Asia Books

Revolt in Paradise is a classic and it is good to see it in print again after a long absence. It is rather hard to classify this book: maybe autobiography, perhaps historical novel, possibly adventure story. On the face of it, it purports to be autobiographical: the story of a British-born American woman's fifteen years in Indonesia in the 1930s and 1940s. Doubt has been cast on its accuracy and indeed the author beings the book by saying, `It is always difficult to be completely honest about oneself'. This does not matter. It's a great story.

The story is divided into three parts. The first part tells of her time in Bali. In 1932 in Hollywood she saw the film Bali,The Last Paradise and shortly after set sail from New York on a cargo ship. She was an artist and made for Bali immediately after arriving in Java. Like all visitors at that time she stayed in the Dutch owned Bali Hotel in Denpasar. She felt, however, that this was not Bali but Holland, part of the colonial masters' country, and determined to leave as quickly as possible and live in a Balinese village. Such a thing was unheard of in those days but she hated the Dutch attitudes. She took off in her car, driving herself, and decided to stop when she ran out of petrol. The car happened to halt outside a Rajah's palace and although she does not mention it I have it on good authority that it was the palace of Bangli.

She was accepted as one of the family and given a Balinese name - K'tut Tantri. K'tut is the fourth-born child - the Rajah already had three. In this section she describes what it was like to live with a royal family. She describes the various ceremonies she attended and trips she took. She also tells of run-ins and arguments with the Dutch authorities. They did not approve and schemed to deport her, but never succeeded. Her analysis is not terribly profound - the Balinese are all wonderful and the Dutch are all terrible. She herself is heroic and brilliant at all things. She formed a very close relationship with the Rajah's son Agung Nura. My informant tells me that she formed an even closer relationship with the Rajah himself. Agung Nura was active in the independence movement, which K'tut Tanri later joined.

She found palace life a bit restrictive and unrepresentative of real Bali life and moved out and as she put it, `bought practically the whole of Kuta beach'. Here she put up a hotel in partnership with some Americans. This is a delightful section of the book despite the fact that she fell out with the Americans. The accounts of her relationships with her staff are endearing and clearly affectionate. The first hotel in Kuta seems to have been very popular. It was not a financial success, however, and she ran into difficulties with the Dutch authorities. Europe was at war. Germany invaded Holland and Japan invaded Indonesia - they landed in Bali first. The Dutch did not fire a shot in defence and fled to Java. It was no longer safe. K'tut Tantri left for Surabaya in East Java. The hotel was demolished by looters permitted by the Japanese.

The second section of the book recounts her time in Japanese occupied Java. The Dutch quickly surrendered. She was able to negotiate travel passes with the Japanese and helped the underground resistance movement against the Japanese. She narrates stories of arms smuggling and tales of derring-do. K'tut Tanti always plays a starring role. Finally she was caught and imprisoned for more than two years until almost the end of the war. She was tortured and the descriptions are quite harrowing.

The third and final section of the book describes the long independence struggle and her part in it. After the war the Dutch wanted to come back to Indonesia as overlords. The English helped them and bombed Surabaya, which was unarmed and did not have air-raid shelters, for three consecutive days. The blood of hundreds was shed. Women and children died. It was a turning point for K'tut Tantri and she determined to help the Indonesians again. She broadcast twice nightly in English from secret radio stations run by the guerillas. By this means she brought the struggle to the attention of the World and became known herself as Surabaya Sue. She also helped spread the word in an English language magazine called The Voice of Free Indonesia. She met and wrote a speech for President Sukarno. There were more cloak and dagger escapades until she went to Australia and toured the main cities publicizing Indonesia's case for freedom. Finally six years after the War ended World opinion forced the Dutch to grant Indonesia her independence.

The book ends there; K'tut Tanti drifts back to New York. After all the excitement it is rather an anti-climax and the reader is left dangling wanting to know more. Whether or not it is all true, it's a jolly good read.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

I was surprised to learn about the Dutch atrocities in Indonesia. The Japanese were bad enough and there are plenty accounts of their inhumane treatment of natives in conquered countries. However, what the Dutch did before and after the war was not good. In light of the current times torturing of others is unacceptable. Perps, no matter where they reside, White House included, should never be given a free pass on this behavior. They should all be hunted down and punished for their crimes against humanity. This is a fantastic account of human tragedy that should be brought to light and pursued for accountability.

As a fan of historical fiction, I was greatly pleased to come across this book of historical...history? *grin* This autobiography is well written and compelling. Having lived in Indonesia for a number of years (and having visited Bali), I found it really fascinating. I think anyone would enjoy it, though. It's a great way to familiarize yourself with world history.

Very good book. Tells a fascinating story about the author's life in Indonesia. Brave lady who was willing to risk everything for all she believed in.Vivid picture of Bali and the situation there, and the people and culture.

