New York Books

Like the mood swings of its central characters, this book took me to giddy highs and pensive lows. Wimmer takes you on a great ride with fellow travelers you come to care about as they search for love and their place in the world.

Dick Wimmer gives us a world and a set of characters vibrant with life and humanity. Seamus Boyne is as endearing as Joyce Cary's Gully Jimson and twice as irrepressible. This book is a sleeper. Why doesn't everybody know about it?
--Doug Ramsey

Wimmer's look at life,love,and laugher is not to be missed.He touches on every aspect of all that life has to offer,and along the way leaves the reader rolling in the aisles.You get so caught up in his unique characters,that you forget about the mad romp this gem of a book takes you on. Drop whatever you're reading now and do yourself a favor, pick up The Irish Wine Trilogy, you will not disappointed. More than any other novelist in recent memory, Wimmer gives us a story that makes us glad to be alive. You will laugh out loud, over, and over, again. Bravo, Mr. Wimmer. You are a treasure.

Irish Wine, by Dick Wimmer, is a stunningly lyrical, achingly funny trilogy that presents some of the brightest, yet most flawed, characters I've encountered. Wimmer portrays the Artist, in various incarnations--the frustrated, the famous, the obsessive, the unrecognized, the paralyzed. These characterizations are poignant, yet completely irreverent. As a result, Wimmer creates an unexpected literary delight: fast-paced poetry that you can't put down.
What an accomplishment!
As an added bonus, no male writer I've ever read, has written better about sex from a woman's point of view, than Wimmer. Bravo!

Dick Wimmer's beautiful, high-energy writing took me on an adventure filled with all of the things that make life delicious: love, joy, passion, risk and lots of laugh out loud humor. I found myself adoring the larger than life painter,Seamus Boyne, from the beginning of the first novel and growing to love him more and more as his passion fueled the craziest of situations. His love for his estranged daughter, Tory, was deeply moving and provided terrific emotional glue for the wonderful zaniness found in the second novel. The third novel was very different, but equally rich and satisfying - a story about moving through fear to claim one's joy. Wimmer's style is completely unexpected and utterly enjoyable. I loved it!

The Indian mutiny of 1857 sees the cantoment of Krishnapur besieged by sepoys. For three months Mr Hopkins (the collector) galvanises the British community in resisting the onslaught...
This book is superbly written and often reminds one of the style of George Elliot. It is both witty and profound and wonderfully researched and charactorized.Like the best of Elliot,Farrell uses his narrative to inform on other topics-the great cholera debate;the Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace- and questions the basis of what culture actually lends to civilisation.
Books like this just don't get written these days.

Paul Scott wrote in his RAJ QUARTET that it was in India during the last days of the Raj that the British came to the end of themselves as they were. In this superb Booker Prize-winning novel written concurrently with the QUARTET (and which casts a similar cold eye towards the British imperial ambitions in India), J. G. Farrell shows how the Raj itself was formed and how it already carried within it in embryo the seeds of the destruction for the entire Empire. The novel takes place in a city in Northeastern India during 1857, the year of the Great Sepoy Rebellion: the British stationed in Krishnapur hear vague rumors of what they will call "The Mutiny" from faraway towns but are mostly unwilling to take them seriously. The ensuing siege they endure carries on for months as they wait for help to relieve them; though slowly forced to an absolute subsistence level--and then to even less--, they refuse to relinquish the habits of social conditioning that have made them already who they are. Social snobbery, physical modesty, gender segregation: all remain firmly ensconced even as their physical conditions start deteriorating so greatly they start dying in large numbers.

The novel's subject would seem to suggest that the novel would make for almost unbearable reading: oddly it does not, because the characters of the novel (who are almost entirely British) maintain such a droll and uncomprehending attitude towards their conditions, no matter how desperate things seem. Thus, since Farrell focalizes his narrative mostly through his thoughts, everything seems unreal throughout the entire siege and not quite so nightmarish as it might have been had he used a more distanced narrator. The work is in part a parody of old-fashioned "Mutiny novels," so you should know that the ending is very much in keeping with those kinds of novels (which proliferated throughout the Empire during the latter half of the nineteenth century); characteristically, however, Farrell puts his own intelligent spin on things, so even if the ending you had been expecting does occur it doesn't in the way you had expected. This is the second, and perhaps most famous, of the three superb works of Farrell's "Empire" trilogy which beautifully illustrates the conditions of Empire described in another nearly coeval work, Jan Morris's famous PAX BRITTANICA trilogy. It's exciting, amusing, intelligent, and greatly worth reading.

This is an excellent novel about the Sepoy Mutiny in India in 1857. The focus of the story is the siege of the British Civil Service enclave at Krishanpur (historically this was the siege of Lucknow). A group of Sepoy soldiers was given new rifle cartridges that were wrapped in greased paper, and the paper was removed by biting it off with one's teeth. The word spread was that this grease was animal grease, which was an insult to religion. The sepoys mutinied, killed their superior British officers, and started marauding across India.

