baker's complaints about microform are well taken, his call for a national repository even more so. While I may disagree that individual libraries are responsible for every physical document they've ever possessed, it would be nice for historians if they could expect to find them somewhere.

Baker also provides the reader with an entertaining and occasionally fascinating history of book "preservation," including the disastrous use of large, book-filled, black-goo spurting tanks of explosive gas, formerly owned by NASA. Another memorable anecdote involves the creation of paper from the wrappings of Egyptians mummies.

The fact that Baker's book is quite biased and sometimes infuriating should not dissuade an intelligent reader from giving it a shot; however, some practical knowledge of libraries and a questioning attitude are prescribed.

Well, pretty clearly vandals. Let me give another example or two of how right Baker is. I've been doing some historical research on various topics in 19th and early 20th century New Hampshire and Vermont history. Newspapers of the time are full of relevant information. Alas, actual copies of the newspapers I need no longer exist. Specifically, the Hanover (NH) Gazette, Burlignton (VT) Free Press, etc. All have been destroyed and now exist only on microfilm, much of which is simply unreadable. It would be one thing if librarians had microfilm copies of newspapers produced AND kept the originals so that those of us who needed to consult the originals could do so. But they didn't. They tossed the originals and these no longer exist. If this isn't vandalism, I don't know what is.

I don't doubt the author's word that there are isolated examples of libraries discarding old papers but I dont see any Orwellian conspiracy.
As a graduate student in Library Science and Information Studies, I would much rather manage e-books simply because paper is a big hassle. I also get tired of seeing trees cut down for untouched books.
Furthermore, managing information technology as opposed to baby sitting books has more appeal to employers and provides more cover for higher salaries.
Schools of Library Science/Information Studies can attract better students and more students to degree programs that provide skills as opposed to esoteric book studies.
However, there is no conspiracy against paper. To the contrary, the State University of Iowa offers graduate classes dealing purly with book studies.

Would suggest this be listed in the Hall of Fame.

...to even think of blaming libraries. Maybe if high powered political figures on library boards across America didn't feel the need to make their served institutions "All Things to All People" and got back to core values, and if the American public could turn off American Idol and reality TV long enough to end the Reign of the Retard, there would be the support for libraries needed to house all the items ever published anywhere, and every Podunktown can have it's own Library of Congress. Guess you've truly made it when you've sold enough books you can bite a hand that feeds you, Mr. Baker.

However that does not detract from the quality of his writing, stellar as usual.