I am not a Japanese but my wife and I love eating Japanese food. We bought this book and used it multiple times for cooking dinner. The instruction was clear and the result was tasty. Highly recommended.

PS: We usually just look at the photos in the book to pick the rice bowl that we want to prepare.

I picked up this book on a trip to Japan and didn't really expect much out of it. To my surprise, it's become one of my all-time favourite cookbooks. It's a great way to start learning about Japanese home cooking. There are also some great recipes for Korean and Chinese dishes. Every recipe I've tried is quite tasty and easy to prepare. It's also great when cooking for 1-2 people or when you're on the go. For years I've thought rice was a side bowl of dry and bland grains. Well, no more! Get yourself a decent rice cooker and get ready for a new way of preparing wholesome, quick, and delicious meals.

Wow. That sums this up in one word. The recipies are setup for a serving of 1 person. No division required for odd number of people, just multiply the recipie and wham! We've made dozens of the recipies and although I'm white, I've got a phillipeano friend that's telling everyone that I'm asian. The meals come out soo good I've got people asking us to cook for them. It's got helpful information for properly preparing rice, and other aspects of cooking that might be foreign to a lot of people out there. I definately recommend this for everyone.

If you like rice dishes, buy this book. I'm no cook, but I've tried 3 different dishes in as many nights, and they all turned out great.

There're MANY simple, delicious dishes that you can cook up within an hour or less. All I've bought so far is sake (I have most other oriental spices, oil, and what nots).

I just had to get used to cooking w/o salt, cos you use soy sauce alot of times.

Buy it and enjoy it!

I am like The Rice Sprout Song.Eileen chang is the greatest writer of China.

Another one of Eileen Chang's translations of her Chinese works, this is an excellent novel about China's farmers and the struggles they encounter as a result of Maoism in China. This is my second favorite novel of hers, behind Naked Earth. Unlike the latter, The Rice-Sprout Song is much easier to find, and now includes an excellent introduction by David Wang.

The Old Master who collected Chinese wisdom in Tao Te Ching some 2,500 years ago wrote pithily:
"The sage never has a mind of his own;
He considers the minds of the common people to be his mind."

Today, he would not change a word for the sage: the sheng-jen in Beijing. True, modern China, a colossus of 1.2 billion people, is fronted by Shanghai and other booming, skyscrapered, fiber-opticked, globally connected metropolises. But beyond the urban fronts, reality is 900 million peasants--75% of the total population--living a rural, feudal life with Marxist trappings. What gives the Beijing mandarin insomnia is not rhetorical exchanges with America like we saw earlier in 2001. No, it's much more the primal fear bad weather and bad crops might visit hunger upon the 900 million--if the peasants go hungry, the government goes down and chaos surely follows. Chaos, for the Chinese mind, being anathema (off the Tao, hindering wu-wei).

The Rice-Sprout Song by Eileen Chang (1920-95), first published in 1955, deftly evokes rural Chinese life in the early days of the Maoist Revolution. Though well known to Chinese readers everywhere, Chang's work has only recently been in print again for English readers. In 1998, three years after her death, the University of California reissued this novel and a companion work, The Rouge of the North.

Chang, a giant in Chinese literature, wrote and lived a self-proclaimed aesthetic of desolation, especially after immigrating to the United States in the mid-Fifties. A Garbo-esque recluse, Chang was found dead in a barren Hollywood, California, studio apartment. Her will asked that her body be "cremated instantly, the ashes scattered in any desolate spot, over a fairly wide area, if on land." If Chang, as she said, was haunted by thoughts of desolation, then The Rice-Sprout Song shows a corollary to her artistic hunger: Her writing transcends any simple, obvious political interpretation of her material. Neither pro-Mao nor anti-Mao, but a literary meditation on peasant lives caught up in the ironies of political will and human need when hunger stalks the countryside.

The Rice-Sprout Song gets underway with a common family event: a wedding. Gold Flower of T'an Village will marry Plenty Own Chou of neighboring Chou Village. This might not be a joyous occasion for Chang begins to summon the isolation and loneliness of village life: "Sunlight lay across the street like an old yellow dog, barring the way. The sun had grown old here." Yes, even that universal restorer of the spirit--the sun--can be menacing. That all is not right when the festive wedding occasion arrives is shown by note of the "inferior food" that of necessity is served. Big Uncle complains that he cannot see the rice in his bowl of watery gruel. This jho mush--anything but solid rice--becomes one thematic particular for hunger that haunts this novel.

If Chang were less an artist, the reader's easy-to-hate nemesis would be Comrade Wong, the kan pu of T'an Village, the local representative of the Party. For it is Comrade Wong's unenviable task to carry out a political action showing support for the People's Liberation Army in their fight on the Korean front: a gift the peasants cannot afford: half a pig and forty catties of rice cakes from each family. But before this leads to the tragic end to The Rice-Sprout Song, we follow, in flashback, Wong as he finds the love of his life, Shah Ming. He loses her in the vagaries of fighting for the PLA. When at last he sees her again, she waves from a window in the facade of a collapsed building on the battlefield. Inside the building, Wong sees only rubble and overhead, at the window, nothing. He knows his hallucination proved Shah Ming was saying good-bye from beyond. For Comrade Wong, fate gave him nothing but the Party.

