Independent Books

In the world of children's biographies, there are gaps where you wouldn't expect gaps, and bios where you would certainly not expect bios. At the library in which I work we sport a particularly nice collection of photographer's lives. Your kid wants to do a piece on Margaret Bourke-White? We've five on her alone (not including the collections of "women photographers" she appears in). How about Dorothea Lange? Yep, we've four. So when I saw this new bright n' shiny book on Berenice Abbott I became curious. Just how many children's biographies of Berenice Abbott are there in the entire New York Public Library system? Five? Three? Not even. We have one single book for children that mentions Berenice, and even then the title is, "Focus On America: Profiles of Nine Photographers". I dare say that up until this moment in time, there has not been a single bio of Ms. Abbott worthy of children's consumption. Now all that has changed. Author George Sullivan, best known perhaps for his architectural tribute, "Built To Last", has written a serviceable biography of a woman who was arguably the best photographer of New York to date.

Born in Springfield, Ohio on July 17, 1898, the story of Abbot begins with an unhappy childhood. She was the youngest of four children and a witness to her mother's multiple divorces. She attended Ohio State University for a little while, but the siren call of New York City called her away her Sophomore year and she never went back. There she lived the very essence of the Bohemian Greenwich Village life before finally high-tailing it to France to learn sculpture. While in Paris she became a photography assistant to Man Ray and began to take portraits of some of the greats. Having established herself she came BACK to America in 1929. Though she had to handle a great deal of disappointment, trials, and problems, eventually Berenice was able to photograph New York City in the way she wanted, become a premier creator of scientific photographs, and be recognized for her achievements in the end.

Things I didn't know about Berenice Abbott before I read this book: Here name is pronounced Bear-Uh-Niece. Not Bernice. She also was a prickly personality and, for unknown reasons, never turned to documentary photography like her fellow female photographers. Though she did everything from portraits to the illustration of scientific principles, she really was, in some ways, the first architectural photographer. I had never before quite understood that what Berenice liked were photographs that told the truth. Tricks with the lens and in the darkroom disgusted her. Sullivan does very well with this information. He even goes so far as to speculate how she would have felt about digital photography today (a valid question indeed). Sullivan does a brilliant job at showing both Berenice the photographic pioneer and Berenice the difficult-to-get-along-with personality. At one point she gave a speech at the Aspen Institute of humanistic Studies in Colorado in which she lambasted her old rival Alfred Stieglitz for no particular reason. But what makes Sullivan a rather good biographer is that he can show just how great Abbott's work was while also showing her cantankerous nature.

Sullivan does not dwell on Berenice's sexuality much, but he does mention the women she had relationships with and the fact that she was not much taken with men. Of course, in the case of Berenice's longtime companion Elizabeth McCausland, it's pretty clear that they were together in spite of Sullivan's vague phrases that state that they, "formed a relationship that was to last for thirty years". Still, credit Sullivan with even acknowledging McCausland at all. Many a children's biographer would probably shy away from such hot topic material in favor of a dry dull text. Some kids may understand what this "relationship" was. Others will definitely not.

If your kids happen to be particularly taken with Abbott's work (big "if" there), definitely consider showing them Douglas Levere's particularly accomplished, "New York Changing: Berenice Abbott's New York" for a bit of latter day compare and contrast. "New York Changing" takes Abbott's original photographs. Then photographer Douglas Levere set up the exact same came at the exact same location at the same date and time as Abbott did. The result is a stunning series of photographs that show just how New York has come and gone over the years. As biographies go, "Berenice Abbott" does sometimes grow a little dull, but overall it's a good look at a too-little lauded figure in the realm of photography. Well worth a read and a faithful tribute.

I really enjoyed Nolan's work here and think that any fan of Joy Division and New Order will find something new and interesting here. At times, it seems that `Barney' Sumner is more of a backdrop to the music scene that Nolan describes, but he does an excellent job of capturing this period and the evolution of the band and the people around them. I really appreciated the comments in-line by Barnard himself as they add to the creditability of the story and events.