Hearing about the mutiny the (tax) Collector in Krishnapur had ramparts built around the British buildings in Krishnapur. Shortly afterwards the Sepoys attacked in waver after wave for a period of several months. Surprisingly author Farrell describes the sufferings of those besieged with a good deal of humor, humor that pricks holes in the pompous beliefs and attitudes of 19th century British colonizers. We bring them progress, a superior civilization, yet they turn on us marvels the Collector. The condescension doesn't stop with the Indians. At one point the Collector speaks to the British women in the enclave, and silently thinks that in reality women are really useless creatures. It is the men of the world that shoulder the responsibility of getting things done. The padre runs around telling everyone that God is punishing them for their sinful behavior. A new school and an old school doctor constantly disagree over medical treatment. In perhaps the funniest scene of the book the old doctor contracts cholera, and instructs his aides to cover him with mustard plasters. The young doctor, who is aware that cholera victims die from dehydration, initiates a saline IV every time the old doc sinks into a coma. The IV brings him around, and he immediately pulls out the IV and insists on getting his mustard plasters, following which he soon sinks back into a coma. Back goes the IV and the doc becomes conscious again. This cycle goes on and on and becomes hysterically funny.

The British thought they were doing wonderful things for the Indians, but the harsh reality of it is they were creating harsh lives for their colonial subjects. The sepoys, for example, were paid near starvation wages. This is an important novel about the misguided philosophy behind imperialism. Perhaps there is a lesson here for us Americans. Should we really be focused on bringing our way of life to other countries?

"The Siege of Krishnapur', the second of J.G. Farrell's now classic works on the British Empire, (see also Troubles (New York Review Books Classics) and The Singapore Grip (New York Review Books Classics)) is a fictionalized account of the Siege of Lucknow during the Great Mutiny of 1857-1858 (aka the Sepoy Rebellion). The mutiny or rebellion, depending on one's point of view, was ultimately defeated by the British and led to the replacement of East India Company rule by direct British governance under the Raj.

Farrell masterfully recreates the insular British upper-class life in India - and the siege only intensifies this insularity. As the siege drags on and on, the inhabitants strive to maintain expected standards of behavior and decorum. Farrell populates his book with interesting characters who debate and dispute morality, religion, progress, and civilization.

Excellent introductions are a hallmark of the New York Review of Books Classics and the introduction to this volume by Pankaj Mishra places the book in historical and cultural context and adds significant value.

Highest Recommendation.

At the climax of this magnificent novel, the book's protagonist, Hopkins, the British civil administrator or Collector of Krishnapur, finds himself trapped in a Union Jack whose flagstaff has been shot down, knocking him to the ground. He recognizes it as the scenario of a persistent nightmare that had been troubling since his small enclave had been put under siege several months before. But it is also a symbol for the entire book.

The initial set-up here is similar to that of the author's TROUBLES: a group of British colonialists crammed together in a decaying building while the threat of native rebellion comes closer. But this is larger in scope, with a bigger cast of characters, grander themes, and a rebellion which is much more than some background disturbance. Unlike the violence in TROUBLES, which is seen at first hand only in the hallucinatory final chapters of the book, this one (the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857) takes center stage about a third of the way into the novel, leading to harrowing scenes of death, starvation, and disease. On the level of a simple war story, these events (based on the siege of Lucknow) make for a stirring story of heroism and courage -- especially where these qualities are unexpected, is in the formerly stuffy Collector who discovers hidden talents for generalship and strategy, and the young poet George Fleury, fresh out from England, who proves to have a strong practical streak and a remarkably cool head.

Also as in TROUBLES, there is a pervasive eroticism to this book, centering around three of the younger woman besieged in the Residency: the debutante Louise, chaste belle of Calcutta balls; Miriam, George's young widowed sister, tired of being assigned to stereotypical female roles, and Lucy, whom everybody knows as a "dishonored woman" although nobody is entirely clear as to the extent or agency of this dishonor. As the siege persists, the courtship conventions of colonial society are turned on their head by proximity and deprivation. There is one almost surreal scene in which Lucy, attacked by a huge cloud of otherwise harmless flying beetles, rips off her clothes and promptly faints, leaving two young men to scrape the insects off her, in the process discovering the differences between a real female body and a marble statue.

For, despite the bloodshed, Farrell's characteristic tone of comedy is present here too, but now his targets are as much institutional as personal: the hypocracies of colonialism, trivia of class and culture, and Victorian attitudes towards faith and science. As we meet the cast of characters, we find many different points of view: the Padre who believes that the rebellion is God's punishment for sin, the cynical Magistrate who is a confirmed atheist, the Opium Agent who believes only in profit, rival doctors from older and newer schools of thinking, bluff soldiers who do not think much at all but who can yet be excellent at their jobs, the aesthete Fleury whose first reaction to being under fire is to assemble phrases for an epic poem, and the Collector, who believes in progress, but attempts to strike a balance between all points of view. And to a remarkable extent, the author also manages to retain that balance. The siege is a crucible in which every kind of received attitude may be tested, and for the most part found wanting. But Farrell is never preachy or polemical; he does not make everything subservient to a single point of view, even the anti-colonial one. His great gift is to keep you thinking, even as you turn the pages with bated breath. A brilliant achievement!

In spare, poetic and very beautiful dialect, old and grumpy Guernsey misanthrope, Ebenezer Le Page, recounts the story of his life; a tale of disillusionment, loss and remarkable resiliance.

Edwards makes Le Page a Guernseyan "Everyman." Le Page represents an embattled folk community: colonized by the French, occupied by the Germans and finally overrun by English tourists.

Like the butler, Stevens, in *The Remains of the Day,* Le Page has an epiphany that transforms him. But while Stevens' epiphany is of the rather subtle dry sherry variety, Le Page's knocks you flat like a good shot of white lightening, poteen or whatever it is that Guernsey people drink when they want to see God.

*The Book of Ebenezer Le Page* is about a small miracle of the human spirit in the face of war, poverty and souless consumerism.