We also see dramatic irony when Comrade Ku, the city intellectual, comes to live in T'an Village, to learn the ways of the peasants. His goal of a movie script about village life suffers from writer's block; he habitually sneaks off to another town to buy food to eat on the sly. And when Big Aunt, who spouts Communist rhetoric that is appallingly upbeat, breaks down in a fit of anger. She says they are all empty-bellied and she doesn't care if she is reported. And when Moon Scent, the wife of Gold Root, returns from working three years as a maid in Shanghai. A force to be reckoned with, Moon Scent, in an act of righteous anger, gives this tragedy its capstone.

Essential reading that shares the texture, the heritage, and the yearnings of nearly a billion of our fellow earthlings, search out this reissue of The Rice-Sprout Song. As one t'ai chi ch'uan teacher said, "Perfect doesn't exist. Near-perfect does." The Rice-Sprout Song is a "near-perfect" evocation of the common people in the timeless Middle Kingdom.

Rice Sprout Song is possibly the best work of literature I have ever read. It was first recommended to me as descriptive of the collectivization era shortly after the 1949 Revolution in China, a classic tale between the state and the individual. It is a spellbinding, troubling work, and is almost impossible to believe that it was Eileen Chang's first work in English. The language she uses is sparse, beautiful and conveys greatest impact after the last page is read, and the cover closed. It is more than an interesting story about conflict between the state and the individual. It is an unsettling story of physical starvation and the death of hope and love.

This is an honest, deep, and well footnoted description of why the Middle East and China did not develop the full power of science, philosophy and technology for the full service of mankind like Western Europe did. I read the book as part of my on-going effort to understand what drives Middle Easterners to act the way they do on the World Stage. I learned that after about 1200 AD, Middle Eastern Islamic scholarly denial of the concept of cause and effect made and makes the scientific method null and void for the people of the Middle East. This prevents them from creating for themselves the body and soul enriching fruits of advanced science, philosophy and technology. For reasons predating the Renaissance, Europe had and has no such fear of accepting the scientific method. This includes accepting critical examination of the historical accuracy of Holy Scripture, and also learning in exquisite detail how God runs His Universe. I'm now reading in the book about China.

I have read Dr. Huff's book, and also read the 1st edition. The 2nd edition is after 9/11. Dr. Huff's main thesis appeared to me very self-evident. Let's examine the crux of the case of Islam vs. Modern Science, as examined masterfully by Dr. Toby E. Huff, a Chancellor Professor of Sociology at University of Massachusetts, Dartmouth.

Dr. Huff's latest edition, which is better referenced than his earlier (1st) edition, contains a total of NINE (9) chapters. For understanding the role of Islam in the development of Science, the casual reader at least needs to read thoroughly chapter 2 (Arabic Science and the Islamic World), chapter 3 (Reason and Rationality in Islam and the West), Chapter 5 (Madrassas, Universities and Science). These chapters help explain the most important theme: WHY ISLAM FAILED TO GIVE BIRTH TO MODERN SCIENCE, EVEN THOUGH IT HAD ONCE GENERATED THE BEST OF THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENTS IN SCIENCE.

The author has done a very masterful job in supporting his views by extensively citing noted researchers like Max Weber, Joseph Needham, George Makdisi, Ignaz Goldziher and others, in addition to referring to his own research papers and books about the comparative analysis of scientific development and its universal spread (globalization).

Going to chapter 5, the reader finds that the madrassas were aimed at teaching two classes of science(s),and legal systems (or jurisprudence with associated logic/analysis/metaphysics). There were "Prophetic sciences" and "foreign sciences". The former was actually based on logic systems whose boundaries were very clearly drawn: the prophetic sciences were in line with the concept of upholding "divinity" as revealed by the Quran. The foreign sciences, on the other hand, were those analytical body of knowledge that were at odds with the Quranic traditions and the theological propositions.

The bedrock reason that explains the failure of Islam to usher modern science is articulated very well by Dr. Huff in his book, page 158, that reads as follows:

"It was even essential to Islam, ..., because the 'method was part and parcel of the Islamic orthodox process for determining orthodoxy. Where it failed ws in the creation of a set of objective standards of law, against which all other laws and principles could be judged. Since the legal principles of Islamic law had been given once and for all, in the Quran and the sunna, and in the principles of fiqh worked out by al-Shafi'i, the only task left was to use logic in the narrow sense, to uncover faulty reasoning and thus preserve the doctrinal status quo...."

