Austria Books

This is a fantastic read. Ravenscroft really nailed it on the head as far as I'm concerned. I have spoke to older people who walk in esoteric circles and threw the names of Stein,Steiner, and Eckart and they were all familiar to them. It was great to be able to know for sure what I had expected all along. Without giving anything away, I highly recommend "The Spear of Destiny" and Ravenscroft's other two titles also. Very deep reading.Edge of your seat stuff.

I bought this book with very high expectations since I have always been interested by the occult and the notion of Hitler being a close follower of the occult and seeking items of the occult for world domination. This book goes back and forth between fascinating and disappointing for me.

The book starts off great telling the story of the crucifiction of Christ and the Roman soldier driving the spear into his side to keep His body from being mutilated while still on the cross and then goes off into what a state of desperation Hitler was in during his younger years, how he lived like a vagrant and tried to sell his mediocre artwork instead of getting a job and how he became obsessed with the occult and tried to unlock the secrets of the spear of destiny.

From there the book seems to wax and wane on its focus of Hitler and tends to go off on teangents about other sects of the occult and secret societies that people in Hitler's inner circle were in and this goes on for pages and pages before ever getting back to the original point. I've had lots of trouble keeping my focus while reading this book. At certain parts I'm very fascinated by it and then at others I'm bored with it. This book is written like a research paper so if you're a historian or have a die hard interest in the spear and black magic then this book is for you. If you just have a casual interest in it like myself, you might try something else.

It is amazing how this book maps out the travels of the spear. if you love facts, a great historical story-line, and religion. Then this book is definitely for you.

I read the book almost 22 years ago, and after living in Europe, having grown up Catholic, and reflecting on Europe and the Church's history, it is painfully obvious that the theological failure of the Church (Roman and Protestant) is primarily responsible for the failed spiritualization of Europe and consequently, the West.

Students of Jung, Ouspensky and Gurdjieff, and Castaneda or even fans of the book Jesus, The Man, will find this book a confirmation of the idea that real spirituality in the West has been subverted historically by a group of narrow power-oriented "lawyers" (read: theologians and church bureaucrats) who created a monstrous doctrine out of the Christian experience that could not withstand the ravages of science.

The Church's failure in this regard opened the floodgates for nationalism, for the magnification of unredeemed ego expression through the industrialization of war. It is not necessary to believe in reincarnation to embrace the central thesis of this well written , fascinating book.

After 35 years, there has still been no convincing rebuttal to Trevor Ravenscroft's brilliant book. That's really all you need to know before you buy it. The evidence presented is so good, so compelling, that it simply has to be ignored by professional scholarship because they can't deal with it any other way. Essentially, this book gives us Hitler behind the usual list of dates and events. It delves into his personal life to reveal Hitler's hitherto unknown spiritual passions and the tradition from which he drew his inspiration. The Allies always prevented any attempt to explain Nazism as anything other than primitive brute force, because they were well aware of Hitler's rationale.

I am surprised by how, it seems to me, Monk distorts or reinterprets what the memoirs and reports of others have to say about Wittgenstein. He slanders and discounts anyone who reports how introverted and self absorbed W was. I have many questions about the validity of his contributions to philosophy, but it seems to me that he was an extremely self centered and not very nice man. After dismissing practically everything Russell says about and in responce to W, I am curious how he handles this in the bio of Russell.

This is a very good biography of the brilliant, very influential, and rather odd Ludwig Wittgenstein. Monk sets out to provide a thorough narrative that depicts both Wittgenstein's career as a philosopher and his unusual personal life in a way that shows the unity of this life. Monk presents Wittgenstein as a man in constant search of an elusive goal of authenticity or a very demanding form of self-fulfillment. Wittgenstein seems to have been driven by a virtually religious need to pursue some form of meritorious life. This doesn't appear to be in any ordinary sense a desire to be useful to others but rather a sense that life would be misspent if not devoted to some kind of higher calling. This is the "Duty of Genius" referred to by the title of the book. Wittgenstein attempted to do this in various ways throughout his life. In addition to what was at times an obsessive preoccupation with philosophical issues, Wittgenstein sought fulfillment by serving as an enlisted man in the Austro-Hungarian Army, as an elementary school teacher, and as a hospital porter in London during the Blitz. In a particularly telling episode, he signed over all of his considerable wealth (his father had dominated the Austrian steel industry) to his equally wealthy siblings, apparently because he regarded affluence as an obstacle to self-fulfillment. Much of this search for fulfillment had an irrational or even mystical element, and its clear that he spent much of his life profoundly unhappy with himself. One gets the sense that if Wittgenstein had had conventional religious views, he might well have found satisfaction in a cloistered religious life.

Wittgenstein's personal relationships reflected his rather self-involved focus. In addition to his intellectual brilliance, he must have possessed considerable charisma. Throughout his life, he was able to attract the friendship and support of intelligent, and in many cases, remarkably patient individuals who were able to tolerate his often odd and sometimes thoughtless behavior. While he clearly had strong hermetic impulses, he clearly had a strong need for friends. In later years, he actually attracted disciples, and seems to have had somewhat homoerotic relationships with at least 2 of them.

How does this fit in with Wittgenstein's work in philosophy? Monk points out the strange way that Wittgenstein came to philosophy. In his early 20s, Wittgenstein had apparently embarked on a career as an engineer. He then became interested in basic questions of logic, influenced by the work of Frege and Russell. He sought out Russell, who accepted him as a disciple at a time when Russell felt that someone else needed to take up the task of continuing the work that Russell had started. Wittgenstein had little prior knowledge of philosophy. As Monk points out, while he later read some important philosophers, Wittgenstein had read little philosophy at this point in his life. Wittgenstein does seem to have been influenced by Schopenhauer but probably more importantly by figures from the Viennese milieu of his youth like the critic Karl Kraus. A particular favorite seems to have been an obscure Viennese writer named Weininger, of whom Wittgenstein remained very fond, and who originated the duty of genius notion. In later years, Wittgenstein would look to other unconventional thinkers for inspiration including Goethe's writings on biology and perhaps most surprisingly, the pseudo-historical analysis of Oswald Spengler.

Wittgenstein, then, was both congenitally and by choice, an outsider to the Western philosophical tradition. This accounts partly for his apparently unique approach to philosophy.