One of the best books I have read in a long time...The universality of Ebenezer is wonderful. It brings the reader back to another time and place. I highly recommend this book.

What can I add to the almost unanimous chorus of praise and rave reviews? Not much. But this is such an exceptional yet so inexplicably little-known book that I feel obliged to join the chorus.

THE BOOK OF EBENEZER LE PAGE reminds me, as unlikely as this particular combination may sound, of both Thomas Hardy and Mark Twain. Indeed, for a rough approximation of the narrator Ebenezer Le Page and his personality and humor, imagine that Sam Clemens had been born in 1890 on the Channel Island of Guernsey, lived there his entire life, and then nearing 90 set down the story of his life and his world. Although not as cosmopolitan as Sam Clemens, Ebenezer Le Page is every bit as independent a free-thinker, as open-minded, as cantankerous, as wise, and as ruthlessly disdainful of cant, self-righteousness, and those who better themselves at the expense of others. And almost as funny.

For all its greatness, THE BOOK OF EBENEZER LE PAGE is not a page-turner that you are likely to devour in one fell swoop. It took me two weeks to read it. But each time I returned to it, I was eager to do so. It is not unlike an idiosyncratically crusty grandfather telling tales from his life after dinner; as much as one loves to listen to him every evening for an hour or two, one is not prepared to listen to him day in and day out, to the exclusion of everything else.

This novel is sui generis. It also is, in my experience, the greatest novel by a "single-work author." (It far surpasses John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces.") But it should not be regarded solely as some sort of curiosity. It is a great work of literature, and it merits far wider recognition and a far wider readership.

This is a book for good readers only. And for good readers who enter the book at the right time when they are willing to invest the effort to get far enough into the story to care about it. There is much to complain about. It is a first person narrative written by a person who is not always likeable about other people who are not always likeable and who are often two dimensional. It is written in an idiosyncratic style that reflects both the education level and patois of the narrator. The setting is limited, obscure and unfamiliar to most readers. Somehow those very complaints gradually reverse themselves to become the strengths of the book. The author asks a lot from the reader because you have to plow through a lot of words and page after page until you become aware of the reversal. You become very interested in the narrator's life story, the vast cast of characters continues to increase with every page but they seem more human and not so irritating, the writing style becomes familiar and essential to the story as the narrator's personality and a reflection of the richness of the setting. This is a long book full of a long life story and many small stories. The small stories are some of the most memorable, particularly during the time of occupation. Some of the little stores are entertaining, like the two pigs and some are tragic, like the story of the young prisoner. I found myself more caught up in the little stories than in the larger tragedy of Raymond and Horace. My recommendation is to skip the introduction by John Fowles which is long and unnecessary and save your endurance to see if you can get far enough into the book to reach the point where you stop having to work at reading and want to pick it up. It is brilliant, even as it is astounding that a publisher read enough of it to make the decision to publish it.

I keep rereading this book. I've probably read it 20 times, in full and in part, since encountering it 20 years ago. The pageant of characters who march through are so alive I feel like I know them, and the number and variety of experiences the protagonist relates are as rich as life itself, despite the fact that Ebenezer left his home island of Guernsey only once, as a young man, for a short period of time.

However, I have lent or given a copy of this book to at least a half dozen people over the years, and not one of them was able to finish it.

Also, I do suspect that John Fowles wrote the book and perpetrated a grand hoax. I doubt that G. B. Edwards ever existed, at least as the author of this wonderful volume.

I could not put the book down.....fast reading and great stories and lots of humor.....one heck of a story teller....

Marty Appel served in the Bronx Bombers' public-relations office for nearly nine years, and was the PR director during the tumultuous early George Steinbrenner years (from 1974 to 1977). Appel's "Now Pitching For the Yankees" recalls the turmoil of that period -- and Appel's ability to function under pressure --with wit, a keen eye for detail and sensitivity.

None of the long hours Appel spent at the ballpark, the turmoil he witnessed, or the high-pressure tactics of owner Steinbrenner have dimmed his appreciation for his colleagues and bosses. It comes through in the pages of this warm, often touching memoir.

The boldface names are there -- including Steinbrenner, Mickey Mantle, Billy Martin, Joe DiMaggio and Reggie Jackson -- along with less-famous but pivotal Yankee characters like clubhouse man Pete Sheehy, team execs Michael Burke and Gabe Paul, and Appel's mentor in public relations, Bob Fishel. (It even mentions the writers: Appel's anecdote about one scribe's losing battle with bladder control in Boston is priceless.)

Appel also reflects on his vibrant post-Yankees career, including a bittersweet period with the Atlanta Olympics and a still-thriving stint as a baseball author (subjects include early baseball star King Kelly, former Commissioner Bowie Kuhn and former Yankee captain Thurman Munson).

"Now Pitching for the Yankees" is a good find for anyone who loves baseball, cherishes its history and appreciates the people behind the scenes who make it happen.

As a Red Sox fan, I was ready to read this and get whacked in the face with the hubris usually shown by anything Yankee. I was surprised by the balance shown. Marty Appel knows more about baseball than a lot of people running the game now. He was born about 30 years too late as people like Epsteil, Beane and Riccardi get to run ballclubs, while Mr. Appel 30 years ago had to come up through the ranks with Steinbrenner's Yankees no less. Mr. Appel also wrote an excellent biography on one of the first superstarts of baseball back in the 1800's--King Kelly. I recommend both books highly.

