Irish Books

A Child's Christmas In Wales CD: And Five Poems
Hurrah! Now I won't have to wait for the radio to play Dylan Thomas reading his wonderful Child's Christmas every Christmas. Truly a beautiful recording of the other poems as well.

My goodness, these illustrations are ugly. They completely detract from the beauty of the language. Either read it out loud to a blind person or stick with the version illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman.

This reading of A Child's Christmas in Wales is tops! It wouldn't be Christmas for us without hearing Dylan Thomas tell his story. He recounts a holiday of simple, family and neighborhood doings, and paints a picture of snowy, seaside Wales of the 1920's.

I love this story, as do all my children, who, from their earliest years, have not much struggled with the density of the language nor the scatteredness of the story. 5 of my 8 great-grandparents are from Wales, and the remaining 3 have the blood in them as well, so maybe it is like drinking water for us.:-D Our minds are all scattered, and words, even English words ;-D, fall on us in clumps....which makes it doubly hard to keep a clean house. LOL

The sort of prose-poetry imaginative way of seeing and describing the world unique to Welshwomen and Welshmen and Welshchildren, which does not seek to keep up the pretense that history can be separated from myth, story and desire, and which requires loving with eyes wide open to [and eventually embracing] one's own and others' bumps, bruises and idiosyncracies included, is extraordinarily well represented here. So, by the way, is speaking and listening to the close and Holy darkness!

My favorite version isthe one illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman. To me she has captured the complexity of the Welsh personality best, though i have nothing to say against the other illustrators praised in these reviews. I DO have a warning for you: there are some skinny versions flying about which do not have the poem-story complete and correct. This sort of work cannot suffer removal or modification, IMHO.

gbg

If you have read A Child's Christmas in Wales, you know that it has to be a classic. But you can't fully appreciate it until you have heard Dylan Thomas read it. What a deep, expressive, poetic voice. For years, I have listened to the recording on a Caedman record. It is wonderful to have it on a CD.

I served in the RCAF durin ww2. I later flew fighters in th USAF, served as captain on USAirways for 28 years.I have written 5 books on aviation.Jeoffrey Wellum's book is a master piece.His breath -taking descriptions of aeral battles puts you right in the cockpit of his BEAUTIFUL Spitfire.
" The narrow legs of it 'undercarrage give it a delicate apperance.It has the air of a thoroughbread---It's ellipitical wings and sleder body give it an air above all other fighters,the sound of it'sRR Merline engine produces a sound ,like nothing else in the air.I firmly believe that the Spitfire was the most beautiful fighter of ww2, and I as jeoffery said ,I would also give my arm to fly it.
I don't know which was his most dangerous flying conditions were,weather flack, or bullets. He did a yomans job in all these instances.
I have read dozens of books by RAF fighter pilots, This book is at the top of my list.Great job " BOY"

The best first hand book on flying - particularly the Spitfire, I have ever read. And I've read a lot!

Excellent first person account of the Battle of Britain but not the best I've read. If you're looking for something with a little more of the overall picture, try Fly For Your Life by Robert Stanford Tuck. Tuck's book is definitely the best memoir on the Battle of Britain I've come across and one of the best WW II books I've ever read.

This is one of those books I pick up again and again just to read a random chapter. It is that well written. It tells a story of a generation of people and there unbelievable courage & humility. I know because my own father was one of them. The deeply humourous and self depreciating strong and silent type. I doubt we shall see there like again.

Bookwriters use their fantasy and imagination to tell a tale.
Geoffrey Wellum has written from his younger years, from his own experience,what kind of world he faced.A story so incredible that our mind almost refuse to believe it's true. There's one way of capturing a reader, and that is HONESTY. Mr.Wellum is dead honest.I'm reading the book for the tenths time, stil laughing at some situations and very, very sad at others.A book very hard to put down.I guess most of the persons who want to read this book is aviations "freaks", but this book is a good read whoever you are.I've been so fortunate to have met, one of my heroes,mr Geoffrey Wellum, and talked to him.A fantastic person that I hope to meet again.

This a great collection of poems from the past! If you enjoy whimsy, this is for you!

with eliot, a maximum of content is achieved through a FORM worked with a
care and conciousness not seen perhaps since the greeks. he understood,
as he once wrote, that the novel form ended with flaubert. in the centuries after picasso and stravinsky there is no place for anything in
literature which makes people remain sitting, whithout standing and perhaps dancing. the same thing could be said about pound, very different though very twin.

The Eliot of despair, the Eliot of 'Prufrock' and 'Wasteland' is contended with and overcome by the Eliot of the 'Quartets'. The message of modern mankind's meaninglessness, the broken fragments ( of Tradition) shored against his ruin is replaced by the vision of sacred turning, a Christian vision of redemption. Eliot is a writer whose work and life break down into these two distinct periods each of which has its champions in defining what is best in him.
As one raised on 'April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land' and 'Let us go then you and I when the evening is spread out against the sky, like a patient etherized upon a table' the most memorable lines are certainly of the first phase where it ends not with a bang but with a whimper.
Yet my admiration for the hypnotic power of Eliot's memorable lines is strongly qualified by my knowledge of his 'Burbank with a Baedaker, and Bluestein with a Cigar' with his all too fashionable literary anti- Semitism. Of course Eliot was not preaching death camps and extermination but he did connect his work to the tradition of Christian Anti- Semitism.
Thus I have always had difficulty being comfortable with my 'enjoying of Eliot's poetry. And I have never been able to sympathetically read 'The Quartets.' They have always seemed to me to be too impersonal characterless and abstract.
Eliot who for most of the century strode the English Departments as if he were a colossus did noble work in reviving interest in 'The Metaphysicals' but somehow failed in my mind to write a poetry humanly rich in the deepest sense.

When you think of the best poets ever, T.S. Eliot is one of those that comes to mind. His work is well crafted, intelligent, beautifully written, and has a flow to it that few poets can match. And this is a fine collection for the Eliot lover or for the reader unfamiliar with Eliot. It's divided into several sections. The first section is his Prufrock section, poems from 1917, which contains probably his finest poems: "Prufrock", "Preludes" "Rhapsody on a Windy Night", "Hysteria", among others. Then there is the Poems 1920 section which also contains many fine poems ("Sweeney Erect" and "The Hippopotamus" being my favorites). Then follows his masterpiece The Wasteland. Then The Hollow Men which is followed by the wonderful Ash Wednesday. Then the Ariel Poems (which contains "Journey of the Magi"). Then there are two unfinished poems, "Sweeney Agonistes" and "Coriolan" which I thought were weak. Maybe they would have been great had he ever finished them. Then there is a section called minor poems followed by the mediocre "Choruses from 'The Rock.' And then there is what I consider to be his true masterpiece, "Four Quartets." And the book finishes with some occasional verses, one of which is a sweet and touching poem to his wife. This is a great collection of poems.