Monk emphasizes Wittgenstein's primary preoccupations with ethical self-transformation, the irrational, and methods, as opposed to conclusions in philosophy. This is one aspect of this book I found disappointing. The descriptions of Wittgenstein's philosophic work and the context in which they arise are not as good as the narrative about his personal life and psychology. To get the most out of this biography, I recommend reading Monk's concise book, How to Read Wittgenstein, which is about 100 pages and quite clear. Taking both the biography and Monk's other book together, Monk shows very well how Wittgenstein's personal life and philosophic work come together. If the point of life was a search or struggle for ethical self-fulfillment rather than attaining a given goal, its not surprising that Wittgenstein's analysis would stress methods and the limits of reason rather than scientifically oriented conclusions. If what made life valuable was aesthetic concerns and somewhat Romantic ideals of culture, then its not surprising that there would be mystical, even contradictory element in Wittgenstein's work.

Monk records that Wittgenstein's last words were, "Tell them I've had a wonderful life." An odd statement for a man who was so often profoundly unhappy. Yet, if the search for self-fulfillment rather than any definite piece of knowledge is the measure of success, Wittgenstein was one of the most successful men of his time.

I do not have major problems with the book though the writing certainly did not capture my attention. I stopped liking and admiring Wittgenstein half way through the book. I was drawn by his ideas to his biography. However, just like what an old saying says -"If you like the egg, you don't need to know the chicken that laid it", I should have just stayed with the ideas. Wittgenstein might be an accidental genius but certainly not someone likable (by my criteria).

The positivist, analytical tradition in philosophy is what most people would associate Wittgenstein with in the first instance, provided they had heard of him in the first place. Because of his, and because of his philosophical attacks on the meaningfulness of the concepts of metaphysics, theology, spirituality and even most of logic, he is often depicted as some sort of cold, unfeeling Grand Master sitting on a pinnacle of Genius of Philosophy. But as Ray Monk's biography shows with much vigour, he was in reality a very troubled, confused, unhappy, spiritual, and above all very human person.

Making use of all the manuscripts available as well as the many correspondences of Wittgenstein, Ray Monk, a philosopher at the U of Southampton, is able to show the Wittgenstein we know as a person that one could not only sympathize with, but even pity. Because as it appears from the biography, Wittgenstein was a deeply unhappy man. His relationships were, from early life on, troubled - not as often supposed because of their bisexual nature, but rather because of his general revulsion to what he calls "sensuality" on the whole, and his tendency to flee from the people he loved. His friendships fared no better, since Wittgenstein was both fickle and dominating, unable to deal with disagreement and very strong in his views even on very minor things of daily life - which leads to repeated diary notes and comments by everyone, from Keynes to Russell, on how talking to Wittgenstein was simply too exhausting. Add to this a constant wrestling with the fact that Wittgenstein was very religious, yet thought all religious theory meaningless babble, and you have a recipe for depression.

Monk of course also pays attention to the content of his philosophical views, and makes sure that these are, in broad outlines, accessible and useful to a general public. For specialists and professional philosophers this will rather be a tantalizing overview than a sufficient working out of Wittgenstein's philosophical views, but fortunately Monk has also written several works of secondary literature on the subject, so that people can read those if they enjoy this biography (which I would certainly read first): How to Read Wittgenstein. What Monk does best is to integrate these philosophical viewpoints into the larger narrative of his life, precisely as a good biography of a philosopher requires. The only thing I found somewhat unsatisfying was why Wittgenstein changed his views so strongly after the Tractatus, more or less rejecting the entire foundation this work was based on. One would have expected something personal to reflect as radically the change in philosophy, but either it isn't there, or Monk doesn't bring it out.

The style of writing Monk uses is very pleasant, and he avoids being opinionated either way (though he seems to sympathize with Wittgenstein's spiritual problematic a lot more than I would). An appendix to the book also deals with the (in)famous Bartley's commentaries on Wittgenstein (Wittgenstein (Modern)), in particular those parts dealing with his sex life. Ray Monk very sensibly here chooses the middle road - it is quite beyond any doubt that Wittgenstein had homosexual relations, but the idea of him prowling the Prater in search for rentboys belongs firmly in the domain of fantasy.
I devoured the 600-page biography of this neurotic genius in one weekend, owing to the fascinating nature of the subject as well as Monk's effective and lively portrayal of him. Very much recommended to a wide public.

This is biography the way it should be written--focused on what made the subject important, and providing background context only to the degree necessary to situate people and events. Wittgenstein's temperament and personality were so inextricably bound up in his thought that any distinction evaporates. He thought like the person he was: ascetic, intuitive, and introverted. He questioned the value of his doing philosophy, as he questioned the value of his own thinking. His sense of duty was the obligation to speak the truth, no matter how awkward...or to be silent.

I liked the intricate plot with its many characters, twists and surprises, however I found some sections to be a bit repetitive.

I particularly liked how Edwards captured and described the fin de siécle athmosphere in Vienna: it still feels exactly the same every time I visit, no matter how often I return to that magnificent city.

I was surprised by the many misspellings of almost all German words and expressions: mitt schlagg (should've been "mit Schlag"), Schonbrunn (Schönbrunn), Fraulein (Fräulein) among others. I guess the draft checker didn't use the proper language settings - maybe the editor will correct them in the following editions.

Overall and entertaining book; 4 stars for the uneven pacing and spelling errors.

The author has a wonderful imagination, but alas - the writing is not as wonderfull, and he is in need of a good editor.

Well written and cleverly plotted, this book will keep you reading and guessing throughout. Wheeler Burden, the main character, a rock star, intellectual, and celebrity of the 1980's, finds himself in Vienna in 1897 - a place he is familiar with through various family stories and connections through the ages. That these connections all start to play out around him is an understatement. Intricately plotted, the book often seems in danger of collapsing under its own weight - but it does not. And in that tension is much of its charm. If you like historical fiction with a smidgen of fantasy thrown in, this is an enjoyable read, to be sure.

I was disappointed because of high expectations. I'm fascinated by fin de siècle Vienna. I endured four years of prep school. And I listened to Maureen Corrigan's reivew (Fresh Air, 8/20). So I looked forward to reading this. I read the first half to two-thirds of the book with enjoyment, with its evocation of both imperial Vienna and World War Two. Unfortunately, the rest of the book seemed focused on tying everything together -- perhaps too neatly -- and in the end, I was left wondering what was the point, especially if the villain of the piece is never punished. This will not entertain anyone who can't accept how the two heroes, father and son, personify all the virtues and implausibly connect with so much of the cultural life of the twentieth century.