Only if you really know your New York sports would you realize that Marty Appel's in a much more unique position to write a tell-all book about the 1970s Yankees than many other athletes. During his progression over 10 years from Yankees' fan-mail gopher during the Horace Clarke years, to PR director during the 1976 World Series, Appel had once-in-a-lifetime encounters (with the likes of Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Mike Burke, Gabe Paul, George Steinbrenner and ... Oscar Gamble) every single day.

"Now Pitching...", finally out in paperback, shows Appel's origins as a Yankees fan when everyone else was rooting for the Brooklyn Dodgers, and how he turned his love for the game into a career (when everyone else was watching the NFL). Most of the book covers the Yankees from 1968 to 1976, Appel's reign. Although many of the stories are familiar to baseball readers from what seems like 100 other books, only Appel is giving you the inside view. Nowhere else will you get such insider detail about Oscar Gamble's infamous haircut, Sparky Lyle's theme music, or George Steinbrenner's management style.

The book flags a little -- only a little -- when Appel leaves the Yankees and makes his mark in other ventures, such as team tennis and local NYC broadcasting. The most interesting part focusses on Appel's brief fish-out-of-water turn with the 1996 Atlanta Olympics organizers.

Marty Appel's been a very lucky guy -- who else gets to be friends with both Mickey Mantle and Billie Jean King? "Now Pitching for the Yankees" is several cuts above your standard baseball autobiography.

Posted 5:49 p.m., December 12, 2001 - Bruce M.
If I may add another book to the list. The best baseball book that I've read this calendar year is Marty Appel's Now Pitching for the Yankees. Marty worked in the Yankees' public relations department from 1968 to 1977, and shares loads of funny and insightful stories about the CBS Yankees and the Yankees of the Steinbrenner Era. The book is well-written, flows smoothly, and strikes me as honest without "hatcheting" people in and around baseball. I'd recommend the book to both Yankee and non-Yankee fans.

A book that covers the nooks and crannies of lower Manhattan. Oddball characters are brought to full
bloom under the author's pen. He knew how to listen! Towards the back some great essays on
growing up along the Carolina coast.

Up in the Old Hotel is a masterpiece. I've read it so many times (it is my ultimate desert island book) and have yet to tire of it. The essays (and the few short stories that are included) are timeless, generous works of genius. Joseph Mitchell captures his odd and wonderful subjects as richly realized individuals, and appreciates the smallest of beautiful, dark and humorous nuances. His vision is presented so humbly and offhandedly, yet with absolute precision and so much respect. You truly feel a part of the experience. I'm not sure there is anyone who could write better. All of the essays are amazing, but my favorites are Mr. Hunter's Grave, The Old House at Home, Mazie, and Up in the Old Hotel. The short stories in Section II of the first book are heart wrenching. This book also makes a really great gift.

Are you going to visit "the City"? Have you been to NYC (and loved it)? Up in the Old Hotel was written before most of us were born but still delivers the savory secrets of this great metropolis. Characters abound who could only exist in NY. Meet them before you go. And be sure to eat a slice of Ray's pizza on Sixth Ave. and 11th Street!

This writing puts you right into a time and a place and makes it real.. This is one of the most charming collection of writings I have read so far.. Joseph mitchell's characters of New york are so endearing.. From irish saloon keepers to gypsys to stubborn old men who swear by their diet.. this is great story-telling.. this is the legend of new york..the legends of the real people and eccentrics who inhabit its streets..

Whenever I can't think of something to read, I pick up Up in the Old Hotel and read a story or two out of it. I've probably read it 4-5 times and never get tired of it. It captures a lost era of American life that is what I think of when I imagine America in its finest light. Reminiscent of Tortilla Flats and other Steinbeck and even On the Road in a way - a gentler time in our history.

Thought it would have more written by Frank McCourt. Even though, I still appreciate great photographs, especially having to do with 9/11.

Simple and to the point, yet poingint and touching, this book shows like no other how the world's greatest fire department dealt with the aftermath of tragedy.

Outstanding It shows the amazing grief and resolve of New York and its firefighters. It is is visual history of the Sept.11 attacks and their aftermath

I was moved to tears reading this, not only having witnessed the 9-11 atrocities firsthand but as a widow I know the pain suffered by the widows of those brave firemen that perished that day. This book is a must-read along with the others that are listed. I cannot say enough about it, God Bless Those Brave men.

As you are reading though the tribute to the fallen, you see thenamesof each of the lost Firefighters scrolled across the bottom of the pages. Each page left me more and more with a sense of loss. I did not lose anyone that fateful day, yet, we all lost. The words you read are quite moving, the pictures mean more than the words and poems. Yet i am most moved by the names of those precious and brave firefighters name across the pages from the front cover to the back cover.

I am a big P.G. Wodehouse fan. This series of books is especially fun as each book is easily read and enjoyed. The print size is perfect. Great nighttime reading to relieve the stresses of the modern world.

What can I say that hasn't already been said about the inimitable P.G. Wodehouse???

Carry On, Jeeves is a great starter book for those who are intimidated with the amount of J&W books available (or rather, don't know where to begin). The first story in this book is about the first day Bertie Wooster met his personal gentleman (or valet, if you prefer), Jeeves. The stories easily stand on their own; with the exception of characters being mentioned or being part of the plot, the book is not a novel you have to read front to back. Consider it a literary sitcom, where new scenarios and conflicts arise with each story you read.

My favourite bit about reading Carry On, Jeeves was the last story of the book, where it takes a refreshing twist and is narrated by Mr. Jeeves rather than Bertie Wooster. It was great reading from Jeeves's perspective.