This explains clearly, as one finds that application "freethought" was arrested and persecuted by the dictates in the theological canons of Islam, why modern science did not take birth from the womb of Islam, but rather took firm foothold in the European rennaisance ushering the birth of quantum (wave) mechanics and modern science.

The book is a must reading simply because of sheer amount of research that has been done by Dr. Huff to explore this aspect. It would be an asset for anyone doing research and wishing to include comparative aspects of Islamic societal functions into the research.

This is a HIGHLY RECOMMENDED book for a serious reader.

Huff sees science as a social practice which cannot flourish without a social niche for the person who would investigate nature, and covers a long span of history looking at the ways societies create or fail to create those social roles. I have read a good many books on this subject, and Huff's is the most fair-minded, cogent and satisfying. Recommend highly.

Until the 14th century, science in the Muslim lands and China was more advanced than in Western Europe. Astronomers in Timurid Iran (of all places!) improved on the Ptolemaic system with epicycles mathematically equivalent to those used by Copernicus much later (although they were still geocentrist). That China was more technologically advanced than Europe still at the time of Marco Polo is well-known. Yet, around the 14th century, science in both the Muslim lands and China went into decline, while the erstwhile little backwater of Western Europe eventually developed modern science.

What went wrong? Or, from a European perspective, what did we do right?

That's the subject of Toby E. Huff's book "The Rise of Early Modern Science". Huff is a British professor who also worked at scholarly institutions in Malaysia (a Muslim nation) and Singapore (a Chinese nation). He writes in the tradition of well-known German sociologist Max Weber, who is most known for his thesis that the ethos of Calvinism somehow gave rise to capitalism. Weber also analyzed other religious traditions and their impact on society. As for Huff, his argument is complex and only a short outline is possible in a review like this. Like the other reviewers, I will concentrate on the chapters dealing with Islam and the West.

Huff doesn't deny that Muslim science was, for centuries, more advanced than European science. Indeed, there was virtually no science at all in the Latin West during the Early Middle Ages. Huff also points out that Muslim science was innovative, the most dramatic example being the previously mentioned astromomical observatory at Maragha in Iran. The eventual decline of Muslim science (except in the field of military technology) cannot therefore be a result of brain drain, lack of innovative thinkers, etc. Something else must be at work here.

What factors could have impeded the rise of modern science in the Muslim caliphates? The author points out that the natural sciences were always seen as "foreign" in the Muslim lands. Many ulama (Muslim scholars) were deeply suspicious of the "foreign" sciences. Muslim jurisprudence, not science, was at the center of Muslim institutions of higher learning. Even Muslim theology (!) was sometimes seen as suspect, since the most conservative ulama feared that it might lead to philosophical reasoning independent of the Quran and the sunna. Eventually, the natural sciences were assimilated with Islam, but as subordinate parts of a largely religious whole. Thus, astronomy was accepted since it could be used to compute the qibla to Mecca, and astronomers became mosque officials. The natural sciences couldn't develop independently.

There were several kinds of colleges in the Muslim world, the madrasas being the most important. However, they didn't function as European universities. The madrasas were religious institutions concentrating on Muslim jurisprudence. Scientific education *did* take place at the madrasas, but not as part of the public curriculum. Rather, instruction in the sciences was given by the teacher in private, often at his own house. A tradition of dissimulation developed, both in regard to science and Greek philosophy. Rather than spreading scientific or philosophical ideas far and wide, they were kept within small, almost esoteric circles. (Jews such as Maimonides had a similar attitude.) Also, instruction at the madrasas was highly personalistic. There was no faculty, and hence no set corporate standards for exams or degrees. Essentially, the student got his degree if and when his personal teacher felt he was ready for it. With the exception of medical science under some rulers, there were no attempts to standardize the degrees over a larger territory.

Huff believes that Muslim society was personalistic and heterogenous. This prevented the rise of the universalist spirit necessary for objective science. In Western Europe, the Roman law was considered binding on all. In the Sunni Muslim lands, there were at least four different schools of jurisprudence, and non-Muslims had their own laws. Since Muslim laws were based on the Quran, the sunna and the consensus among the ulama, innovation was difficult or even prohibited. Since the madrasas concentrated on teaching Muslim law, the ethos of these institutions was one of traditionalism and particularism. It was difficult to develop a universalizing, innovative spirit. Huff further points out that Muslim law didn't recognize corporations as legal persons. A corporate institution with a faculty, such as the European university, couldn't develop under these conditions.