Yep, this is a great collection of Eliot's works. I initially found out about Eliot throught the Movie 'Apocalypse Now' in which Brando is heard reciting the poem 'The Hollow Men'. The poem sounded so good I hunted it down and came across this little book.

My favourite poems would have to be 'The Hollow Men', 'Love song of Prufrock', 'Ash Wednesday' and 'Rannoch, by Glencoe (perfectly captured, drive through Rannoch and you'll see ;-)

Yep, definetly worth a read.

This is one of those books I found as a child AFTER seeing the Disney movie and reading that it was based on a book. As usual, the book is so much better! If you've never read this book, but you're fond of the movie, or of dogs, you will love it. The story is truly heart-warming, and I love that certain scenes are oh-so familiar if you've seen the movie, but so much of the story is completely new! Did you know Perdita is NOT the name of the "leading lady"? That's all I'll say about the actual story, but please, read it for yourself, even if you don't have kids. It's a wonderful read-aloud book, too--the first time my husband ever heard about this book was when I made him lie down and let me read it to him. We didn't have a child then, so now we get to share it with our son, too. Truly, a wonderful book. However, just so you know--the second book is not nearly so good! I own both of them, but I probably won't read the second one more than one more time, when I read it to my son. It's just not at all the same thing--aliens in London? Anyway, read 101 Dalmations and I know you'll enjoy it!

I loved this book I read it when I was very young, I fell in love with it then, I lost the book and for years thought of getting it again. I feared that I would not like it as much, it was as I remembered, and not the Disney version. I still love the book it did not let let me down. It made me laugh, cry and now understand my dog a little more (ha ha)

I owned this book by Dodie Smith when I was a boy. I loved it and from this story I developed an even stronger love for dogs and animals in general. Written in a most loving way, the story takes us beyond the later Disney film's watered down presentation of the story and dives deep into the realm of dogs. We discover the magic of "dogdom" and how dogs of every kind communicate with each other and with their humans (as Dodie states, and I am certainly paraphrasing, dogs own their humans, but let them think they own the dogs because it is so sweet!)

I have only one complaint about this publication of the book. the illustrations are just short of atrocious. I had an earlier edition of the book that had wonderful drawings that clearly were created with a real understanding of the story and what Dodie was trying to say. The illustrations in this edition look like they were pulled from someone's generic dog clip art. They are technically fine in their own right (I could NEVER draw like that), but they just don't capture the magic of the book.

If you can look past the illustrations, this is a wonderful story and a well written book.

101 Dalmations has appeal to dog lovers of all ages, breeds and sizes.

Dodie Smith - Thanks for leaving this gem for all to share.

This is a charming and delightful book that is deserving of its status as a classic of children's literature.

It takes a dog's eye view of the world, and features as its heroes Pongo and Missis, a pair of Dalmatians whose litter of puppies disappears one day.

As they set off to reunite their family, they find themselves in a struggle against the illegal coat-making operation of one Cruella Deville, an iconic villainess whose name and passion for high temperatures hint that she may be the devil incarnate.

The book becomes a fantastic quest book that takes place in the heart of England. The adult dalmatians find friends and foes along their path, and end up liberating nearly a hundred little puppies.

Smith has fun with the details and logistics of feeding, disguising, and transporting the refugee puppies, and young readers will enjoy learning the particulars of the secret lives of dogs.

The original animated movie adaptation is a good and fairly faithful movie in its own right, but the book is better by far.

Some parents might shy away from the book because of the gruesome idea that Cruella literally skins her young charges, but I think that the darker elements are an integral part of the winning tone, which refrains from talking down to children.

Highly recommended!

I won my tattered, dog eared, Disyned-fied copy of "100 Dalmatians" in a school auction when I was 7 years old. I learned to read late because I'm dyslexic (hence any bad spelling you may notice) so this was the first real chapter book that I ever owned and the very first I read.

It was great. This is a fabulous novel for all ages but especially for kids. I'm not going to re-hash the plot because I think the whole world knows it by now. The themes of good parenting, loyalty, and of course, good, intelligent, kind dogs are things that every child should learn. It is true that this book contains some talk of puppy killing, which didn't disturb me, and I'm guessing that today's 7 year olds wouldn't be scared by it either.

Another reason to read, or let your child read this book is that it will encourage a love of dogs, and having grown up with dogs every minute of my life, I can tell you having one (or more) helps immensely in all kinds of situations, social and otherwise. It provides an example of love and loyalty, as well as the responsibility involved in feeding and caring for a dog. However on that note Dalmatians, contrary to the lovable Pongo, Missus and Perdita in this book, do not make good dogs for children. They don't have the temperament for it. If you read this book and decide to get a dog for your child (an excellent idea) I recommend a good old fashioned mutt (they're smarter because they're not inbred) or a border collie, which can actually be trained to be nannies for children because of their sheep herding instincts.

Anyway, five stars. Great for the whole family, and an excellent way to encourage reading in a child of any age. At 18 years old I still love reading this book. And the sequel, "The Twilight Barking" isn't half bad either.

In our household, we were "bread and buttered" listening to the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. The 33-1/3 rpm Columbia records were scratched and worn from overuse. We would play the records on family occasions and holidays. We would play favorite songs in the mornings during breakfast and as we made ready for school. In hindsight, I am surprised that the neighbors never complained or called the police.

Tommy Makem died last summer. The two eldest members of the quartet, Tom and Pat Clancy predeceased him. Liam Clancy is the sole surviving member of the recording group. This book is a sketchy and incomplete attempt at an autobiography, but it is as good as we are likely to get from this Clancy. Its strengths far outweigh its deficiencies. Readers should count themselves fortunate that Liam remembered anything at all after so many long nights and sexual misadventures. Perhaps, Tommy Makem, who abstained from drinking for most of his life, should have been taking notes for him (Makem wrote some wonderful essays, but I do not know if he ever published a full length book).

Liam Clancy was the youngest of eleven children. One of his problems when the recording group was formed in the USA was that his two much older brothers scarcely knew their youngest sibling at all. They had to introduce themselves to him when he arrived in New York. The Irish ballads and rebel songs (the Irish rebellions always seemed more successful in song than in reality) that the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem performed proved to be immensely popular. In addition the Irish diaspora, the authentic songs gained wide acceptance among fans of the Greenwich Village Folk Music scene. Liam Clancy became a fast friend of Bob Dylan.