This is a charming book- relaxing, interesting, engaging- and, once I began the book, I returned to it with pleasure over a couple of days, grabbing every spare moment I could find (including neglecting my work, alas) to curl up and read. I really enjoyed these characters that teetered on the heroic, but were amusingly human, plus the story, the settings, the relaxed and interesting pace. I'm comfortable with fabulous turns in tales, so that was fun and not troubling to me, as it was to some other reviewers (I wonder if they'd call "One Hundred Years of Solitude" science fiction too-- what, exactly, is the "science" part?). Anyway, as a reader now living not far from the Feather River and a one-time resident of Cambridge, MA, I enjoyed the wonderful way the author caught the special flavor of those places... and now, of course, I want to travel to Vienna, preferably to the turn of the last century. Oh well, this book will have to do, along with a few new CDs of Mahler symphonies, or a philosophy book, or a novel by Victor Hugo checked out from the library...

The story follows several soldiers in different parts of Napoleon's army. The story moves along well, the characters are sort of interesting and the blood and guts and brutality of war are well depicted. It isn't a literary masterpiece or anything.

There are some infelicities of translation that are annoying. For example, a horse is an arabian, not an arab. Please, it should be, "he mounted his arabian." "He mounted his arab," as Will Hobson renders it more than once, conjures a very disturbing mental picture.

Also, Patrick Rambaud hasn't exactly mastered Napoleonic-era warfare from muzzle to buttplate. Within a couple of pages, he has two laughers. In the first, he has a sergeant urging his soldiers not to fire until the enemy is 500 meters away. In reality, smooth-bore muskets were ineffective beyond 200 meters; a musket ball would be nearly "spent" at 500 meters and might not even penetrate clothing, leaving only a bruise (in the unlikely event it actually hit someone). Obviously there are always exceptions, but the rule of thumb was that the effective range for smooth-bore muskets was about 100 meters for individual targets and 200 meters for large masses of men. Firing at an individual target, or even a large mass of men, at 500 meters would be a stupid waste of ammunition (something that French ran low on before the battle was over).

In the second mistake, he claims that it takes 3 minutes to reload the musket. In reality, trained soldiers could reload a muzzle-loading musket in about 20 to 30 seconds, allowing them to get off two to three shots per minute. Some of the British troops of the era were better drilled and faster, and could fire four shots per minute.

But although Rambaud is wildly inaccurate about these details of Napoleonic fighting, his overall telling of the battle seems to be very accurate. Rambaud relies heavily on first-hand accounts, written by Marbot, Lejeune, Massena and others who were at the battle, and these keep him from getting too far afield. His anecdotes about Napoleon and the marshals are mostly as reported by those who were there.

This is a lively account of the events comprising the desperate battle at Aspern-Essling near Vienna in 1809. As a work of historical fiction the author does a good job bringing the actual events to life. Some of the character development in the beginning of the story seemed a little muddled as the author uses surnames and first names to describe the same French characters. This was a little confusing to follow at first. Also, the novel appears to have been a French work translated into English. There are some minor editing issues still apparent.

The usual fiction elements are employed, switching around between characters and plot providing contrast and tension when required. Some of the authors descriptions of uniforms did not seem accurate, nor were some of the references to the actual combat formations. Hohenzollern's Korps was an actual Austrian formation, yet the way it is referred to at times seems vague and confusing. Hohenzollern was the name of the Korps commander, not the troop formations! Little details like this made me wonder if these were actual editorial blunders or something more!

The descriptions of the actual fighting seems very good. The author places his fictional characters in all the crucial action so that the reader gets vivid accounts of what occured as well as accurate portraits of the historical personages. In particular the scenes with Napolean convery all the brilliance, arroagance and impatience of L'empeueur. None of the fictional characters perform any amazing feats, which means no Sharpe-like supermen are present! These characters while perhaps somewhat bland, blend in well with their surroundings. They highlight and contrast against the historical characters nicely. The author provides some horrific hospital scenes converying what the human cost for conflict was in this period. Lacking perhaps is a view of what went on in the Austrian camp, but this might have cluttered things up needlessly.

Having recently been to the battlefield myself the novel does bring these events to life. The area around Vienna has changed a lot since 1809. In particular the Danube no longer presents so many inlets and marshes as it did then. Still, it is possible to imagine the events described here, and the author deserves credit for an impressive job. He employed a number of historical works, almost all French, many of them primary manuscripts in his research. The verse is a bit dry at times, but this could be more due to translation issues.

The reader still gets a pretty clear look at the fury and horror of a Napoleanic battlefield. Aspern-Essling was Napolean's first real set back in what was a hard fought campaign in 1809. This, and Wagram a few weekes later were a portent of things to come in terms of large-scale, truly bloody battles. This work is well worth a read providing as it does a pretty good look at events. If read in conjunction with non-fiction works on the battle the best results might be achieved.

I read very little fiction and when I do choose to do so, I usually follow good historical fiction in the vein of Shaara's fictions series of books. I came across Rambaund's book while looking for a historical fiction book set during the Napoleonic era. "The Battle" won the Prix Goncourt and the Prix de l'Academie Fran aise awards and so I thought that it must be of some worth.

I was not disappointed. Despite some minor translation difficulties, I found the translation smooth and the authors work very readable. It allowed me to get the feel of the time and the warfare from a personal viewpoint. The storyline kept my interest and I enjoyed the book to the level that I have ordered the other two books in the loose linked trilogy, "The Retreat" and "Napoleon's Exile". However, one does not have to read all three books to get a sense of closure. The first book ends and if the reader never proceeded to the second book, he will not feel like he has been left hanging.

It has been a year or so since I read the The Battle. A good test of its quality and value is that the complexities and color of the characters remain in memory. Well-written books have a lasting impression. This book is in that classification of memorable stories with memorable characters who jut into mind at unexpected times. The book would stand alone as a good book to read, even if it was not part of the bigger fictional canvas of the Napoleonic Age.