Lots of chuckles throughout and a few hardy laughs. Overall a perfect read.

This volume of ten stories originally hails from 1925. I read them in the 1999- 2000 Penguin paperback edition. While many readers like the covers by Ionicus on earlier Penguin paperbacks, these recent editions with covers by David Hitch are my favorites. They are very well done, reasonably priced and just the right size, which is to say, perfect for the novice or seasoned Wodehouse reader. The stories are also among the absolute tops in the Wooster/ Jeeves canon, and give the back stories that Bertie meditatively refers to in so many of the later books.

As Richard Usborne notes in his invaluable guide, Plum Sauce, five of these stories appeared earlier in My Man Jeeves (1919). Two of the stories there told by Reggie Pepper are here transformed into Bertie's ruminations. Carry On Jeeves was the next collection following the ten stories in The Inimitable Jeeves (1923), and Wodehouse was on a roll. Here's Bertie's first engagement to Florence Craye, and his first encounter with her younger brother, Edwin, the Boy Scout, who rapidly renders unsafe house and home. Enter Biffy and Bingo Little, later fixtures in the Wooster ouvre. Here also Bertie pens his oft- mentioned "piece" for his "good aunt" Dahlia Travers, and her struggling paper, Milady's Boudoir. The last story in this collection is somewhat questionably narrated by Jeeves, but Wodehouse fortunately reverted to telling tales in first person Bertie in the later shorts. Some of these tales also found their way into the Jeeves and Wooster TV shows with even more riotous results. All in all, a capital collection.

I had never got around to reading any P.G. Wodehouse until I read this volume, and now I regret the delay.

My first exposure to Wodehouse, at least the first I can remember, was the great Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie (better known from "Black Adder" and "House") TV series "Jeeves and Wooster". That series, plus a few artsy articles on Wodehouse (for example this one by Christopher Hitchens [...] ), turned my Wodehouse radar on.

Even though the world of butlers and aristocratic drones in the 1920s may as well be life of the Siberian Steppes to us web connected suburbanites, the human comedy never really changes. It was the Jeeves and Wooster stories, not "Seinfeld", that was the original "show about nothing."

Every story starts from a minor mishap that turns into major mayhem, requiring the sagacious Jeeves to slide in and rescue his well meaning but social accident prone patron from the self induced quagmire.

This is humour that is sympathetic to all the parties involved. As such it is a pleasant change from the rude brood of "cruder than thou" comedies that has dominated mainstream TV / movie comedy from both England and America for most of the last dozen years. My guess is that generation of young media consumers has grown up that know no humour other than the stick it someone else variety. Not to say there is anything wrong with that, it's just the monotony of it all that I am tired of.

Bring back Wodehouse!

Carry On, Jeeves is another classic from P.G. Wodehouse. It follows in the same kind of humorous hiliarious vein of his other books that involve Berty Wooster and his Man Servant Jeeves. This is a book that should not be missed. In fact,
all of P.G. Wodehouse's books involving Jeeves and Berty Wooster
should be thoroughly enjoyed by every one.

I hated to get to the last page of this book because I had become so very fond of the author. Some people might not like him. Some might say he seemed at times arrogant or haughty. He might have laughed at the accusation and even agreed as he did not consider himself to be charming. But most of us are charmed, none the less. I am an animal lover, but I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys making the acquantances of strong characters who are a just little bit different. And what would he say of us? Likely that all of his reviewers are normal, but some are more normal than others. Myself included.

I wish my cats had such a wonderful vet.

Kind of like an "All Creatures Great and Small" about cats in the city.

This collection of wonderful true stories written by a New York City Vet specializing in cats tells of his heartwarming and entertaining experiences with his patients and their owners.

If you love cats, you will love this book.

With a bit of pathos mixed in (the Missing Cat)

I would have LOVED to make those rounds with him!!

Dr Camuti was a doctor with a caring Heart and Soul and had a special bond with those animals he loved and cared for.

A wonderful book!!

I had heard about Louis J. Camuti through my membership in the Cornell Feline Health Center. This story about Dr. Camuti's experiences as a NYC vet providing house calls for his feline patients is thoroughly engaging. The stories have a timeless appeal to those of us who are 'owned' by our cats.

A vet who specializes in house calls for cats from the 1940's through the 80's writes in a witting and engaging way, telling charming stories about the cats (and people) he treated over the years. A pleasant read.

First, Jonathan Eig is a tremendous writer! He does have a tendency to detour along tangential lines, but that adds to the richness and backdrop of the drama that was experienced by Jackie Robinson. Eig transforms history into humanity with cameo appearances by icons such as Babe Ruth, Malcolm X, and Sidney Poitier. I felt the sense of pride that African Americans of mid 20th century America must have felt. It bolstered the idea of "Only in America". This was a civil rights story before Till, Brown v. Board.., Parks, and King. I hurt with Oscar Charleston, Josh Gibson, and a litany of other Negro Leagues stars born "out of season". I smelled the hot dogs of Ebbets Field. I met and loved Branch Rickey. I watched Pee Wee Reese, Eddie Stanky, and Dixie Walker and many others mature. I adored Jackie Robinson for his talent and demeanor. All courtesy of Jonathan Eig, who BROUGHT IT!