Huff then points out that there was a de facto secular sphere of society in medieval Western Europe, something sadly lacking in the Muslim lands. This secular sphere was created after the investiture conflict, when the papacy and the temporal power had to compromise with each other. Another important factor was the re-discovery of Roman law, which was often seen as secular. The university of Bologna, where Roman law was taught, was purely secular. In the Muslim society, there was no distinction between "church" and state, and hence no neutral space (a central concept for Huff) for potentially subversive scientific exploration and speculation. In Huff's opinion, the Western European universities provided such a neutral space. They were independent corporations, with their own laws and jurisdictions, and some of them were purely secular. Temporal rulers and church authorities did attempt to interfere with the free flow of ideas, to be sure, but the institutionalized independence of the universities made this difficult. Also, high and late medieval society at large was a complex web of guilds, communes, and independent cities, making it well-nigh impossible for a strong, authoritarian center to assume control. In this situation, it was easier for free inquiry to thrive, despite occasional setbacks (the fate of Abelard and Galileo comes to mind). Huff also writes that the science education at European universities was public, rather than secret or semi-secret as in the Muslim territories. Indeed, universities sometimes had lectures open to non-students, at which members of the public at large could ask questions to the professors. This was a far cry from Muslim (or Jewish) esotericism.

Since the author of "The Rise of Early Modern Science" is a Weberian, he naturally believes that religious or ideological factors played an important role in the process. The natural choice would be to contrast Christianity with Islam. However, Huff seems to believe that the crucial ingredient was a rationalist form of Platonism. There was a Platonist renaissance of sorts during the 12th century, and in Huff's opinion it was strongly influenced by Plato's dialogue "Timaeus". From "Timaeus", the philosophers of the Latin West drew the conclusion that the universe is rational, that it follows strict natural laws of cause and effect, and that humans are endowed with a rational mind that can learn to grasp these laws. The analogy between the universe and a machine was used already during the High Middle Ages. Of course, medieval West Europeans still believed that God could miraculously intervene in his creation, as when Jesus was born from a virgin, but this was seen as an entirely different order of events. Under normal circumstances, the universe worked like clock-work according to natural laws graspable by scientific inquiry. Huff also points to the Christian idea of a conscience as a further source of inspiration for the notion that humans have a rational mind, but he admits that Paul might have gotten this idea from popular Platonism. Later, the works of Aristotle would enter the picture as well.

By contrast, Muslim theology was occasionalist. According to this concept, the universe does *not* follow self-contained natural laws created by God at some point in the beginning. Rather, God controls everything directly, from moment to moment. Thus, there is no real causality. That effect necessarily follows cause is an illusion. God wills a certain effect to follow a certain cause at any given moment. He might have willed otherwise. Trying to discover self-contained natural laws (even self-contained natural laws originally created by God) is meaningless. Occasionalism became an insurmountable barrier to modern scientific development in the Middle East.

The Muslims had access to more or less the same empirical facts as the Europeans, as shown by the astronomers of Timurid Iran whose epicycles were mathematically equivalent to those of Copernicus. Indeed, many Muslim libraries were endowed with tens of thousands of books, some of them obviously scientific. Yet, the Muslims never proposed heliocentrism. In Europe, the idea that the natural world wasn't directly dependent on the will of God, but functioned independently, made it possible to propose daring new paradigms such as the Copernican one, even when this seemingly contradicted the literal meaning of Scripture. The neutral space of the universities made it possible for such ideas to get a hearing, especially since education was a public, corporate effort. And since the universities weren't directly controlled by church or state, kings or popes couldn't simply close them down.

In Muslim lands, ulama could issue a fatwa against independent-minded scholars, while a Catholic attempt to stop "heresies" at the university of Paris (the condemnation of 1277) proved ineffectual. The ulama could also mobilize the common man against scholars not of their liking, while universities in Europe were protected by legal privilege from interference by outsiders. In the Latin West, a metaphysical leap to modern science was possible (another central and complex point made by the author), while this proved impossible in the lands of Islam.

"The Rise of Early Modern Science" is well-written, interesting and well-worth pondering. Indeed, I ordered several of the books referenced in the footnotes.

Yet, one question remains. If the Muslims were so bad, how could they develop science for centuries? How was it possible for this non-secular, ulama-ridden, particularistic Muslim society with its wackie jurisprudence to be scientifically leading for 500 years? Indeed, Huff believes that Muslim civilization at its zenith was better even than China!

Why did it work so well for so long? Why did the decline take place during the 14th century? Why not earlier? These are important questions, yet Huff never really answers them. He does suggest some answers in passing, however. One is the ironic observation that science started to decline at the precise moment that it was finally "Islamized". Thus, as long as there was a creative tension between "foreign" science and "Muslim" science, advances were made. The moment "foreign" science became a subordinate part of a non-secular whole, progress stopped. At another point, Huff suggests that al-Ghazali and a 14th century Sufi revival are to blame. However, the theme isn't explored further.

Be that as it may, I give the book four stars.

PS. The chapters on China are, of course, equally interesting.

This is a great story for any age group. My eight year old son read this book and learned more about current events than the news could have ever taught him. I used this book in my tenth grade class room when we did a unit on picture books and changing the world and my students were prompted to plan a school wide "tolerance / compassion" day so that others could learn more about people around the world.