If I had a complaint, it is the lack of insight or narrative on the creation and development of the music and songs themselves. Often a reference to an album release will show up without any notion of the work having been in development. What's missing is some comment or insight on the motivation, challenges or meaning behind the music Bernard creates along with the rest his `mates' or how they went about it. Instead we're left with descriptions made by the music press at the time and little more.

Still, Nolan has made solid effort here not to be missed. I can only hope that New Order will once again grow tired of being apart from each other (...give it a few years) and we can all once again enjoy their collective genius.

It is the nature of directories to go out of date; indeed, many directories of all sorts are out of date even as they roll off the presses, given the mobility of people in the modern world. However, there are fewer more mobile and metamorphing groups than that population of people who fall under the categorisation of bishop in Old Catholic, Independent Catholic, Liberal Catholic, Independent Anglican, Independent Orthodox and other such labels. Few things bind them together; indeed, many regularly disavow and even excommunicate each other. One thing that does seem important to most, if not all, is the apostolic succession and historic episcopacy (however, even these terms are subject to question and interpretation among the many groups).

Prior to the advent of the internet, such directories as this one by Bain were very hard to compile, and notoriously difficult to find. Published infrequently and having to rely only upon the voluntary efforts of a few dedicated compilers, the 240-pages of entries here cover bishops past and present throughout the world, but largely focusses upon North American and European settings. Entries for bishops can be as short as a sentence fragment indicating no information or another cross-reference, or can span up to two pages, showing a progression of churches and affiliations (another fairly common trait among these individuals is a tendency to either switch jurisdictions and groups, or to re-invent themselves anew every so often).

The book includes a reprint (with permission) from the book 'Episcopi Vagantes', by the late Fr. Brandreth; that text is largely a slap at the whole 'wandering bishop' phenomenon, written to reinforce established institutional sentiments that there can be little good coming from such independent figures (and, unfortunately, they have had just enough experience with the worse elements to have some justification for this conclusion). The chapter reprinted here is Brandreth's discussion on validity and regularity, and the different ways in which Christendom over time has dealt with the idea of what or who constitutes a valid and regular bishop.

Most of the contact information in the directory is out of date; as an historical document, it does have some value as another link in the chain of data. However, it does not give source citations for the information it contains, and this limits its value as an authoritative listing.

Worth having for those in the Old Catholic/Independent Catholic/etc. movements if it can be found in an inexpensive manner. Most of the information is available now on the internet, and even that has difficulty with being up-to-date, but has a greater likelihood of having current information.

This is a must read book for those interested in gender identity issues, as well as for those who enjoy memoirs. Ms. Jorgensen was the first American to have a sex change operation and undergo such public scrutiny. Though she never intended to have her transformation become public knowledge, it was leaked to the press, and from then on, her life was never the same. In the cultural milieu of the nineteen fifties, Ms. Jorgensen's sex change was big news.

Starting her life out as George Jorgensen, she never quite felt that she fit in and became a loner by inclination. One striking issue in the book, however, is that she came from an extremely loving and supportive family who always unconditionally accepted her as she was, both before and after her metamorphosis. Not every transgendered individual is as lucky as Ms. Jorgensen appears to have been with respect to familial relationships. Perhaps it was because her parents were of Danish descent, and Scandinavian people may tend to be more accepting of these issues.

Relentlessly upbeat, the book is a flattering and politely idealized memoir, as if anything too dark were exorcised from its pages. The chapters that cover Ms. Jorgensen's time in Denmark, where her change took place, are somewhat superficial and non-clinical. There is no real indication of any personal struggle or self-doubt with respect to her decision to undergo a life changing transformation. One has to remember, however, that this book was originally published approximately thirty five years ago, when the public's sensibilities on such issues were far more delicate.