There is a lovely story of how Clancy dropped his given Christian name while working as an actor in an Irish theatre company. A fellow actor chided him for answering to Willie, telling him that it was an "English" sounding name. He adopted the Gaelicized form and has been "Liam" ever since.

Pour yourself a drink and enjoy this book. Be thankful that the next generation of Clancy and Makem family members have taken up the songs that their fathers helped popularize internationally. Imagine how quiet our homes would have been if Clancy had kept up his father's plans and became an insurance agent!

Liam Clancy's has great literary talent. His bio is a tribute to his family and to his native land. Catholic schools greatly contributed to his native talent for the stage----I am not sure why he makes a critical remark of the Church.

The Clancy Brothers albums opened by ears to traditional celtic music in the 60s, so it was a treat for me to read Liam Clancy's account of how the group evolved. The family background and his personal development as an student, actor and musician were very enjoyable reading.
If you liked Angela's Ashes, this will certainly appeal.

First of all,there are 17 other reviews;most of them excellent and all deserve to be read.I read a fair bit of modern Irish Writing.The McCourts,Roddy Doyle,Brendan Behan,Morgan Llywelyn,Brendan O'Carroll,just to name a few.What I really like about these writers is their magical use of language.Although I have been a fan of Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers for at least 30 years,I have never read anything about them.I had no idea of how much they were involved in acting;let alone that any of them had such gifted writing skills.What a surprise;Liam's skills are as good as his musical talents.
Though not a Clancy,I heard Tommy Makem perform here in Toronto at an intimate club a few months ago.He did "Oh, me name is Dick Darby,I'm a cobbler.";mentioned on page 102.That had to be the best recitation I ever witnessed.
I would like to quote something Liam wrote about his experience in North Carolina in 1956 and he was writing about it nearly 50 years after the fact.
From page 170....
"South Carolina in the spring was seductive with scents of growing things,of magnolias and hibiscus,the air heavy with noontime heat and the swampy buzz of katydids and flying critters.The nights there belonged to the frogs and bats and flying beetles and the countless mingled smells of a land at rest after a burgeoning day's work fermenting life." Imagine the thoughts of a 21 year old,written 50 years later.
I also had no idea of Clancy's involvment with the people like Oscar Brand,Bob Dylan,Woody Guthrie,Pete Seeger,Odetta,Barbara Streisand,Lenny Bruce,Jean Ritchie,Ramblin' Jack Elliot,Brendan Behan,Diane (Guggenheim),Josh White,Alan Lomax,Mary O'Hara and on and on.
Liam gives a great insight into the world of acting and folk music of the 50's and the 60's. Now that I have read the book,I am looking forward to listening to the tape.
I also have no idea if Liam has a second book planned to cover the last 40 years.I am sure it would be a great follow up.How about it Liam,you're only 70 ,and you must still have lots to tell us.
Thanks.

I never heard Liam Clancy sing until a couple of months ago, when I found a copy of an album called "The Lark in the Morning" that looked interesting, given its cover and its date of the mid-50s. Growing up, The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem were heard of but not heard by me--I associated them with Aran knit sweaters, hearty shour-an'-begorra singalongs,novelty tunes, and the kind of kitsch that the previous generation had listened to complacently before the revival in the 70s of a tougher trad scene out of Ireland shook it all up again.

Well, I heard the tracks on "Lark" in the car without knowing who was who since I could not see the CD case listings. But when I finished it, I noticed that the songs that had stood out from the rest were all by Liam C. Impressed, I read the liner notes about one Diane Hamilton, who I had never heard of, and Tradition Records, the label for which "Lark" was the debut issue. But the whole story was not clear, given the brief notes, until I read "Women of the Mountain."

From the title, I expected a tale of lusty drunken couplings and riotuous escapades from the "Folksmen"/"Kingston Trio" era. Instead, an evocative tale of growing up eating mortar and chalk for nutrition during WWII, poverty, clerical abuse, and hardscrabble small-town life in Waterford's Carrick-on-Suir unfolded smoothly and eloquently. Sure, the blarney sometimes is laid on a bit too thick for less glib me, but the stage Irishman tendencies are kept mercifully in check by realism: the death of a sibling, the estrangement from mother and Church, the entanglement with Diane H. (who turns out to be a Guggenheim nearly as neurotic as her relative Peggy G. did for Beckett!), and the adventures on the road, in theatre, and on stage.

One surprise and a reason for four stars is the lopsided nature of the book: the singing takes decididly second fiddle to the stage in the dramatic sense. This was fascinating for me, but it misleads the reader perhaps who by the back photo of the group harmonizing might expect far more about Clancy's musical experience. He mentions, for example, as if offhandedly that he learned the tin whistle. Yes, but how? As a musician, did he find it easy after the guitar? How did it help his reportoire? Did he learn it so the group could expand its range? How does it sound to him? How does he play it? Here, music as enacted comes rather late in the book, in not a lot of detail, and seems rather superficially treated as opposed to other incidents and events.

I do commend Clancy on his delicacy with relating his own romantic and emotional engagements with women and men--he reminds us of the fragility we all possess and the need to recognize humanity in each other. And he makes his point after having earned the right to say so after his own checkered past. He comes off wise without sounding pious, intelligent without acting snobbish, and flawed without playing it up as maudlin. He handles people and places with stamina and wit, and his own coming-of-age here, while cut off while he's not even thirty yet, needs however fuller exposition than is given here. The New York Greenwich Village years deserve more depth than they're given here; the book's unbalanced in favoring much more from his pre-NYC years (nothing wrong with that) and again this may mislead misinformed readers as to its actual coverage of many more early situations predating the group's rise to fame. I also got little sense of how he got along with his fellow group members--granted that two are his brothers--but how the three Clancys got along with Makem who was from Keady in the north and from a different region, musical tradition, and political regime seemed like the sort of detail that could have enriched the book.

I guess a sequel is in the works. Like recent Irish memoirs by Frank McCourt and Hugo Hamilton, the autobiographical account stops suddently, at the height of a self-realization by the author in his formative years. I do not know if this book would have been published if McCourt had not led the way, but resilient Clancy's tale too deserves a wide readership for dispelling (as do McC and HH in their accounts--also see John McGahern's memoir) the myths of recent Irish life, while advocating a return to the more durable and more feminine myths that inspired Yeats, Behan, Synge, Joyce, and the Slieve-na-mBan/Sleivenamon that gives its rounded breasted mountain shape to the landscape that rose above Clancy's hometown.

It is difficult to praise "The Discarded Image" too highly. It can be read with profit many times. Other reviewers have told you why.