A complex, nuanced portrait of Jackie Robinson, told with stunning detail and insight into the first black man to play major league baseball in the 20th century. As an historical account, this book goes beyond myth and revisionist morality to create what feels like a genuine account of a complicated man in a complicated place. As a baseball book, it is wonderfully expansive on an important era with lots of legendary players. As a literary work, it is a top-notch narrative told in an elegant, rhythmic cadence. It also gets high marks for journalistic technique and style. If all writers of sport possessed Jon's rare combination of gifts, the genre would be a lot richer.

This is the second book that I have read from author Jonathan Eig. The first, Luckiest Man: The Life and Death of Lou Gehrig, was such a great retelling of the life of the Iron Horse, that my expectations when picking up Opening Day: The Story of Jackie Robinson's First Season were quite high.

Opening Day is the story of Jackie Robinson's first year in the majors, and the challenges he faced when he became the first black American to play Major League Baseball. Any true fan of baseball knows the story of Jackie Robinson, his importance to the game and the lasting impact he has had on the United States. But, Eig manages to provide a fresh look at this historical year, focusing not only on the challenges and bigotry that haunted Robinson, but also on the lives that he touched in 1947 and for years to come.

One of the more intriguing stories from the book was that of Jackie's teammate Dixie Walker. When Robinson's Dodger teammates were informed that he was coming up from the Montreal Royals to play with the team, Walker wrote the team's general manager, Branch Rickey, asking for a trade. There were also rumors that he led an effort by the Dodger players to get Jackie off the team. Dixie always denied the accusation, but nonetheless, he was basically a self-proclaimed bigot - worried about what his family and friends in Alabama would do if he played alongside a black man.

Like authors before him, Eig could have easily cast Dixie as the villain of the story. But instead, he details how playing with Jackie helped Walker evolve into a better man. Within time, Walker started to respect Jackie for his toughness and determination. He started giving Jackie pointers on how to improve his game, and later in 1947, he stood up for him (along with all of Jackie's other teammates) when opposing teams would hurl racial epithets at Jackie. Robinson made Walker start to question his views on minorities and Walker came to realize what he learned about blacks while he was growing up was wrong. After that, Walker played with, coached and managed black players throughout the rest of his career, and later said Jackie was "as outstanding an athlete as I ever saw."

This is just one example of the impact that Jackie had on the lives of others. Stories are sprinkled throughout the book about the significant impression he left on his teammates, other players in the league, broadcasters, league executives - and most importantly, the next generation of black Americans who would continue the struggle for equality in America.

Opening Day, definitely lived up to my expectations and surpassed them, and I highly recommend it for any fan of baseball and/or American history - and to anyone who is interested in understanding the important role Jackie Robinson played in the evolution of the United States.

Jonathan Eig is developing an expertise at rehabilitating hackneyed young-adult biography heroes. First with Luckiest Man: The Life and Death of Lou Gehrig and now with "Opening Day", Eig takes a baseball player whose legend has become tarnished by excessive praise, and retells the story from its original context, restoring a sense of wonder.

The story of Jackie Robinson has with time become a story about the heroism of Jackie's white teammates. History now tells us that they bravely accepted and embraced him, over society's disapproval at the ending of baseball's color line. At least, that's how Eig first approaches and then rewrites the tale. In "Opening Day", the spotlight rightly shifts back to onto Jackie himself, as well as to his wife Rachel, the rock at the center of his life. We hear from Jackie himself via contemporary interviews and from his assigned beat-writer from the black press.

The discussion of Jackie's acceptance among his teammates is limited to how they did not in fact accept Jackie as one of them: Eig fails to uncover any evidence that the rest of the Dodgers tried to socialize with or befriend Jackie in any meaningful way once they stepped off the field.

Branch Rickey, who gets rightful credit as the man who integrated baseball, is also shown as the shrewd businessman he is, in both the good and bad sense. Rickey was the executive who refused to trade one of Jackie's most vocal teammate critics, realizing that his pennant hopes resided in that man's bat. He further refused to give Jackie a significant raise for 1948 even though Jackie's presence generated value in publicity and gate that far exceeded his meager rookie paycheck.

Most compellingly, Eig retells the story of the 1947 season month by month, primarily through contemporaneous newspaper accounts. We see the variable way Jackie was treated by the press, and whose agenda affected which stories. A national publication tried to anoint Spider Jorgensen, a strictly league-average third baseman, as the league's top rookie, in a veiled slap at Jackie's aggressive Negro League style of play. We also learn things not commonly told: we know, for example, that Larry Doby was the second black baseball player in 1947, but Eig goes further and tells us who came third and fourth (a cynical move by the St. Louis Browns), and which white owners opposed integration in the disingenuous name of preserving the Negro Leagues.

"Opening Day" could stand to go farther and tell a bigger story. Jackie's post-1947 career and personal life is shunted into a brief epilogue that hints at a possible second book of equal depth. Of course, the space within "Opening Day" is well used: the three chapters devoted to the 1947 World Series are well researched and lively told. Even in a book about Jackie Robinson, the other unlikely heroes and goats of that series (Bill Bevens, Cookie Lavagetto, Al Gionfriddo) still deserve their space.

Eig's extensive research and thoughtful treatment of Jackie Robinson does not vary or question the general truth of his legend: Robinson played the game well under tremendous pressure with little or no support and demonstrated in the process the skill and courage that entitled blacks to equal opportunity. But Eig does add some new perspectives that make the legend far more interesting.

First is the general unpleasantness of Robinson. He's like Pete Rose in his burning desire to win at all costs and would rub some people the wrong way regardless of his color.