What does come across in this autobiography is that Ms. Jorgensen had the courage to make a decision that for the time was somewhat unique and cutting edge, as there was virtually no literature available for the general public on transsexualism, and gender identity studies were still in their nascent stage. Ms. Jorgensen essentially paved the way for others by bringing to the public consciousness issues that had not before been the subject of public discussion. In bringing these issues into the public domain, she was subject to a torrent of abuse, as well as discriminatory practices, and seemed to be the endless butt of jokes. She took these problems in stride, however, and always managed to have the last laugh. Laughter, indeed, appears to have been the best medicine.

Ms. Jorgensen, an attractive natural blonde, who personified the stereotypic feminine ideal of the time, became an entertainer. Given her notoriety, her career options were limited, as she gathered a crowd whenever her identity became known. Playing the hand that was dealt her, she parlayed her notoriety into a successful club act, digressing into acting. She managed to make a success of herself, living a life that was interesting, but hardly scandalous. While this is an intriguing memoir, it is not an in depth profile of Ms. Jorgensen. The reader comes away knowing about Ms. Jorgensen, rather than knowing her. Still, all in all, it is a worthwhile read.

In the foreword to Clerambault, the author, Romain Rolland, says that 'This book is not a novel, but rather the confession of a free spirit telling of its mistakes, its sufferings and its struggles from the midst of the tempest'. He is correct - the story of Clerambault and his family throughout the Great War is hardly a novel at all. The plot is weak and the characters, with the exception of Clerambault, are poorly drawn. But where this piece does succeed is in the questions it raises about a topic that is sadly familiar to us all: War.

If not a novel, then what? The plot we have to work with is flimsy. Agýnor Clerambault is a minor poet, one of the many ambitious men living in Paris, who wish to make a living of their work. Happily for Clerambault, he manages to support his family with the strength of his poetry, but it is clear to all (except, perhaps, Clerambault himself), that his talents are minor. 'If we cannot amount to much, a good appearance is a consolation, and we love to be reflected in eyes which lend beauty to our mediocrity.' This is Clerambault. He is a weak man, but sincere within himself. He writes poetry because he loves it, and what else would there be for a man of few mechanical or physical talents to occupy his time with?

The far-away hum of the approaching Great War increases in volume until it is a roar. Paris is the intellectual capital of the world, the belle epoque or 'beautiful era' is in full swing, though to the perceptive, its last grand celebrations are the thrashings of a dying animal and not that of a healthy creature luxuriating in its endless potential. What better time then, to be a poet? To be an intellectual, living off the fat of the working class? To be Clerambault? As Rolland makes so clear, 'Safe in their West, it never occurred to them that their civilisation could lose the advantages gained; the march of progress seemed as inevitable as the rotation of the earth.'

And then the war comes. The Great War, the war to end all wars, it shatters the heady lifestyle of Paris, of France, of Europe. But how fares our hero? He becomes suddenly enamoured of his great country, much more than before. He buys newspapers and reads avidly of the war. In the mornings, with his family seated around the breakfast table, he reads out loud not only his own hastily composed poetry, but also news of the Front, of the encroaching war, of death and disaster and grand patriotism in all its glory.

Thus far, Rolland has steadily built up a rather fascinating character living in a defining time for the world. Thirty or so pages in, we have a compelling narrative, exhilarating prose, and an acute awareness of the outcome of the war. Rolland is easing us into his novel, his writing ensures that we slide along with the gentle current of easy patriotism, delicate fancy and clear metaphor. There are no intellectual snags, thus far.

But the novel changes. Clerambault begins to muse on the nature of war, not so much the violence or the death, but the way in which it rouses an extreme form of patriotism. He wonders at the manner in which politicians portray the events of the war, so that the young men of 1914 are swept up in the grandeur of it all. How is that an eighteen year old man can be convinced to throw his future away in a country he has barely given a thought to in his entire life? Clerambault believes it is patriotism, that subtle exercise of the State that has come into its own since the solidification of national identity.