That said, I would like to say something to those who have read and enjoyed the Space Trilogy, especially "Out of the Silent Planet" and "Perelandra." In writing those excellent stories, Lewis decided that the medieval outlook on cosmology, however incorrect from the scientific standpoint, would provide a marvelous-and to most of us-unfamiliar backdrop for tales of imaginative fiction. I promise you that once you have finished "The Discarded Image," you will reread the fictional works pleasantly fascinated by how the medieval image informs the novels.

This book explained and gave amazing and insightful information about the development of the medieval worldview and mindset.

To begin with, it must be acknowledged that the subtitle of this work is apt to be misinterpreted. Lewis's last book of his own initiative, which but for some late corrections would have been published in the final months of his life, might be better understood as a 'preface' to mediaeval and Renaissance literature than as what is now most often meant by an 'introduction'. For his stated purpose is not one of identifying, summarizing, and expounding major works, but of explaining the world-view or Model of the universe which informed any educated writer or reader of the time.

Lewis is concerned that a student may succeed in achieving a semblance of comprehension yet be wholly mistaken in his or her grasp of mediaeval literature through projecting onto it either very modern ideas or, perhaps worse, modern misconceptions of what our ancestors believed. While he does touch on authors and writings familiar from the average undergraduate survey course, he dwells far more on, and digs more deeply into, somewhat obscure examples which he feels better represent the mindset of the era. Boethius and his THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY get particular attention and are alluded to repeatedly throughout. Lewis then proceeds to outline the mediaeval picture of the universe's structure; of the inhabitants it held; and of the psychological, philosophical, and metaphysical aspects which integrated the whole system.

All of this gradually reveals a cosmology far more sophisticated and a civilisation rather better informed than they are often credited with being. Understanding of the nature of the universe was not so erroneous as is now generally supposed; and where it was indeed wrong, it was nonetheless remarkably insightful as well as internally consistent. The mediaeval era emerges as the vital and extraordinary world it was, and as a fertile ground in which the so-called 'Renaissance' took root and flourished.

Lewis concludes with a cautionary reminder that our own notions of the universe and of 'Reality' itself remain comparatively incomplete and are certain to be superseded one day, not merely by new discoveries but by the ever-shifting philosophies and tastes which determine what questions are asked and thus what answers are found.

This is a book I genuinely hope to read again. Parts of it, I confess, were a bit beyond me, if chiefly because I had too little acquaintance with what was under discussion. Even so, Lewis's characteristic wit, conversational style, and contagious enthusiasm succeeded in making me wish to improve my familiarity with his subject. And to inspire such interest is surely a teacher's purpose even more than the mere passing on of information.

C.S. Lewis is just such a pleasure to read. And this book is simply a joy. I am a PhD student in medieval history and have read an awful lot of books on the medieval mind and this is by far the best. There is a slight tendency in Lewis' writing to see philosophy as the sole motor of history--but this is to be expected from his generation and it doesn't detract from the picture he paints. The best part about this book is that when I was finished reading it, I loaned it to my mother, who has absolutely no formal medieval training, and she loved it too! It's such a relief to escape the arrogant jargon of academics, that just masks their ignorance and inane analysis, and explore the world of ideas with such a master of clear and honest language.

Highly recommended for students of history as well as literature. A product of C. S. Lewis's day job at Cambridge, this volume helps the reader get inside the mind of both the common man and the writers of this period. They had a different view of reality and the world than modern man. To understand, let alone appreciate their history and literatue, you need to know how they saw things.

Broader and more scholarly that Lewis' "Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature" (Canto, 1966), I recommend "The Discarded Image" over it.

By the way, though not intended as such, it's also a great source of trivia on the origins of names and expressions.

I believe the other reviews of this book to be quite accurate; rightfully noting its annoyingly bad layout(lacking index, missing page headings of what you're reading, etc). Disregarding these shortfalls, Orwell's writing itself easily makes up for--and surpasses--were the publishers have blundered. I read these essays with child-like Christmas morning joy; finding pleasure in them as if peeling away the wrapping paper from the presents, leaving me engulfed with intrigue over Orwell's subjects, prose and opinions. This book is a real treasure trove for all those who enjoyed Orwell's most famous, if not cliche, works of 1984 and Animal Farm.

This is a beautiful, compact, hardcover, volume with a cloth bookmark built into the binding. If you are an Orwell fan, this book is well worth the money. It contains a very wide selection of Orwell essays, including the most popular ones such as "Shooting an Elephant," but also the rarer ones as well. I especially enjoyed reading Orwell's "As I Please" columns from the Tribune; these are difficult to find in compiled form.

I highly recommend this volume, but I must echo the same complaint of other reviewers: There is no index, and this makes it impossible to find Orwell's essays on a specific topic unless you already know what to look for. For example, Orwell's "As I Please" columns are labeled by the sequence number of their creation with no indication of topic. This is not very useful, as Orwell wrote about so many varied things.

All in all, a good value, but I must deduct one star because of the lack of an index. Also, I would certainly recommend this book for the Orwell aficionado, but not necessarily for the new or casual Orwell reader. Read Orwell's novels first; you will have a better appreciation of the essays afterwards.

In these by times highly emotional essays written in the 1930s and 1940s George Orwell gives us with in depth analyses his personal viewpoint on the literary, political and socio-economic scene.

In literature, he sees the novel as `a Protestant form of art, a product of the free mind, of the autonomous individual.' Orwell's aim was to `push the world in a certain direction: a battle against totalitarianism and for democratic Socialism.'
In his criticism he searches for the essential (hidden) message of the author.
Dickens's rather naïve creed is: `If man would behave decently, the world would be decent.' His ideal is `a hundred thousand pounds, a quaint old house, a sweetly womanly wife, a horde of children and no work.'
Henry Miller's books are `a passive acceptance of decay and evil.'
H.G. Wells dreams of a utopian World State.
R. Kipling is a jingo imperialist, but he didn't understand that `an empire is primarily a money-making concern'.
W.B. Yeats is in essence a defender of feudalism, `a great hater of democracy and of human equality, of the modern world, science, technology and the concept of progress.'
A. Koestler's main theme is `the decadence of revolutions owing to corrupting effects of power.'
P.G. Wodehouse's real sin is to present the English upper classes as much nicer than they are.
In `Gulliver's Travels', J. Swift delivers a frontal attack on totalitarianism and shows that he is a disbeliever in the possibility of happiness.

Orwell's view on world matters is rightly `no Law, only Power'.
Nationalism is inseparable from the desire for power.
The concentration of the media in the hands of a few rich men puts the freedom of the press and intellectual liberty under attack. The `very concept of objective truth' is lost.
The Spanish war showed him the essential horror of army life.
He is extremely severe for the British establishment: `The British ruling class thought that Fascism was on their side.' For them, `it is better to inherit, than to work.' `In an England ruled by stupidity, to be `clever' was to be suspect.'