Second and perhaps most important is Eig's ability to introduce more subtlety into the story. Eig destroys the legend of Pee Wee Reese publicly encouraging Robinson on the field in the face of racial abuse. That did not happen, at least not in 1947. Robinson is utterly alone in 1947 and has to prove himself to his teammates. Branca is the only guy to make a point of shaking his hand when he first appears, which adds to Branca's own legend as a man of character, but even Branca essentially ignores him for much of the season. Some of this is racial, of course. But some of it is the culture of baseball: a rookie must prove himself.

Robinson's ability to peform in these circumstances, under the most tremendous pressure possible, adds to his legend and makes his 1947 season perhaps the most admirable of all seasons. Eig is also good at introducing subtlety into the legends surrounding Robinson's oppressors. There is some rumbling on the team, but that quickly dissipates. Most interesting is the role of star player Dixie Walker. Walker felt compelled by his southern roots, and by his desire not to have his business punished in the south, to make a point of objecting and asking for a trade. But thereafter, he drops the protest. The problem for Robinson was not simply the obvious bigotry, but his freeze-out by the rest of his team until he could prove himself under the most trying of circumstances. Walker may have given Robinson a few batting tips and may have dropped his trade demands, but neither he nor anyone else took Robinson under his wing. Even in baseball's demanding culture of ritualized abuse of rookies, a rookie will eventually be taken under someone's wing. Robinson did not have that benefit.

The protests of other teams has also been exaggerated. It appears that there were some murmuring on the Cardinals to try to boycott Dodger games, but that fizzled before it started. The Phillies were grossly racist in their bench jockeying, but backed off early in the season. The Yankees in the 1947 World Series had a few nasty bench jockeys.

What emerges from all this is the pain of the gross racism aggravated by the agonizing loneliness of Robinson as he has to endure everything and prove himself. Eig convincingly shows that by the end of 1947, Robinson succeeded in proving himself and was the MVP of this team. Only then was he accepted by Pee Wee Reese, the team's captain.

All of which demonstrates Branch Rickey's wisdom in choosing Robinson as the man to break the color barrier. Robinson had mental toughness and competitive fire. The rap on black athletes was that they were not mentally tough, and Robinson was exactly the right guy to disprove that myth. Choosing a more passive personality would not have made the point, and choosing a less disciplined soul who would have got into physical fights in 1947 would not have worked either. But it is interesting to learn how Robinson sometimes crossed the line (such as spiking Rizzuto in the 1947 Series) and how close Robinson came to losing it.

Robinson emerges as a complex and truly great man in this narrative. This is an excellent book that I highly recommend.

The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright was first published in 1941, and though it was written many years ago, is as delightful now as it was then. It's a story about a family who loves each other, works hard and strives to do the right thing. How refreshing!

Mona (13), Rush (12), Miranda (10 ½), who is known as Randy, and Oliver (6) live in New Your City in a brownstone that is rather shabby, but has many floors and fits their lifestyle perfectly. The Melendy children's mother died, but their father and Cuffy, the beloved housekeeper, provide the love, attention and care the children need.

Each of the children has dreams and desires for their futures. Their interests are varied and they each are independent and inquisitive about life and their surroundings.

But while the Melendy children find life generally interesting, Saturdays can sometimes be just plain boring. The children form a club they call the Independent Saturday Afternoon Adventure Club (I.S.A.A.C.). All of the children agree to pool their allowances and each child takes a Saturday with all the money to do something by themselves that they really want to do.

The Saturdays are exciting, not just because of the activities they choose, but because of the people they meet and the stories they hear. Well, Oliver does make one Saturday particularly memorable, but you'll have to read the book to learn about his adventure.

In the day of the novels that glamorize the worst society has to offer, The Saturdays is delightfully refreshing.

Armchair Interviews says: Read the series and enjoy!

This book is different in a good way. It is about 4 children who decide to put there allowences to a good use. Every Saturday the add up there allowence and one of the children gets to do any thing that they will always remember.
By,
Girl With A Plan

I had doubts for this book because it didn't sound very interesting but my Mom wanted me to read it so I did-I loved it. It's original and imaginative and above all easy to read for hours without getting bored. It's original and fun like the story of Mrs. Olifount being kidnapped by jypsies, or Isaac the dog saving the family from suffocating. It's a wonderful book I can't wait to read the sequils.

When I was nine years old I picked up a copy of Elizabeth Enright's "The Melendy Family" on sale for 25 cents at my school Christmas fair, donated by some eighth-grader who evidently felt she had "outgrown" it. I wonder, does anybody ever outgrow the Melendys? "The Melendy Family" was a three-in-one volume comprising "The Saturdays", "The Four Story Mistake", and "Then There were Five". Alas, "The Melendy Family" is no longer in print, but fifty years later, I still have my copy, read to shreds, patched and repatched with scotch tape, a book to be treasured forever and never thrown away. Fortunately, the books making up "The Melendy Family" have been reissued as individual volumes available to enchant yet another generation of young readers.

"The Saturdays", the first volume in the series, introduces us to the four Melendy children: Mona, age 13, Rush, age 12, Randy, who is ten-and-a-half, and Oliver, age 6. Each is given a distinct personality and Enright modeled them on children she had known in her own life, her own children or childhood friends. The result is four fictional characters so totally believable that for years after the books were published, Enright continued to get letters from readers wondering if the Melendys were "real".