Aspern-Essling was a defeat for Napoleon. The actual location is among the islands in the Danube River near to the modern center of Vienna. The battle itself is remembered for several reasons, but it is not among those celebrated by the French in the retelling of the Age of Napoleon. After the Battle of Aspern-Essling, Napoleon started on the down-slope despite a widely celebrated comeback victory at Wagram in 1809 shortly after the crisis at Aspern-Essling.

This book is a clear and well tailored account of the structure of the tactical situation in the two days at Aspern-Essling. Amidst the overall structure, a certain palpable chaos reigns and the author then does a skillful job bringing out the story. Most of the notable events of the two days, such as the construction and destruction of the bridge at Lobau, are somehow packed into the story.

We meet a wide variety of characters in the book. My favorites include Massena, Lannes and Stendhal, the latter being the later-famous French writer, who is depicted in his role as a supply officer. The book also develops the story of the death of Marshall Lannes (Roland of France).

I recommend the book as a serious contribution to the Napoleonic literature. It fills a void that is left by other books. Apparently, authors tend to shy away from Napoleon's lesser defeats in favor of his greatest victories and his most tragic losses. So, if for no other reason, Rambaud is to be congratulated for his courage in taking on a more obscure scene for his excellent writing.

Rambaud is no Tolstoy or Stendhal, but he is among the better writers actively producing fiction about the Napoleonic Age. His stories are well organized and he develops excellent characters in a very economical writing style. You feel informed, aware and not rushed in his story telling. However, when you consider the length of the books and the language of the books, you fully appreciate that every detail has been organized and crafted for clarity and impact.

This is a great update for anyones collection, I have many new Pez
dispensers that are now listed in this updated edition.

Although it's not a highly competitive category, this book takes the top spot in Pez guides.
Being the newest, it has the most up to date pictures, prices and products.
The extended section on candy packs, and Pez paper products/inserts is helpful, as other books lacked in that departement.
Overall it's a solid price and picture book, with accurate estimates and such. It's the best of what's out there, so it's worth a shot.

Being a personal friend of Shawn Peterson would probably leave you with the notion that I have a biased opinion. Having known him for a number of years and knowing his passion for collecting PEZ, I assure you that a significant amount of time, effort, and research went into this book. In reading a couple of, what I feel are unwarranted, negative reviews of this book I'd wholeheartedly disagree with their assessment. This is an outstanding book of reference with excellent photography and informative narrative. I recommend it to anyone in the hobby, or anyone simply wanting to reflect back to their childhood and reminiscing about a much simpler time in life. He's done an outstanding job in assembling an historic perspective of the company, rare and unusual dispensers, as well as common variety and new offerings. Buy with confidence and enjoy!

Shawn Peterson's Collector's Guide to Pez is filled with useful information on prices and availability of almost every Pez dispenser ever made. Along with wonderful, colorful photos and great details, Peterson has included great information for both beginning and advanced collectors of Pez products. His information on convention, collectors groups, and bargain hunting are particularly useful as a resource. In a hobby as fun and varied as Pez collectiong is, a great tool is needed. Peterson's text is the Bible for lovers of Pez both young and old. This is the only book you need whether you are a new collector or an old pro. It is definetly worth the money and will be a great addition to your growing Pez collection.

Many people like myself collect Pez dispensers. It is a wonderful hobby to have because it is virtually impossible to find every variation of every dispenser there is. Sometimes there are many different variations of a single dispenser, for example the colors that were made. This is where this guide comes in handy. In here you will find colorful pictures of almost every known dispenser made, along with pictures of some different variations. This helps you know what you are looking for when you want a certain dispenser. Listed also are estimated values of the dispensers, which is also helpful in giving you an idea of what that certain dispenser will cost you normally. Also pictured in this book are different inserts from the packages, different displays that were available, different flavor packs that have been packaged with the dispensers and even Pez with unique or foreign packaging. This is a great book for collectors and even those who are a little interested in Pez dispensers. The pictures and information make it easier to know what you are looking for, so if you are looking to collect Pez I recommend this guide as it will be a big help to you.

Elizabeth Hickey's 'The Painted Kiss' is often compared to Tracy Chevalier's 'Girl With a Pearl Earring' for obvious reasons. Both novels deal with an otherwise shy, lowerclass girl falling in love with a painter. This novel was a great read, and i recommend it to anyone who has an interest in art or a mellow historical romance.

I grabbed this book from the library shelf, just looking for anything to take home before my kids totally lost their minds. It sounded interesting, so I thought it was worth a shot. I was wrong, it was worth far more than just a cursory glance.

A terrific book, compelling and interesting. I can't believe this a debut novel; I am so excited to read more by this author.

This imagined relationship between Gustav Klimt and Emilie Floge does not really engage the reader. Rather than presenting a sensual love story, both characters come across as cold and detached. The "supporting cast" is equally haughty and unsympathetic.

In addition to producing exceptional art, Klimt also produces numerous children by his various "models" yet accepts no responsibility for them, and Emilie seems steeped in doubt about eveything from her feelings for Klimt to her ability to produce fashion designs without his input. (Could they be the Viennese version of Brittany and K-Fed??). If you love Klimt's art, as I do, read about the "real" man and pass on this fictionalized version of his life. It definitely leaves much to be desired. 1 1/2 stars

I read this novel over a year ago, but was inspired to read it again after a visit this summer to the Neue Galerie in NYC, which now houses Klimt's most famous painting of Adele Bloch-Bauer. (Ms Hickey should be pleased to know that her book is perched on a display stand next to the cash register in the Neue Galerie's bookshop.) I found the author's choice of Klimt as a subject a compelling one, and overall I enjoyed this novel very much. The only big question I'd have is about the pacing. Events toward the end get rather rushed along (WW I is here - oh, it's over) whereas toward the beginning scenes feel more drawn out. The author's second novel, The Wayward Muse, suffers less from pacing, so perhaps that's just a debut-novel thing. Both here and in The Wayward Muse, Hickey keeps her prose largely lean and to the point, which serves the subject matter well. It was interesting to stand in front of the painting of Adele Bloch-Bauer, remembering how Hickey had characterized her!