But his solution is also naïve: `common ownership of the means of production. The State, representing the whole nation, owns everything, and everyone is a State employee.' In other words, he pleads for a massive bureaucracy.
But he contradicts himself when he complains that `everything in our age conspires to turn the writer into a minor official!'

These essays contain also vivid memories of his public school life (`irrational terror') and of his Indian life ('Shooting an elephant'). He comments on sports (`war without shooting), detective stories (J.H. Chase), poetry (`the most hated art form'), mildly pornographic comic postcards (`a harmless rebellion against virtue') and ends with a superb portrait of Ghandi.

These remarkable essays, written by a fearless superb free mind, a fighter for justice and a true `révolté' (A. Camus), are a must read.

As a lit major very interested in politics, I find this collection to be fascinating and instructive. Mr. Orwell's views on what corporations would do to the news media and the stifling effects of politically correct speech are vital today, and should be required in civics and political science classes.

Mr. Orwell managed to anger and inform both liberals and conservatives by exposing hypocrisy and dull-minded dogma. His writing style is sharp and free of tiresome twists and turns. In fact, "Politics and the English Language" (954) targets academic writing that is puffed up for no reason other than to hide the fact that the writer has little to say. (And this article should be required reading in graduate literature classes!)

The power of his insights and imagery can be seen in "How the Poor Die," a sad, upsetting essay that made me want a shower and a drink when I finished reading it. (Again, this is current today with the horribly neglected and virtually unregulated "assited living facilities"--and even the Walter Reed outpatient scandal.)

So few writers have had such vision that it is worth repeating the cliche: George Orwell was a social prophet--a genuine one.

Because of Mr. Orwell's deep understanding of political systems and human nature, his excellent style, and the breadth of his subject matter, I think it would not be over-praising him to say that this volume ranks with Montaigne's collected essays.

This volume is lovely, both in binding and text size; however, as other reviewers have pointed out, the publisher should have taken the trouble to include an index at the end of 1363 pages of essays! (Write to Knopf/Random House to complain!)

I'm going to contact my county library to arrange donating a copy of this; it is a shame this book isn't on the shelves!

George Orwell: 1984 and beyond


The futurist novels 1984 and Animal Farm are George Orwell's primary literary legacy. He contributed the phrase "Big Brother" to the language, and is remembered... if at all...as a novelist and social commentator.

But Orwell was much more than that - during the Second World War he worked for the BBC as a commentator, essayist and writer. He was a consummate professional, a brilliant satirist, and an indefatigable correspondent. He volunteered in the Spanish Civil War and wrote "Homage to Catalonia" from his experiences.

What is more surprising is that Orwell ...who died at 46... left voluminous essays, letters and reportage which have been compiled in four thick volumes by Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus. * (George Orwell: Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters; Volumes 1-IV, Nonpareil Books, 2000), and in his Collected Essays.

. He lived as a tramp for a while, got arrested for being drunk, worked low-level jobs and wrote "Down and out in London and Paris" from his experience. Orwell struggled personally and financially; his first marriage ended with h is wife's death, his second was short, and he was usually broke. That changed with the publication of l984 and Animal Farm...the latter a satire on the Russian Revolution. Ray Bradbury's classic "Fahrenheit 451" owes a debt to Orwell. His BBC broadcasts during the War were classics.

In his short life, Orwell produced a huge body of work: his Collected Writings run to 20 volumes, and his essays fill four books. He is one of the major figures of 20th Century English writing.
Major Works

"Down and Out in London and Paris" 1933
"The Road to Wigan Pier" 1937
"Homage to Catalonia" -- 1938
"1984: 1945
"Animal Farm" 1949
"Selected Essays" 1957
"Orwell: The War Broadcasts" 1985

This is one of the bases for the movie "Wonderland" but reading this book will creep you out on J.M.Barrie. You might never really like Peter Pan again. Author had access to his papers, letter, diaries etc. Very weird stuff.

I read this book over 15 years ago in an attempt to find out who the author of Peter Pan really was, and what his life was like. It was not a pleasant or easy read. I wanted to forget all about it and just have the enchantment of "Peter Pan," but as with the real life of the author and photographer of "Alice in Wonderland," the truth can wound deeply. But lies and half-truths can never reveal the relationship between biography and art, so one must often face much disturbing information in order to understand the art itself. This is not to say that art is reducible to biography; it is not. There is, nevertheless, a kind of dialectic (God, I do hate to sound so gawdawful jargony, but when it so plain, other words just do not work) between the life of a genius and the art of the same individual. The truth of art can only come from the struggle between an artist's vision and the life that made such a vision a necessity. Yes, a necessity: there are those artists whose lives were so fraught with sheer catastrophe that revelation through a skewed fantasy can be so powerful as to take on a "life" of its own. And this is why it is so grievous to "paint-over" the unpleasant details of such a life. There was a recent film with an appropriately disturbing title: in the attempt to not really "find" Neverland in Barrie's life, the art itself is drained of its truly tragic roots. At the time such "nice" little fantasies are presented, they seem so harmless, but they are not. Successful attempts to eradicate truth can also eradicate the depth of the art itself. "Neverland" is a word that begs a little attention: a land where children "never grow up." This is not to say that they physically die - no - instead they live their lives, as did Barrie, in a desolate, lifeless, and desperately lonely "land" and try, from within their internal isolation, to bring others along for the rides to nowhere and "never." Where else could such a person bring another? If one lives in "Neverland" of the mind, there is nowhere else to lead another - nowhere else to go. And if we do not face unpleasant truths as they are revealed in the crucible where life and art meet, we learn nothing further from the art. It is better, actually, to know nothing of an artist's life than to be fed untruths. I would suggest the readers either read this book and/or see Peter Pan, but would urge them *not* to see Peter Pan after experiencing a false represenation - no matter how "well-performed" the falsehood is presented. The play or story would be meaningless. The truths, whatever you choose to make of them are here in this book, like it or not. And once the genie is out of the bottle (such as when you have been fed a disingenuous Hollywood film or other disingenuous account), to refrain from the truths of an artist's life is a violation of the art. No one can any longer understand or be truly moved by Peter Pan, much less try to interpret it based upon a sugar-coated Hollywood paint-job. And the effect goes on: if other artists were inspired by Barrie's work (perhaps because it touched the nerves of their own catastrophic lives), and all we have is a candy-coated film, their art and whatever in their lives might have inpired their interest in Barrie's work is also distorted. I do not know if truth sets anyone "free," but I do know that untruths distort and harm. And then the distortion goes on . . . This book cuts deep, but struggles for truths, which is what a biography of an artistic genius should try very hard to do.