Rolland writes with a firm, engaging hand. Yet it is the hand of an essayist at work, not that of a novelist. Characters are introduced as having an opinion that either compliments or disagrees with Clerambault, which allows the poet - which really means, Rolland - a chance to wax lyrical his own thoughts on this new information. Characters are not real life people so much as templates for ideas. When Clerambault's son, Maxime, returns home from the trenches, and is dismayed at the attitude of his family and friends, there is a chance that the novel will return to a narrative. But Maxime leaves, and is killed, which allows Clerambault to spend most of the remainder of the novel outraged at the sheer waste of war and violence. The plot stalls and dies; we are left to read essays.

The depth and breadth of Clerambault's convictions are staggering. At first, Clerambault seems fickle, able to alter his thoughts as the winds - or other characters - shift him about. But soon, his ideas solidify. As the novel progresses, he explores, with deeper and more insightful thoughts, the necessity for peace, not war. Understanding, not hatred. Clerambault's message is certainly not new, but it is told with such freshness and intelligence that it is difficult to disagree.

The plot of the novel continues, if only so that the predictable ending can occur. The French intelligentsia is outraged at Clarembault's pamphleteering of his desire for peace. How dare an upstart, middling poet write such inflammatory words? He is attacked, by foes and by friends who become foes, in a relentless example of the very problem which he is writing against.

Rolland wrote Clerambault in 1920, two years after the Great War came to its exhausted end. It is amazing to consider that, eighty-six years later, his words have as much resonance and accuracy as they did then. The unquestioning (and unquestionable) patriotism of certain countries in 2006 is dissected and criticised with remarkable fluency, and the question of war versus peace is one that will never grow old. This novel should perhaps not be read as a piece of fiction, but it should certainly be studied as a plea for thought, for rational decision, for peace and for understanding. As Rolland says in the introduction, 'God lends us the world to enjoy in common on one condition only, that we act uprightly.' Can we say that the events of the last five years have reflected this idea? Or the last twenty-five? Fifty? Ever, in the history of our species? I would argue not, as would Clerambault. Peace is something that is perhaps out of our grasp, but it is a end to which we should always struggle. Silence is our enemy and their weapon, speaking out is our duty.

Merriss' and Griswold's Composition Handbook has been around for many years. It is a fine tool to use in composition classes in grades 8 through 12. The book gives rules and shows the student an example of a correct usage and often an incorrect one. The book is ideal for revising papers, which, as most English teachers know, is when much of the learning of correct writing occurs. The book takes a little while for an instructor to learn, because the various grammar rules are referred to by a system of numbers and letters. However, it is very thorough and straightforward. Students are not likely to get confused if they just follow the system. And it works!
For more advanced students (and adults)I would recommend Pearlman's and Pearlman's "Guide to Rapid Revision."

First thing, I am new to PHP. Have read (some briefly) around 5 PHP books for the past weeks. Good things about this book are 1) the author used a light-toned approach like talking to the reader; 2) the author is apparently very familiar with PHP and web technologies and gave background/related info (e.g. CGI/Apache) plus relatively comprehensive handling of PHP. Code examples for large apps were not found. Code softcopy seemed unavailable either as download or CD. Devoted almost a good chapter on template management, which I personally found an overkill, especially one can use Smarty now. PHP 3 and 4 are covered (fully?). Unlike 'PHP and Mysql for Dynamic Web Sites' (Larry Ullman), OOP was covered here. To conclude, a good enough book but 1) would be nice to have a new edition, 2)a little on the pricey side for what it offers. Consider O'Reilly's (comprehensive treatment but not for the faint of heart, makes good reference or textbook.) and Ullman's (easy to take and very good pointers to related material and web sites, but not as theoretically-solid) first. Would give 5-star to O'Reilly (for the right reader) and 4 and a half to Ullman (for the lack of OOP, although not a huge deal as OOP covered in the PHP online manual from php.net).