A few reviewers of this book here on amazon have complained about accuracy issues. In my opinion, for a novelist to use artistic license is not a problem as long as it's done in the service of the story, remains faithful to the spirit of the real person/time period, doesn't change clearly observable facts, and doesn't try to deceive the readers into thinking what is made-up really happened or that the fiction-writer has "discovered" some previously hidden "secret" (see: Dan Brown, don't get me started). While not being a Klimt expert myself, I didn't come away thinking Hickey had done him an injustice with her novel. She's certainly straightforward in her author's notes about her intentions and her artistic choices. She looked for 'windows' where she can create her story, which is how it should be.

This novel, written from the point of view of Gustav Klimnt's mistress, provides a vicarious peek into the life of the Viennese bohemians known as the Successionists. The story will be appreciated by those who like fictional takeoffs on the life of famous artists.

I would like to second an earlier reviewer in his praise John McDonough's audio performance of this book via a Recorded Books CD.

Although I know Beethoven's work well, I've never read a biography of him, so I have no frame of reference. All I can say is that I love this one. Problems of emphasis, etc., cited by more knowledgeable reviewers notwithstanding, this is a moving biography, and I just ordered a print copy to review comments he made on some early works I'm not familiar with and to return to certain movements, especially of the string quartets and piano sonatas, that the author analyzes so eloquently.

This book is worth reading just for the author's analysis of the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata, which most of us burnt out on long ago because we've heard it so often in "easy listening" formats. Morris draws one's attention to what made this movement--and still makes it--revolutionary.


This biography strikes just the right balance for a listener who knows just a bit of music theory. I think it would be especially valuable to someone who is just coming to know Beethoven's works--to give him/her a sense of where to go next.

Unlike other books by Mr. Morris, this accurate biography of Beethoven's life is based on fact instead of vivid recreation of fiction. This book is poignant and very descriptive and goes as far as updating facts about Beethoven's life (based on serious and ardouos research), something other scholars had avoided. There are tons of metaphors contrasting Beethoven's compositions with the current literary movement of the time: Sturm und Drang, and this gives the reader a chance to delve in into German-Austrian society of the time and how the subject interacted with it. It is a book both witty and funny, capable of arousing serious doubts among intellectual circles for the author discusses Beethoven's supposed homosexuality and his misathropy without having much evidence for the former. I highly recommend this book simply because it is descriptive, well written and hillarious ( I couldn't stop laughing at the way Mr. Morris suggested how picky and obstinate Beethoven was--all in a witty way). For those who do not have a background in classical music, music theory to be more specific, this book would prove to be challenging--reading Classical Music for Dummies will suffice as an introduction for this splendid piece of research.

Beethoven the Universal Composer is a thoughtful portrait of the man, less the music. The book describes how music truly inhabited Beethoven and impelled him through life, but the focus is on his relationships,generally tempestuous, often manic, at times obsessive. Combined with his tragic deafness, his mercurial personality in these relationships often alienated him from the community of mankind touched so deeply by his music.

I listened to this book unabridged on audio narrated by John McDonough. McDonough is a true star in this performance. His rich sonorous voice captures the magnitude and awesomeness of Beethoven's life force, with a power that rivals the incomparable George Guidall in audio performance. What the audio is missing is Beethoven's music itself, which could have been integrated for greater richness alongside the descriptions of the music.

Edmund Morris' biography of Ludwig van Beethoven, part of the "Eminent Lives" series, is delightful. Edmund Morris has written biographies of Theodore Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan. He also plays piano, studies music, and has been examining Beethoven for decades and decades. The combination works very well here.

The front dust jacket comments place this 200 page volume in perspective. "Edmund Morris, the author of three bestselling presidential biographies and a lifelong devotee of Beethoven, brings the great composer to life as a man of astonishing complexity and overpowering intelligence." This book is well worth looking at, if one wishes an accessible biography of Beethoven coupled with an insightful reading of his music (at least I think that it is insightful).

Morris begins by noting that (Page 2): "Of all the great composers, Beethoven is the most enduring in his appeal to dilettantes and intellectuals alike." Agree or disagree, that is a common view of the composer. Morris points out that Beethoven's early compositions were pretty radical for the day--only to become even more so in his late works (e.g., the Grosse Fugue).

This book covers the personal life of Beethoven, much of it rather tortured. His family life was not especially great. His father in essence exploited him as a "child prodigy," even lying about Ludwig's age to make him seem more incredible as a young artist. We see his pain as deafness sets in and his personal life remains unfulfilled, with his "Heiligenstadt Testament." Then, the "Immortal Beloved" letter of 1812 (Morris, by the way, provides an answer as to who this person was--different from whom I had concluded played this role when I took the question seriously 20 or so years ago). There is also the strained relationship with his brother and his nephew Karl. Was he an ogre with Karl? An inept "father figure"? What?

This is a most literate biography, covering his early years, his interactions with Mozart and Haydn, his development of relationships with nobles who would provide financial support for his work. But what makes it special for me is that Morris appears to know Beethoven's music well, and he folds his musical observations into the text in a way that I find enchanting. He notes how some early notes later became the Third Symphony and how some written comments later became the heart of the 9th Symphony. Those who have seen the movie "Eroica" can appreciate Morris' description of the first rehearsal.

The chapter labeled "Valedictory" lays out Beethoven's last months. The final chapter, "Epilogue," attempts to give some closure the book (how successful I leave to the individual reader). This is a relatively brief biography, but literate, properly critical, and appreciative of Beethoven's contributions to our heritage. I do believe that this would be a welcome volume for someone who wants entrée to Beethoven the person and Beethoven the artist.

I found this book to be a disapointment. How can a biography of Beethoven practically ignore not only the Missa Solemnis but his Ninth Symphony? While there are some interesting business and social stories here, there is actually very little in this book about, well, about Beethoven's music.
In fact, the author seems to mention Beethoven's diareah more times than the Ninth symphony... In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I did not perform an actual count, and I must also admit that I think the Ninth symphony is a great and timeless work of art. So I was certainly hoping for more musical content. Besides, the title of the book is "Beethoven: the Universal Composer" and not "Beethoven: Chronic Bowel Irritation".
In order to say something positive about this book, I was thrilled by the authors description of the unknown student blasting Beethoven out of a dormitory window after a heavy New England snowfall. But in conclusion I would describe this book as superficial at best.

Imagine a situation where you and twelve other people are hiding in a cave from terrorists. However, there is a child crying and revealing the location of the group. If you choose to kill the baby by suffocating him, the group will be saved, but if you choose to not kill him, the group will be discovered and everyone will be killed. What do you do?