I found this book to be a well-researched and moving account of not only Barrie's life but also the lives and deaths of the original "Lost Boys". After reading this book, I read Peter Pan again in a whole new light and enjoyed it even more. I think reading this book is essential in order to fully appreciate the entire Peter Pan experience as it truly helps to bring the characters alive.

Having found this little book before the advent of the film "Finding Neverland" I was able to read it originally without comparing it to the film, always a good thing. The film, of course, changed much of the true story as films usually do. This book standing alone as far better, but note, it is not a happy story with a happy ending, it is a tragedy, and no one is left unscathed.
The photographs, almost all, were taken by Barrie himself, and are absolutely wonderful. He had a natural artistic sense, and his unposed photos of the five Llewelyn Davies boys, Michael, George, Peter, Jack, and Nico at their play, stay with you. They are dressed in the Edwardian clothes of the time, or in costumes they wore in the elaborate make-believe games they played with their childlike grownup friend Mr Barrie, and those are truly memorable in themselves. Often they are playing with J.M. Barrie's large dog, and one can't help but think of the big dog, Nanna, in Peter Pan, it's acutally quite eerie, seeing that the play "Peter Pan" itself wouldn't be written yet for years.
J.M. Barrie came from a lower class Scottish family, and in childhood lost an older brother to illness. His mother took to her bed griefstricken, for a long period, and once, trying to cheer her, young Barrie put on the older brother's clothes and went to see his mother. For just a moment she thought it was the older brother, and he seemed to see happiness in her eyes; for all his life, the message stayed with him, the boy who would never grow up was the loved boy.
He was a strange, brilliant, gentle, childlike man. Highly regarded in his own time, considered a great playwright, equivilent to George Barnard Shaw in his day; and very prosperous due to his books and plays, married, but childless, and probably not very happy in his marriage which would end in divorce, one day in Kensington Park he saw one of the five young Llewelyn Davies brothers. They struck up a friendship, based on Barrie being quite willing to talk to a child on the child's level. Soon after, he met the rest of the family, who were impressed to meet the famous playwright. Their family was also upper class, well to do, but would soon lose their father to cancer, they would thenceforth be in precarious financial straits. Barrie immediately became a combination father/ big brother to the boys. He also became close friends with their mother Sylvia Llewelyn Davies, but not, I suspect, to the degree the movie implies. It was all about the boys, their innocence, and something he wished to capture and hold on to. His obsessive photography of them makes that clear.
Tragedy struck again, unbelievably, when their mother died of cancer as well, at a young age, after a relatively brief illness. By then Barrie was such a part of their lives that his continued influence, and the benefit of his money in seeing to it that all five boys finished school in the manner befitting their "class", was accepted by the boys' extended family. He stayed involved in all their lives indefinitely, though it is interesting that he had his favorites, and the two who were not favorites resented and disliked him as they grew older.
The book stops with the boys' growing up, though he did stay involved with them as a surrogate parent. Tragedy did hound the family, but unlike some reviewers I am not sure that it can be blamed on JM Barrie's role in their lives. In fact, without him, financially they would have far worse off.
It is true the boy named Peter resented that the play was named "Peter Pan", and of course he was teased at school, and Barrie probably should have thought of that. (Of course without Barrie he most likely wouldn't have been at Eton to be teased.)
Two footnotes: all the proceeds of the play went to the Children's Hospital in London for 100 years, until recently with the 100 years anniversary, the copyright ran out, and now it is in the public domain. No proceeds of his biggest success ever went to Barrie.
Also, the girl's name: "Wendy", was first used in the play. It was an unknown name before that. Barrie used it in memory of a young daughter of a friend who was named Wendy, and who died at age 5. (Not known where that family got the name from, or if it was a nickname.) It was not a name known previously and "Peter Pan" popularized it.
Its an excellent book, an opening via the photographs into another long-gone time, a sad story, but not I believe, due to Barrie. I believe he meant well, and tried his best to be a friend to that unfortunate family. He had his demons as do we all, but to "love" children, in that era, to befriend them, and even play with them when they were pre-teens, could still occur without any implication of perversity; and even to sleep with a child, the concern of one reviewer, was, at the end of the Victorian world, seen as a pure and innocent act, like a parent and child might sleep together...I think it is hard for us in our cynical age to see things as the late Victorians/Edwardians did. No whisper of scandal or of anything improper ever came from any of the five boys, their family, servants, or anyone else connected with them; and I think had there been it certainly would have come to light. I believe he truly loved the boys, and they in turn, after he knew them several years, and had observed their play and their natural talk and style, influenced him to write his masterpiece "Peter Pan".

Prompted by the movie "Finding Neverland" I wanted to learn more about the Davies family and their relationship with Barrie. My research lead me to this book. The tragic story of the boys and Barrie was an eye opening read. Birkin is an artful weaver of ancedotes, interviews and history. While I was reading the book I got lost.I started feeling like I was an intimate friend of the families, instead of curious observer. Furthermore, Birkin's website has been updated with more pictures and media files. The website coupled with the book really saturates you into the life of the 5 boys and the mindof the man who loved them very much. A beautiful account of a flawed and tragic life.

It's about as miserable as possible, both as literary criticism and as history. Worst reading of the sonnets ever, and that is quite a remarkable achievement. A cringe-inducing embarrassment.

Who am I to go against readers as obviously astute as the seventeen who have rated this book before me and unanimously given it five stars just because it is an insane book by a crank without the slightest idea of poetry, art in general, the creative process, the times of Shakespeare or Shakespeare himself? So: another five-star rating for this gem of the lunatic conspiracy theory genre.

--Bob Grumman

Whittemore's claim begins with a particular interpretation of the first two lines of the first sonnet: "From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's Rose might never die." According to Whittemore, "Rose" (capitalized and italicized in the original, and appearing capitalized 11 more times in the 154 sonnets) means "Tudor Rose Dynasty" of which Queen Elizabeth was the last monarch.

If Whittemore is correct, then the Earl of Southampton (to whom the first 126 sonnets are apparently written) was the actual last Tudor who never became King. The sonnets are thus a tribute to Southampton and his royal claim and the first two lines are a plea to the young Earl to beget an heir so that the Tudor Rose dynasty can continue.

Whittemore's reading of the sonnets allows him to present a unified view of the mysterious verses. In my opinion, his analysis holds together quite well, providing the sonnets with internal consistency and transparently relating them to historical events. In some cases, the sonnets actually explain historical events that were previously mysterious (Southampton was convicted of high treason after the failed Essex Rebellion of 1601 but his life was spared while his co-conspirators, including the Earl of Essex, were executed).