I think this is a great book for encouraging discussion of diversity in the classroom.

In the school where I teach a lot of the children come from refugee backgrounds and this story was something they could really relate to. But the other kids could relate to it too.

The imagery is powerful and the kids loved it.

Dealing with refugee children i must say this is a great book, it realy captures the heartache of the afgahni experience.

"It's always the same. The jets scream overhead." is the powerful first line of this story that resonates even more forcefully in the wake of the September 11th attacks. The Roses in My Carpets is a masterful tale of a young Afghan refugee by Toronto writer Rukhsana Khan. It is based on a true story, that of the author's foster child in Peshawar, Pakistan. With the unfolding of historical events, it is probably destined to be a classic.

Spare, grim and unsentimental, the story is a beautifully woven narrative of a young fatherless refugee boy caring for his mother and sister in a war-torn world. Symbolic of the loss of identity suffered by refugees, the boy remains nameless throughout the story. Movingly, he struggles to survive with his family within the sombre parameters that govern his universe. Escape finally arrives when he goes to his job as an apprentice carpet weaver. There he makes sure "there are plenty of roses in my carpets". As the story ends, hope surfaces in the young boy's dream of finding "a space, the size of a carpet, where the bombs cannot touch us."

Ronald Himler's watercolour and pencil drawings look overwhelmingly familiar with the images that now flood our homes through television. I have read Roses to my four year old many times and she appreciated the opportunity to comprehend the devastating effect of war on families. I would highly recommend it to other parents and teachers.

I traveled to Laos in January, 2002 and found that the Rough Guide to Laos enhanced my experience tremendously. The writing is much more thorough and intelligent than Lonely Planet's guidebook for Laos. About 95% of independent travelers depend on the Lonely Planet book, but I think Rough Guide does a much better job. Laos is changing quickly so there are oftentimes many additional restaurants and hotels in a town that were not around when the book was researched, but that is not a major problem. I highly recommend this book.

Unlike another reviewer, I did not have to benefit of travelling to Laos with the authors. But after reading this guide book, I felt as if I knew them, like they were old friends who were jotting down their travel notes to help me on my journey. By halfway through the book, i felt i could read between the lines to tell the good from the better, the bad from the horrible. As someone who generally hates guide books, I can honestly say, this one is all good. I only wish i could someday travel to Laos with Jeff Cranmer and Steven Martin. Such a fascinating read clearly could only come from fascinating people.

I never appreciated how difficult it must be to write a travel guide until I spent a week with the authors in southern Laos. Unlike the north, which has several bonafide tourist destinations, the south is still largely untraveled. A 50-mile trip between two provincial capitals took us more than four hours, packed into a "bus" (essentially a covered truck with wooden benches installed in the payload) in the dusty heat of the hot season. And at the end of the road, we found towns with no accommodation save the local government guest house, where the only "history" in evidence was the one stone wall remaining from the US bombing or the craters still lining the avenues.

But despite the hardships and the apparent lack of organized tourism, I would definitely go back again if I had the chance. Something unique about Laos - the scenery, the food, especially the people - gets under your skin.

This is where the authors achieve their greatest success, in their ability to communicate what is special about this amazing, but often overlooked, country. The Rough Guide's signature style, which tends to include social, cultural and historical information throughout (rather than just tucking a few pages into the introductory section) is of particular benefit here. The result is so much more than a bland recitation of towns, distances, modes of transport and places to stay.

This book definitely rekindled my desire to go back to Laos. And when I do, I know what I'll be using as my guide.

None of the guides to Laos are perfect. This one was at least helpful and the writing tolerable. That's all you can ask, apparently. It doesn't matter, though. If you make it to Luangphabang and stay for a while I don't think you'll care which guidebook was "best". You'll be too busy enjoying one of the most beautiful, romantic cities I've ever had the joy of setting foot in. If you're French visit the Dao Fe creperie, if you speak English, try to find the owner of the Duang Champa, and whatever you do, wherever you go, learn a little Lao so you can talk to people in their own language, like a proper human being. You can get away with speaking English in Vientiane and Luangphabang, but it's rude; in the villages they aren't going to be very interested in what you have to say if you can't at least speak a little Lao. So your choice of guidebook will quickly become an afterthought once the first few days have passed.

What I like best about the book is the way in which it traces the historical development of calligraphy. The author's Japan bias matches my own (I got into calligraphy in Japan) and so I didn't particularly mind the heavy Japan slant. What I found frustrating was the lack of a pronunciation guide, especially for the Sanskrit. Given the diacritics in use, I would have liked to have known how to pronounce the dotted consonants, etc. It would be nice to learn more about Khmer and Thai calligraphy also, but I turn to other books...