This kind of morality question comes to play within the Mark Twain's "Mysterious Stranger". Moral sense, an overall issue within the tale, is debated throughout the novel, with Twain criticizing it as a major human flaw.

Set in the small Austrian village of Eseldorf, the story begins with Theodore, the protagonist of the story and Twain's depiction of mankind, and his friends encountering an angel named Satan. Satan, the representation of Mark Twain's cynical views, performs an array of miracles to entice the kids, while shocks them with his sadistic murder of unruly clay figures that he had brought to life. Later, to display the widespread and universal problem of humanity, Satan takes young Theodore over a course of three trips ranging from France to China to India. As a result, the naïve Theodore begins to doubt himself at the controversial conclusion of the story.

Additionally, all sorts of symbols are scattered throughout the novel. The clay figurines that Satan creates symbolize a microcosmic view of mankind. Time and money both are presented as superficial since neither serves any useful purpose. Furthermore, the stones that the town pellets at an innocent lady represent the natural tendency of humans to conform to the mob mentality. Listed only are a few of the many symbols that Twain assimilates into his story.

The story was incomplete at the point of Mark Twain's untimely death, ultimately leaving a gaping hole to the story. But many scholars have contributed their endings to the novel, trying to seal the tear to the story.

In all, the story is truly an epic, integrating dark romantic and anti-transcendental elements with experiences from his life into the novella. It also presents a completely different fundamental approach to the world, regarding everything as nothing but a mere illusion and criticizing all of humankind for their innate moral flaws.

The Mysterious Stranger published soon after Twain's death was an attempt at making a quick profit by rewriting some incomplete manuscript pages. On the other hand, THIS version -- No. 44 -- was painstakingly pieced together over the course of many years by Twain scholars. The result is a manuscript that is closer in tone and theme to Twain's other later work. I also believe No. 44 to be more fully coherent than the previous version.

I would only recommend this book, if you're willing to a long, short story, but other than that it's not too bad. After all, it does have some really intriguing themes. A few boys are living happy sheltered lives in a remote Austrian village named Eseldorf, and one day, a handsome young man named Satan appears, and does several magical feats. Satan begins to share his ability to foresee the future to inform the group of unfortunate events that will soon befall those they care about. Satan proceeds to inform them of each new tragedy that will befall their friends. The boys beg Satan to intercede, which he does but always from a cynical, technical definition of mercy.
The point of view might be slightly skewed, because it is narrated by one of the boys in a first-person narrative. The story isn't too bad but, its extremely long.

Aside from Twain's primary personae of affability and good-humored nature, a deeper and darker layer of him is exhibited in The Mysterious Stranger, a tale of Satan, masquerading as the angelic young man, Philip Traum (German for 'Dream'), who visits three young, impressionable German boys and instructs them on the meaning of Life and what it is to be Human.

While not really telling a story, rather, Twian is posing age-old questions by giving examples through behaviors, reactions and responses to scenarios that Satan or others purpose and brings it about. The story focuses on one boy, Theodor, who is taken espeically by Satan and given speical attention. Through their verbal discussions, and direct interaction/influence of the townspeople in the small German town in which the boy lives, Satan begins to show, what he believes, is the tale of human fraility and woe. It is nothing but grim horror, cruelty and abject deprevation of happiness, as Theodor begins to realize, though, according to Satan, it is all meaningless and pointless. That it is not he, Satan, that brings destruction upon the people, but man's own ignorance, haughty Moral Sense and the caprcious whims, selfishness and the inner fear within human nature itself. That in the end, Life is but a Dream, and there is nothing but the vast emptiness of existence.

Indeed, many will cringe at the outright questioning of Christian moral values, it is brilliantly written and not tongue in cheek, but said boldly and vividly. Twain does not hold back. Before I read the short bio, I didn't know the lifetime of toil and suffering that Twain had experienced and that, as a result, he lost faith in the meaning of life. Though not raised Christian, but obviously well versed in the tradition, his views in the book directly antagonize Christian pillars of belief. The last chapter will blow you away in its cogency and power, the whole point of the book.

Whatever you believe, this is a necessary book that everyone should read. Instead of hiding behind platitudes, Twain openly questions--and struggles with the answers. It is heartening, depressing, chilling and eye-opening with an ending that says it all. Go on, I dare you to read!

Provocative and subversive, if you've ever had issues with Christian theology, you will certainly be drawn to this novella. At the end of the story, the character Satan manages to sum up, in one paragraph, with biting eloquence, some of the most serious theological problems with Christianity. It is the sort of passage that you read and then immediately bang your head against the wall because it's exactly what you always wanted to say and you wish YOU had been the one to write it down:

"Strange, indeed, that you should not have suspected that your universe and its contents were only dreams, visions, fiction! Strange, because they are so frankly and hysterically insane -- like all dreams: a God who could make good children as easily as bad, yet preferred to make bad ones; who could have made every one of them happy, yet never made a single happy one; who made them prize their bitter life, yet stingily cut it short; who gave his angels eternal happiness unearned, yet required his other children to earn it; who gave his angels painless lives, yet cursed his other children with biting miseries and maladies of mind and body; who mouths justice and invented hell -- mouths mercy and invented hell -- mouths Golden Rules, and forgiveness multiplied by seventy times seven, and invented hell; who mouths morals to other people and has none himself; who frowns upon crimes, yet commits them all; who created man without invitation, then tries to shuffle the responsibility for man's acts upon man, instead of honorably placing it where it belongs, upon himself; and finally, with altogether divine obtuseness, invites this poor, abused slave to worship him!..."

The author has done an outstanding job of writing about the little known siege of Budapest during the Second World War.He goes into great detail about Hungarian,Soviet,German operations during the siege,anti-Arrow Cross activities,atrocities against the civilians etc.A must read for those who are interested in the last six months of WW 2.

The book pays little regard to the wider context of the events it deals with, the absolute idiocy of the German command to dispatch a large share of its remaining resources to the battle for Budapest while the Soviets were ready to take Berlin. The maps are illegible. There is no map showing the wider theater of operations. Some of the horrors are described well. Overall an uneven history.