If you want to get the best grades on your veterinary histology exams or quizzes, this is the book that can help you. It summarizes most of the key points in an organized, easy to understand manner. The electron micrographs have proven particularly helpful for identifying intra/extracellular structures, while the sample slides given are perfect for both pre-lab and test preparation. Plus, you can brush up on your knowledge with the study questions following each chapter. A must for any serious student, or for those having difficulties and needing extra help.

The editor/curators of this book got 50 contemporary artists to each write down instructions for a do-it-yourself art project, for the reader to try. Each is a small revelation of the artist, and a thought-provoker in itself. It's intelligent and fun -- a very clever expression and extension of contemporary art. It's just the thing for anyone who wishes they were artistic: you read an entry, and have the curious sensation that, not only is the project something you could do, but it would be an actual participation in the contemporary art world, pre-endorsed by prominent artists and curators.

The interesting thing about economics is the lack of emphasis on intention. Economists don't care what the intent of the policy is, only the outcome. The result of this all-consuming focus is that economic analyses have a fascinating way of seeing past wishful thinking. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Jeffrey Miron's analysis of narcotics prohibition, Drug War Crimes: the Consequences of Prohibition. Nearly everyone agrees that the United States has a drug problem, and our government arrests 1.5 million people a year fighting it. Is prohibition making the problem worse?

Miron certainly thinks so. Although the book is nominally objective, Miron's personal opinions on the issue are clear. This is not necessarily a criticism - to paraphrase Howard Zinn's argument in A People's History of the United States, the large body of evidence that has been built up in support of drug prohibition compels a one-sided account in order to balance the scales.

The argument goes like this: abridging the rights of citizens to use drugs is morally questionable in the first place; even if you decide that eliminating drug use is a noble aim of the government, the negative consequences of prohibition outweigh its positives; even if they didn't, outright prohibition is the worst way to go about achieving this goal. So why do we spend $33 billion a year on it?

Many negative effects of drug use are self-evident, such as increased corruption, the spread of infectious disease through the sharing of needles, and the transfer of wealth to criminals. Two questions, however, warrant extended analysis: To what extent does prohibition lower consumption? And what is the effect of prohibition on violence? Miron's analysis suggests that prohibition reduces consumption by only about 20%, while leading to dramatic increases in violence.

Some of these arguments are quite convincing, others aren't, while still others are neither, either due to moral subjectivity or to a lack of data. Nearly all of them, however, are thought provoking, and some are shocking. In an example rich with parallels to drug prohibition, Miron describes actions taken by the U.S. government during the 1920s. Knowing that individuals would attempt to use industrial alcohol to produce moonshine, congress ordered industries to change their method of alcohol production, making it unsuitable for ingestion. While their decision to poison their own citizens probably convinced some not to brew their own alcohol, thousands of others became ill or died.

As an example of the tenor of Drug War Crimes, consider the section exploring the idea of rational drug. The section argues that the negative effects of many drugs have been widely exaggerated. In support of this assertion, Miron cites a study of the consumers of certain products, including narcotics. The study finds that the percentage of consumers still using narcotics five years after the study began is similar to that of many legal products. Miron then concludes that heroin, say, is roughly as addictive as chocolate. Given the considerable legal, social, and health incentives to quit using drugs, this hardly seems a reasonable conclusion. But it's interesting, and it's an argument no one else is making.

A larger problem with the analysis is that the case against prohibition is, to some extent, academic. Every country on earth prohibits drugs; if any country were to change that policy, it would become a worldwide drug factory, not to mention violate international law and trade agreements.

Nevertheless, Miron didn't set out to write a book about politics - he wrote a policy analysis, and while his lack of neutrality will surely bother some readers, his overall conclusions are sound. He knows that in many of his arguments, there is no clear answer. The point is that "prohibition has enormous costs with, at best, modest and speculative benefits.... The goals of prohibition are questionable, the methods unsound, and the results are deadly." Given the available evidence, this appears undeniable. What to do instead is a tougher question.