Two years ago, at a Zen retreat, I needed something to relax my mind. The priest who headed the retreat had, at his house, an assortment of books from which to choose. I didn't want something cerebral. I fingered his library and came upon John Steven's "Sacred Calligraphy of the East." It was perfect! It offered pictures from which I was able to relax and study the historical progress of Eastern calligraphic forms. Since then, I have bought the book for myself and I continually refer to it when in need. That may seem rather odd: I don't really know why the book relaxes me and gives me solice, but I am quite grateful to John Stevens for his contribution to the art and to my life.

Sacred Calligraphy of the East takes you through the scripts used in the sacred writings of religions and nations of East Asia. If the book would have just been a wide collection of calligraphic examples, this would have been a good enough reason to get the book. But the book is more than this: It actually teaches you to draw these characters. It's a wonderful book.

Honestly I bought the book out of pure intuition. I didn't know what to expect except for a very interesting index. It was a wonderful surprise. Leading a meditation workshop based on western calligraphy technique, I had a keen personal interest on reading this book. Extraordinary in its coverage of background, theory, examples and exercises, it sure is an excellent addition to any artist or person interested in finding a creative and trascendental outlet for his creativity. Although a little technical knowledge goes a long way here, it is also easy for beginners to start. Recommended whole-heartedly.

Thoroughly researched, beautifully laid out, and full of concise and clear information. I have read and referred to dozens of books on these subjects while researching a project, and The Sacred East stands out from the crowd. Some of these religious traditions are complex, multi-layered, and difficult for an outsider to penetrate. The text cuts through the myriad details that can hamper a broader understanding, while opening enough topics to allow for further study if desired. Highly recommended.

This text is a very well laid out and detailed script. The photos are excellent. If you had to buy one book explaining all the religions / belief systems covered...... I would suggest this one as your pick!

This is a beautiful, well-laid out and easy to read book that covers all the basics of Buddhism, Hinduism, Confucianism, Taoism and Shinto. The contributors and editors all have excellent backgrounds in the study of these various religions. The text is extremely accessible and lends itself well to use as a text book in a college course.

Western society's intense interest in Eastern culture and religion is best exemplified in this beautifully detailed and comprehensive book. With an engaging look at the history of each of the East's major religions, the authors offer the reader a special insight in the sacred rites and rituals which typify each of these religions. For those who subscribe to Buddhist, Taoist, Shinto philosophy, or Confucian wisdom, it a rare gem of a book, through which Eastern philosophy devotees can command a better appreciation of their tenets and worldviews. Fastidiously detailed, with brilliantly photographed selections of the various sects in costume, architecture and symbolism, the authors also offer a penetrating look into the minds and hearts of the believers, while assisting the reader in a better understanding of Eastern mysticism and metaphysicalism. Editor Scott Littleton and his colleagues have written a "primer extraordinaire" for Eastern religious thought!

The remarkable, memorable and poignant story is about Brothel Number 8 in Sandakan, a port town 1200 miles from Hong Kong in the South Seas, where young Japanese women were trafficked into prostitution, hence, the lowest class of women. In 1968, author Tomoko Yamazaki, began her journey into Amakusa to learn about the karayuki-san and encountered Osaki, born in 1909, and by age 10 was sold to the brothel. Too young at first, she worked as a house-maid, then by 12, selling her body.

For 3 weeks, Tomoko lived with Osaki in a rustic, poverty stricken home, with dirt floors, no outhouse, and barely any food. She had to sleep on the same mat that was used for servicing many many men. Tomoko's mission to document the story of life in the brothel is not known to Osaki at first, and furthermore, particularly in the village, karayuki-san is not discussed publicly. The veil of secrecy remains throughout while Osaki tells the curious villagers that the new woman seen is her daughter-in-law.

With extreme caution to hear and document the story, and with utmost privacy about the subject, we learn about Ofuni, who was a manager of a brothel, whose kindness to the girls was never forgotten. The suspense occurred when speaking with Ofuni's family, and how, with no other choice and with extreme urgency, author Tomoko broke down to steal the photographs from the album.

This is well-documented, thoroughly researched story to the end, and with impressive notes, references, historical and geographical information, and photos. Also included is a complete index. The translation is excellent, it conveys many moods depicted.

Sandakan Brothel No. 8 is the first of a trilogy by the author and includes two other books, The Graves of Sandakan and The Story of Yamada Waka. She has authored numerous books.

The book was the basis for the foreign film that was nominated for an Oscar in 1975, Sandakan No. 8; it may also be titled Brothel Eight and possibly difficult to find. But it lost to tough competition, a remarkable Kurosawa gem, Dersu Uzala, which I recommend.