Frankly, I was conflicted over this work. It sounds like this is the military story of the siege of Budapest, and I expected a full development of the German and Hungarian defense and the Soviet attacks. Instead the author primarily covers the story of Hungary in World War II, its government, factions, people, and how they participated (or not) in the defense of Budapest, and their suffering during and after the siege. That part was excellent -- it was only that I expected something else. Maybe that was my bad, but I'd still like to see a definitive work on the siege of Budapest from a military perspective. I suspect that Ungvary could produce such a definitive work if he so wished.

The Soviet side is presented very weakly, and this was my main reason for giving this work four instead of five stars. Even the German defense is not as well handled as it could have been, and there is a great deal of detail missing. It is almost impossible to make sense out of the fighting and the progression of the ever-shrinking perimeter.

Nonetheless, the book is what it is, and I recommend it since it contains much material rarely found in other works on the Eastern Front of World War II. It definitely adds to the literature of World War II.

I enjoyed this book cover to cover. Refreshingly free of of the snotty professorial moral outrage present in so many English WW2 histories. Not that the author doesn't convey the horror wrought by both Germans and Russians on the Hungarians- he does so in a calm step by step description of this gigantic siege. I have but two nits to pick out- in this book the siege of Stalingrad is said to have lasted 76 days vs. 108 days for the siege of Budapaest but in real life by any measure the siege of Stalingrad lasted 5+ months or around 150 days. I think the author has confused Operation Uranus (which started in late November 1942) with the whole Stalingrad siege (which started in late August 1942). Lastly- in one section the author states that the execution of Jews down by the Danube River was the most overt and largest mass atrocity in Europe since the early stages of Barbarossa but I think Ukranians, Byelorussians, Yugoslavs and even Czechs would beg to differ on that point. All in all though this is an engrossing and beautifully researched piece of history- far superior to recent works about Berlin and Stalingrad...

When I first started reading this book I was put off to some extent by the dry recitation of the villages , then cities and finally streets that fell before the Soviet onslaught. I kept thinking that better, and more regular, maps and street plans would help me "watch" the events taking place. The narative would have benefited tremendously from an introductory description of the city and its key sites - at no stage did I become "acquainted" with Budapest. Accompanying this "dryness" was a description of warfare that just numbs you with the agony of it all (it reminded me in some ways of the stark realism of "Blackhawk Down" - bullets and explosions and bits of flesh flying all over the place)... And then came the Breakout... I was previously unaware of how dramatic the events around Budapest in 1944-45 really were; it's strange how little is actually reported or written! The futility and sheer horror, of lives wasted and blind ideologies followed, ultimately rises to the surface... and leaves you filled with amazement and horror.

To read this book, you'd wonder why psychoanalysis ever had the inordinate success it enjoyed. Though Breger does say at various points that Freud's contributions opened up whole new vistas on human life, and he states that Freud had a compelling personality, that's about all he does--he just says it. Thus this book fails on a fundamental criterion of good writing: It says, but does not show.

The book really isn't a biography, but an over-long monograph. That is, it aims to prove one point: That Freud, unable to deal with his own emotional life, concocted his major theories to protect himself, then created the psychoanalytic movement through harsh, often slanderous, authoritarian strategies, in service to his own emotional needs.

If you buy the idea that early childhood determines adult character and behavior--a view not much in vogue these days--you'll probably judge that Breger makes his point well enough. Even so, he makes the point over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over, and always basically the same way. It gets a bit tedious.

If you don't buy the idea that early childhood determines adult behavior, there's no point in your reading this book at all. Without Breger's highly speculative account of the influence of Freud's childhood on his subsequent life, there's little of interest here. None of Freud's very real, often-disgusting sins discussed here are news.

I have two major complaints, beside the tedium of repetition and the recherche modes of thought:

First, even if Breger's point is accurate, the book offers no sense of the genuinely awe-inspiring intellect that radiates from the pages of most of Freud's work. Even if you find many of Freud's central doctrines utterly bizarre, as I do (and always have--which caused me no end of grief at my training institute), you can't read Freud (unless you come at the work with extreme prejudice) without a humbling sense of the presence of genius. The hundreds of millions of copies of Freud's works don't sell because of Freud's authoritarian control over the buyers!!!! Likewise, to read accounts by many estimable souls of their experience with Freud, you cannot but realize that, for all the deep character faults he suffered, he was a most remarkable, often-generous, human.

Second, Breger decries the penchant of the psychoanalytic community for "debate through diagnosis." But I can't see how this book can escape the same charge. If the book were really a biography, Breger's thesis might be an interesting aspect of the story. But the book does not give a comprehensive or rich picture of Freud's life, history, or personality. This simply is not a biography--it's an argument.

I'm reminded of a point Bertrand Russell made, that one's biography is better served by a brilliant enemy than a second-rate sympathizer. Yeah, Breger's sympathetic, in his own way, and probably a kind-hearted, honest man. But he gives no evidence of much brilliance of his own--and doesn't convey Freud's.

He was the founder and autocratic (some would even say dictatorial) leader of one the most controversial, yet profoundly influential, intellectual movements of 20th century. While his own thought sought to systematically dismantle the prevailing medical orthodoxy of his era, it simultaneously introduced a new and even more rigid orthodoxy. Though he was largely uninterested in politics, he proved himself to be the consummate politician, always carefully calculating the effects his actions would have on his movement, the psychoanalytic movement, as a whole. He zealously recruited the best and brightest minds of the time, only to shackle and ultimately squander much of their individual creativity through an endless series of loyalty tests in which the more sycophantic and unquestioning you were, the higher you rose within the inner-circle. His fateful obstinacy extended even to his own physical well-being, as he continued to smoke his trademark pipe even after much of his lower jaw had rotted off from the cancer that eventually killed him.

Freud is a legend, no doubt. But, as this skillful biography of the man makes clear, his legendary status is marked as much by deep personal flaws as by personal greatness. This is only fitting for the man who invented psychoanalysis. We all have tendencies toward self-mythologization, towards the creation of a narrative which minimizes our weaknesses (either by ignoring them outright or blaming their causes on others) and maximizes our strengths. Indeed such narratives are but the linguistic manifestation of our unconscious defense mechanisms. And consequently much of analysis centers around penetrating the core of this chain of signifiers and discovering the breaks, infinite loops and ideological repetitions within. And while he is no Lacanian (the Frenchman is never even mentioned in this text), Breger's analysis is completely given over to this psycho-linguistic imperative, an imperative which is governed and ultimately enforced by the biographical narrative of Freud himself.