The Melendy children's mother is deceased, but they are raised by a devoted, caring father and Cuffy, their beloved housekeeper, who stands in as nurse, cook, substitute mother, grandmother, and aunt, and generally rules the roost. The children are funny, refreshing and unspoiled. Mona has aspirations of being a famous actress and already at thirteen can recite "yards and yards of Shakespeare at the drop of a hat." Rush is the next to the oldest, a musical prodigy with a penchant for getting into and out of trouble. Randy at ten-and-a-half (the half is very important at that age) is an endearing mixture of grace and klutziness, a talented dancer and artist who keeps falling over her own feet when it comes to manual labor. And six-year-old Oliver is the baby of the family, placid and calm, very much his own person, as his story shows.

The story opens on a rainy Saturday which finds Randy and Rush monumentally bored with nothing to do. Randy wants to see a some French paintings. Rush wants to go to the opera. Mona wants to see a play. But in the early 1940s (the approximate time in which the story is set is revealed in the opening pages when Enright tells us that the long scars on the linoleum floor were made by Rush trying out a pair of ice skates on Christmas afternoon, 1939), fifty cents a week allowance was standard, and there wasn't a whole lot you could do with that. Randy has a brainstorm. Let's start a club, she says, and pool our allowances together each week so one of us can spend them on something we've always wanted to do. This idea is adopted enthusiastically by all the children (Oliver wants to contribute his ten cents, too), and thus the Independent Saturday Afternoon Adventure Club (ISAAC) is born.

Each following chapter describes an adventure that takes place on each child's Saturday. Randy goes to see an exhibition of French paintings, runs into an old family acquaintance, Mrs. Oliphant, and is treated to tea at the Plaza while she hears a delightful story of the time Mrs. Oliphant was kidnapped by gypsies during her childhood.

Rush goes to the opera, walks home in a snowstorm, and finds a lost puppy that becomes the family's devoted friend and companion from that day on.

Mona, tired of her long braids, goes to a beauty parlor and treats herself to a haircut and a manicure. The resulting uproar by her father and Cuffy seems a trifle overdone, but as Father later admits, it's hard for parents to realize that their children are growing up.

And Oliver, keeping his own counsel, sneaks out of the house when his Saturday comes and goes to the circus all by himself. An even greater adventure occurs when he is given a ride back home by a mounted policeman on a horse, after he gets lost leaving Madison Square Garden.

After Oliver's adventure the kids decide to spend their Saturdays as a group, but that doesn't stop them from having mishaps such as Randy falling overboard from a boat in Central Park, the family almost suffocating from coal gas when Rush forgets to shut the furnace door, and the storeroom catching fire. It all comes to an exciting conclusion when Mrs. Oliphant invites the children to spend the summer in her lighthouse in Long Island.

"The Saturdays" takes us back to a simpler time and to adventures that probably couldn't happen today (no parent in his right mind would allow a ten year old to go to a museum alone in the New York City nowadays), but kids are still kids, and the Melendys seem so real they could be anyone we knew when we were children, or wish we had known. The time frame may help children understand what a dollar could purchase back then (a wash, set and manicure, or admission to a museum with change to spare). The whole series is a gem for every child and every generation. I still marvel at the priceless find I picked up off a bookshelf at random fifty years ago for only twenty-five cents. It's paid me back a zillion-fold ever since.

Judy Lind

I wanted to respond to the reviews below that thought it was either implausible or dated for children aged 10-13 to wander around New York by themselves. I grew up in New York (in Manhattan, across the park from the Melendys) in the late 1980s. I turned 13, just Mona's age, in 1990. I started walking home from school alone in fourth grade (when I was nine, a year younger than Randy). Like Mr. Melendy and Cuffy, my parents' major worry was that I was careful crossing the street. (Reasonably enough, they feared that drivers would not be able to see a small child.) Many of my friends from elementary school walked or took the bus to school alone at the same age. By twelve (Rush's age), I was allowed to take the subway to visit friends from junior high school, and they took the subway to visit me. By fourteen our teachers assumed that we were competent to find the Metropolitan Museum of Art on our own for projects. None of these people were neglectful, and none of them were "horrified" at the idea of pre-adolescents wandering around the city alone. This was in the supposed "bad old days" when crime was theoretically much higher than it is now, and none of us ever suffered any accident. (Although a group of friends and I got lost coming back from the theater in eighth grade, and were pretty embarrassed that we looked like tourists.)

Anyone familiar with the geography of New York City knows that the Melendy children stay within a fairly small geographic area in THE SATURDAYS, and that the areas where most of their adventures take place are some of the richest and safest in the city. Most sensible New York parents would allow their children to wander there on Saturday afternoons with no more concern than the appropriate ones that Mr. Melendy shows. (Be careful of traffic, don't talk to strangers, and don't get lost.)

Ironically, this ties in with the review that says that Enright did not take enough "risks" with the book, by having her characters get kidnapped by gypsies or run away from home. The fact is, she wrote a fairly realistic description of the childhood of the middle and upper-middle classes of New York City....kids who come into CONTACT with a relatively diverse group of people who have had a variety of experiences, but who actually live in a fairly safe, and sheltered world.

As a New York City kid, I was thrilled to read a book that reflected MY real life experience, as opposed to yet another story about kids who lived in houses with back yards and rode a school bus, and generally had no relationship to my real life. I still love THE SATURDAYS for its loving description of a New York that has in some ways remained startingly the same, even though parts of it have disappeared (no more two way traffic on Fifth Avenue, and no double decker buses!). As other reviews have said, The Saturdays is a charming, well-written book for kids, that can also be enjoyed by adults. It's also one of the few accurate and positive stories about growing up in a great city. I would recommend it for all ages.