Whittemore's interpretation is much more compelling than the usual "we don't know what the sonnets mean." In fact, he brings the sonnets to life, hugely increasing their power and interest and pathos.

Of course, Whittemore's interpretation rules out the commoner "William Shakespeare" as the author. Whittemore assumes from the outset what Mark Twain and many others have suspected: "Shakespeare" is a pseudonym. William Shakespeare of Stratford who never wrote a letter, didn't own any books, didn't teach his children to read, and who could barely write his own name, did not write the plays and poems which were so obviously written from the perspective of nobility. (If you are 100% certain that "Shakespeare" was NOT a pseudonym, then Whittemore's book obviously isn't for you.)

The book itself contains each of the sonnets side by side with Whittemore's interpretation. The author also provides some background information and many pages of detailed line by line cross references between the sonnets, Shakespeare's work, de Vere's writing, possible sources etc.

For me, personally, understanding the meaning of Sonnet 140: "Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press/ My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain/ Lest sorrow lend me words and words express/ The manner of my pity-wanting pain" was worth the price of the book. It's obviously a threat, but against who and why and under what circumstances? Whittemore seems to have figured it out.

Read "The Truth Will Out" by Brenda James.

Then read the first line of Ben Jonson's two page dedicatory poem to Shakespear in the First Folio, which goes

"To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name"

Which can be written

"To draw no NV (Shakespeare) on thy name"

NV is NeVille - how Henry Neville sometimes signed himself.

Neville was in the Tower with Southampton, for the same offence and also sentenced to death, and Brenda James thinks HE is Shakespeare! To be or not to be ... was written when he was in the tower under sentence of death!

I think the three were brothers, Oxford (1548) 15 years older than Neville (1563) who was 10 years older than Southampton (1573). None of them would have discovered their true identity until they were in their late teens or early twenties. Elizabeth was 15, 30 and 40 when they were born.

Neville had even more experience of Italy and France than Oxford - and they had a great deal in common - Neville was also very interested in Italy, astronomy - I believe he actually met Tito Brahe in Vienna - and in plays. For 6 months of the year he lived in the middle of London, close to Oxford, and near Blackfriars, where the protoplays were performed. Neville and Oxford had relatives in common - Neville was closely related to Cecil. For some reason he has been completely forgotten about - even though he was thought by a number of his contempories to be the most bookish of his generation at Oxford. I think James I went for writing lessons with him in 1604. The King James Bible is almost certainly his work - written after Oxford died.

Oxford worked closely with several writers, and a great number of the plays concern him - and the proto plays of the 1570s and early 80s were probably by him - and although the text of the plays has not survived, some of the names and plots have, and they are very similar to Shakespeare's plays.

I think that most of the finished, polished, works of "Shakespeare" are by Neville, who would have worked closely with Oxford from 1586, or so, onwards. The history plays were an important political project, that would have been supported by Elizabeth and Cecil - from 1586 on Elizabeth paid Oxford £1000 a year - about $1m in todays money. The original plots of a number of the plays, and maybe the writing - before they were rewritten and polished by Neville - may have been by Oxford, and his assistants.

A number of people in the 16th century thought Elizabeth had children. One or two were executed - it was against the law to say she had children! The others that we know about wrote about the rumours in their diplomatic dispatches - I think there are records in Madrid, Paris and maybe one or two other European capitals. But not in England! Where state censorship was very effective. Elizabeth, who was highly sexed and had no access to effective contraceptives, probably had 5 or 6 children.

Henry VIII had several illegitimate children who were placed in noble families - and some of them were a similar age to Elizabeth, in her Court, and did work for her, during her reign. If her father could place his illegitimate children in noble families, why couldn't she? Do not forget that noble families NEEDED heirs - and Oxford, Neville and Southampton were only sons, with curly orange hair! How many people do you know with curly orange hair? I know that the gene for red hair is recessive.

Who knows - Elizabeth herself may have joined in the writing of the plays - she may have helped come up with some of the extraordinary plots - I believe that she was pretty literate herself, and really enjoyed the plays!

So there you go - the works of "Shakespeare" were a family affair! And Neville was a seriously interesting chap himself - one of the founders of two party democracy, a principal player in the London Virgina Company - which was one of the first large capitalist enterprises - it had more than 600 shareholders - and became the USA. Neville tried and failed to persuade James to change his finances from feudal to Parliamentary - we needed the Civil War to sort that out. The "New River" bringing clean water into London from Hertfordshire in 1613 was his idea I believe - and it is still there today, nearly 400 years old.

I will have to buy the book!

While I always loved the language of Shakespeare's Sonnets, I had more or less given up on them. They were obviously deeply autobiogrqaphical, but to what and to whom did they they refer? Were they heterosexual love poems or, as commentators reluctantly came to assume, homosexual tracts directed to the Earl of Southampton who had been the dedicatee of the two long poems Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece? But how did the latter jibe with the failure of anyone to come up with a connection between the man from Stratford and the Earl? And what sense did it make when the first thirty or so sonnets where addressed to a young man urging him to marry and reproduce himself? And what about the "rival poet" and the "dark lady" who appear in the later sonnets? Many commentators have given up in despair and the orthodoxy became that the autobiography was irrelevant to the poems which had to be read things in themselves without outside reference. So I gave up. Until, that is, I looked into Hank Whittemore's "The Monument."

Whittemore works from the assumption that "Shake-speare" was a pseudonym for Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford. The reasonihg behind this has moved from "crank" status to a new kind of orthodoxy, and indeed is all that makes sense of the disrepancy between the life of the man from Stratford and the poems and plays. We can't look at all the evidence and argument here, but we can look at how this assumption helps to explain the content of the sonnets. Whittemore sees them as a chronological series directed by Oxford to Southampton, who was his son by Elizabeth I, secretly put out for fosterage with the Southampton family. This is the famous "Prince Tudor" hypothesis, and before readers throw up their hands they should look carefully at the evidence. I would have dismissed it as improbable except for the fact it does indeed make great sense of the sonnets. The first set about the failure of the young man to marry for example: directed by the Stratford man to Southampton they make little sense and are positively impertinent, but seen as directed by a father to the son he could not acknowledge, but whom he passionately wanted to perpetuate the Tudor dynasty and so ensure his own position as potential King (Henry IX) they fall into place. Add to this that the proposed bride was Oxford's daughter Anne (whom he did not believe was his biological child) and the matter becomes alarmingly obvious. The one hundred central sonnets that follow this series Whittemore shows to be a day by day chronicle of the days spent in prison (the Tower)by Southampton under sentence of death from Elizabeth for his part in Essex's rebellion - one of the jurors in the trial being Oxford himself.
The "dark lady" series refers to Elizabeth herself, and the "rival poet" is of course the adopted persona "Shakespeare" behind which Oxford was forced to hide.