A companion to the book is the film, most likely still in VHS, and may be difficult to locate in VHS or DVD. Although I believe the books are always better than the film versions, this color movie version was very good. The focus was more on flashback versus the emotional feeling the author experienced visiting Osaki. .....Rizzo

Sometimes when reading or thinking or, simply, being direct witness to the casual cruelty that God is so evidently fond of, we feel a small bubble become loosened in the vicinity of our inner soul and, rising and expanding, it reaches surface and our faces spontaneously contract and our eyes fill with tears and we must sit quietly for a moment and, in my case, wish that we could smash that God squarely in it's hellish face. But it passes and we are again back in the normal universe where we understand that things just are. The reader of this book has more than one opportunity for such experience. The slightly elitest tone of the author does not detract but, somehow, offers some hope that we may grow up. The translation, as well as I can judge having lived only four years in Hiroshima, is superb.

Sometimes when reading or thinking or, simply, being direct witness to the casual cruelty that God is so evidently fond of, we feel a small bubble become loosened in the vicinity of our inner soul and, rising and expanding, it reaches surface and our faces spontaneously contract and our eyes fill with tears and we must sit quietly for a moment and, in my case, wish that we could smash that God squarely in it's hellish face. But it passes and we are again back in the normal universe where we understand that things just are. The reader of this book has more than one opportunity for such experience. The slightly elitest tone of the author does not detract, but offers some hope, that we may grow up. The translation, as well as I can judge having lived only four years in Hiroshima, is superb.

This book is the heartrending story of a Japanese child prostitute. She was sold by her family at the age of 8 to a sex slave trafficker, shipped to North Borneo (port of Sandakan) and forced to work in the sex business at the age of 12, even before she had her first menstruation.

The roots of the trafficking system were religious, economic and political.
On the religious front, the Confucian system of patriarchy determined the social duties of women. They were told to obey first their fathers, than their husbands and ultimately their sons. The social superiority of the male permitted the exploitation of women financially, physically, sexually and emotionally.

Economically, high taxation rates for the farmers (60 % of the yield went to the landlord) provoked poverty and famine: 'There were days when I would have nothing to swallow but water from morning 'til night.'
Starving peasants felt compelled to sell their daughtes in order to save the rest of the family.
The main character in this book, Osaki, agreed (?) at the age of 8 to be sold in order to permit her brother to buy farmland.

This poverty was aggravated by the settlement policies of the government provoking a burgeoning population in the region.
More, the Japanese government did nothing against the traffickers. On the contrary, it needed the foreign currency sent back by the sex slaves in order to become, as it said, a strong nation.
The selling of children in Japan has only been abolished in 1959.

After the exploitation by the government and the landlords, the children were milked by the traffickers, who took 50 % of their earnings and compelled them to redeem with the rest their original inflated 'investment'.

Having heavily supported the Japanese nation with their bodies, the sex workers were looked upon as 'Boule de Suif's' by the rest of the population when they could come back home. They tried to avoid to be recognized in order to escape their social 'stigma'.
Osaki survived prychologically nearly unscathed and without guilt her harsh experience.

This book is a profound human document about the struggle for survival. It is excellently introduced by Karen Colligan-Taylor.
Highly recommended, not only for Japanese scholards.

I also recommend the autobiography of the geisha Sayo Masuda, as well as the work of Robert Van Gulik 'Sexual Life in Ancient China'.

I own about 450 books on India and Indian culture, so when I say this is one of my 2-3 favorite books on India (the other probably being Meeting God by Stephen Huyler), it truly says something about this book.

The Sari is beautiful to look at, and fascinating to read. It draws us into women's lives in a way that is enlightening, personal, and does not play to Western preconceptions.

A cross between social antropology and coffee-table book, this book appeals on many levels. It has a ring of truth, drawn from hundreds of interviews with Indian women about their lives and their attitude towards the clothes they wear. It sets these individual attitudes squarely in the cultural milieu in which they belong.

I hope that it gets the wide readership it deserves.

I really enjoyed Mukulika Banerjee's look into the beautiful but often complicated world of the sari. It provides a great deal of information on regional customs. I was disappointed that the book did not contian more photos.

I have had a deep interest in Indian and Pakistani dress for four or five years. I own and wear several saris and shalwar kamiz, but didn't know much about their history or the nuances of dress; this book changed that for me. I was looking for a well illustrated coffee table book, but got that and much more! I could barely put it down from the moment it was delivered. Although there is a lot of detail, it is written in a way that is interesting and easy to read. I highly reccomend it!

Mukulika Bannerjee's book, while easily accessible to Westerners with little to no knowledge of Indian clothing customs, also goes in-depth about the many levels of nuance attached to a deceptively simple 6-yard piece of unsewn cloth. She delineates cultural sentiments about what colors and styles are appropriate for unmarried girls, the new bride, middle-aged mothers, and widows. Sections include explanations of the many fabric styles, from ethnic handloom cottons and silks to garish polyester synthetics, along with discussions on what sort of woman is likely to wear each, and for what occasion. Fascinating real-life vignettes feature all sorts of sari wearers, from Hindu to Muslim and from the poorest villager to Bollywood stars and political leaders like Indira Gandhi. The many stunning color photographs make this book a real delight to the eyes as well as a great source of information on a topic rarely covered in the West.