This is because so much of what has been written about Freud's life has been directly influenced by Freud's pathological desire to craft a public persona that fits within his own neurotic view of himself as the great conqueror . And so Breger's destructuring of the typical Freudian biographical narrative is tantamount to a bloody confrontation with the man's well-fortified psycho-linguistic defense mechanisms (Freud himself always spoke of analysis in military terms). Whether we're talking about Freud's own autobiographical hero narratives ("On the History of the Psycho-Analytic Movement", "An Autobiographical Study"), Jones' dutiful doting, or even the more recent version of the same by Peter Gay, the man himself is almost always lost in the excremental haze of pre-digested meaning. Thus Freud's neuroses--his travel phobia, his dislike of music, his prudish attitudes towards sex, his desperate, inverted oedipal desire to slay his adopted male children (Jung, Adler, Rank, Ferenczi)--are rarely given the hermeneutical space necessary to stand in their proper relation to the events of his life. Breger's diegetic approach places the events of Freud's life in their proper socio-historical context, but without simply substituting history for personal responsibility, as is so often the case. Freud's cruelty (towards his fellow analysts, towards his patients) is shown to be a symptom of his neuroses, rather than mere juridical technique. (Freud constantly claimed that utter coldness and neutrality was required in the relationship between analyst and analysand, but he was most successful as a therapist when he befriended his patients and showed them warmth and sympathy.)

As you may have guessed, Breger is a practicing analyst, which obviously brings certain prejudices to his account of Freud's life. But Breger shows a remarkable level of honesty by pointing out this fact himself in a section at the end the book. And though I may quibble with him over his emphasis on the primacy of personal trauma over the primacy of sexuality and the role of larger social institutions in the formation of the individual ego, I still think this is a superb example of that particularly personal form of insight which only the very best of psychoanalysts can achieve.

A fine piece of work.

It has been a long time since I have come across a book title that so aptly summarizes its subject, in this case the father of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud. Louis Breger provides a splendid historical overview of Freud's importance in the development of the healing art of mental health, but it is certainly not an attractive man who emerges from these pages. It is to the author's credit that he makes every effort to explain why Freud does not engender in the public arena the warm regard of the second generation psychoanalysts, many of them orphaned by their autocratic intellectual leader.

Himself a practicing psychoanalyst, Breger traces Freud's Austrian developmental years and his early forays into medicine. Freud was born in 1856; his family was numerous and poor; his mother appeared to do most of the worrying for the family while his unruffled father carved out a precarious existence. Freud's disillusionment with his father and his jealousy for his mother's attention amidst a near constant stream of young rivals--mostly girls--in an environment of little privacy is usually given as the traditional spawning ground of his best known theories regarding the Oedipus Complex and the natural role of women.

Breger, however, examines this childhood more critically. Young Freud suffered several significant losses in his early years--the death of his infant brother Julius, for example, or the firing of his beloved housemaid Monika, who actually served as a surrogate mother for a time when his own mother was afflicted with grief and depression. But most of all, Freud missed his mother, who understandably was emotionally unavailable to him, though as a youth Freud could certainly not understand her predicament. Breger observes that her son could never bring to his consciousness his deep anger at her, and it is the author's contention that this subconscious pain was the fuel for the father-son warfare so central to the Freudian system; in essence a subterfuge for what really ailed him. The masculine oedipal trauma as the source of neurosis was the only explanation Freud would tolerate for nearly all of his 80 years--and it would impair his work and cost him his closest friends in years to come.

And yet, Freud's predicament was hardly unusual in his time. There were many poor children who did not get what they needed from their parents. My only critique of Breger's analysis is his omission of treatment of Freud's driving ambition to "be someone great." The author does note that in his escapes to imagination, Freud throughout his life identified with Hannibal, an interesting military choice for a scientist.
Freud's first medical work was highly technical for the time, neurological research under the gifted Ernst Brucke, but after some years he left organized research to work with the charismatic Jean-Martin Charcotte, "The Napoleon of Neuroses." Charcotte made some respectable progress in the understanding of hysteria, though his cultivated flamboyant style was no doubt an obstacle within scientific circles.

At the very least, Charcotte opened Freud's eyes to the stimulating and monetary possibilities of psychiatry. Now married, Freud opened a private practice in what was called at the time neuropathology. His survival depended in no small part upon the financial and personal support of a more seasoned physician, Josef Breuer. Breuer, it may be recalled, is remembered for his modest but innovative success with his "talking cure" for neurological symptoms. Working together, Freud and Breuer spent a decade refining the treatment of hysteria until Breuer finally refused to endorse Freud's hypothesis that all traumas of loss were ultimately sexual in origin. Freud turned his affections to Wilhelm Fliess and abruptly dismissed the kindly physician Breuer, the first of many men to be taken into Freud's bosom and then discarded for perceived doctrinal [read: personal] disloyalty.

With a thriving practice and a highly developed [albeit skewed] theory of neurosis and personality, Freud became the father figure for young men who shared his passion for psychoanalysis and who generally were in search of father figures themselves. Nearly all of the early practitioners were Jews from Austria and Switzerland; the ethnic identity, coupled with Freud's fondness for military imagery, tended to mold the movement into a kind of defensive zealotry for some years. It was not unusual for colleagues to psychoanalyze each other or interpret each other's dreams. Confidentiality and boundary ethics were poorly defined, creating enormous professional and personal problems for many practitioners and their patients.

Breger observed that for all the talent surrounding Freud, there was little by way of innovation or verification to discern if psychoanalysis was truly effective. Moreover, those who did advance their own personality theories [as did Jung] or therapeutic styles [as did Rank] were excommunicated from Freud's associations and publications with virtual liturgical solemnity. It should come as no surprise, then, that the heretic who may have been most dangerous to Freud was Alfred Adler. Adler, like Breuer, realized that a multitude of traumas could set off neuroses, not merely fatherhood or sexual issues. [Amazingly, Freud learned nothing from soldiers' traumas of World War I.] Adler, whose own interests took him into family dysfunction, came to understand not just Freud's past, but what was worse, how Freud was repeating the sibling rivalry pattern with his present colleagues.

Breger assesses Freud's counseling style from copious notes and correspondences, and concludes that the master frequently disregarded his own rules of objectivity and impersonal pose.