Whittemore takes each sonnet and goes through it line by line showing the code or special language that Oxford used and which explains so much of the persistent imagery of the poems. He examines and cross-references the usages to all the "Shakespeare" works, and includes a detailed chronological history of the historical events that parallel the action of the sonnets, ending with the death of Elizabeth and the dramatic pardoning of Southampton by James I when he ascended to the throne of England. At this point Oxford, as part of the deal with Robert Cecil and James had to completely abandon any ambitions for his son ("I must not evermore acknowledge thee...") and leave the Sonnets as the only "Monument" to the truth.

This is a huge book and a huge enterprise. A shorter version evidently exists that leaves out the details and references, but the reader who is willing to be patient will, as I did, get thoroughly enthralled with the details of the evidence. As poem after poem emerges making complete sense in the context of its writing vis-avis the tormented life of the young Earl of Southampton and the agony of the father who could not acknowledge him but loved him with a moving and desperate devotion, and a picture of great drama and passion emerges. Given the unorthodox theory that he is supporting, Whittemore needs to go to these extraordinary lengths to be convincing. He will be challenged of course, and rightly so. Sometimes he might be overanalyzing and putting too much faith in the sonsistency of the "code." "Beauty" might always refer to Elizabeth, but sometimes, as Freud said, a cigar is just a cigar. Even so, any critic is going to have to show in the same massive detail why he is wrong. This is not a work that can be dismissed as the Baconian codes and cyphers were (rightly) dismissed. When, as in sonnets 30 to 35 for example, the exact reference to the trial of Southampton and Oxford's agonizing part in it become obvious, I have a vast sense of relief, of insight. At last it makes sense. The reader does not need to look at every last note to each poem. Once you get the idea it is enought to read the poem, read the Wittemore' "translation" and get the historical (day by day) context. The notes are there for further referrence and for the scholars. This is an immense work of scholarship, of a very rare kind, one that serves the reader as a source of revelation, and the scholar as a mine of information and dispute. You may not buy it all - and you will have to work at understanding the basic premiss and clear the mind of the cant associated with standard "Shakespeare" biographies, but for all those who like me have been frustrated by a failure to make sense of the most profound autobiographical sequence in any literature, this is a powerful breath of fresh air. If the poems were "Shake-speare's" Monument, then this magnificent book is Hank Whittemore's own Monument and will itself father many distinguished offspring as its possibilities are realized.

Tim Severin and his intrepid crew recreate Brendan and his fellow monks' voyage in the 6th century from Ireland to North America in a small ox-hide boat (curragh). The natural materials and traditional techniques that Brendan used are authentically utilized to make the Brendan voyage a successful historical re-creation and a thrilling sea adventure.

Tim Severin is a born storyteller. As far as a historical re-creation event, this voyage has some parallels to the Kon-Tiki expedition. The reason for making the Brendan voyage was to answer the question: Did Irish monks sail across the Atlantic centuries before the Vikings?

This book relates an amazing seafaring adventure. There is one scene where the sea is calm when a pod of orcas spot the Brendan (boat's name). The orca alpha bull comes full tilt at the boat, dorsal fin eight feet above the water line. The crew holds their breath as the bull whale swims under the boat, checking out this strange thing. After an eternal minute of silence, they watch the bull surface and swim back to the pod. High drama indeed.

Tim Severin and his crew are the very definition of intrepid. Severin's level of enthusiasm is amazing; it is never diminished by the cold, wet, and treacherous sailing conditions. His composure as the captain of this little boat is compelling and inspirational.

I would also suggest getting a copy of the hardbound edition, which unfortunately is out of print. The photos of this voyage tell every bit as much of this story as does the text.

Highly recommended.

Extracts: A Field Guide for Iconoclasts

I almost put the book down while reading the first half, but stuck with it, and was rewarded in the second half. I wasn't interested in hearing about the cultures of the places where the boat crew came ashore. Actually, I wasn't interested in reading about anything but the "voyage" proper. And, in this book, you'll get info about the history of some of the places they landed and other "side info". As a result, I found the first half of the book slow and boring.

Nonetheless, once they began the largest leg of the journey, and couldn't land anywhwere, the book picked up pace and held my interest. It turned out to be quite a voyage and a heck of a feat. In the end, I'm glad I read it. But, with that said, I'd have been disappointed had I paid full price for the book.

The Brendan Voyage is the true-life story of what has been called the greatest epic voyage in modern Irish history. Author Tim Severin and his friends built a boat using only techniques and materials available in the sixth-century A.D., when St. Brendan allegedly sailed to America. The vessel consisted of forty-nine ox hides stitched together and stretched over a wooden frame, yet it was a seaworthy creation capable of withstanding storms and a puncture from pack ice during its voyage from Brandon Creek in Dingle to Newfoundland. Now in a new edition, The Brendan Voyage has been translated into twenty-seven languages, and proves that St. Brendan could have indeed reached America - though whether he actually did is a conundrum left to historians. Written with narrative skill, and illustrated with a handful of black-and-white photographs The Brendan an exciting true nautical tale of courage, adventure, and accomplishment.

This is a book that unfortunately can be read very quickly.
The author sets out to prove that the journal of St.Brenden is not
as always susposed,alogorical, but a very real tale.With painstaking authenticity he seeks out old timers on the west coast of Ireland who still know how to make boats from bull hide,and sets them the task of building to spec the boat of St.Brenden.The rest is as you might imagine; a voyage to America in a 6th century leather boat.Magnificient story of courage and man against the sea.

Tim Severin has organised several voyages in part to prove that ancient peoples could travel far greater distances than previously thought. In this story he builds a traditional leather boat or 'curragh' to show that monks could have sailed from Ireland to Newfoundland around the seventh century. There is an ancient book called the 'Navagatio' (one old copy is in the British Library) which St Brendan wrote about his voyages around the Atlantic Ocean. It is thought from Brendan's descriptions that he island-hopped via the Faroe Islands, Iceland and Greenland to get to America, and Severin follows this route in a dangerous and interesting adventure taking many weeks. There is much detail on how he built the boat using only traditional methods and materials which was no mean feat in itself despite their still being used in the south-west of Ireland for fishing. The book contains colour photos of the boat's construction and of the diverse and colourful crew who sailed her. The book reminded me of the 'Kon-Tiki' book by Thor Hayerdahl. Also, the pictures are brilliant - and Tim's descriptions of the ports of call such as Iceland and the Faroes are very vivid and realistic. It's a well-written, interesting book and well worth a read.