Category Archives: book reviews

Book Review: John Keats, the Making of a Poet

The book title page and the frontispiece: a “Life mask” from 1816

In July, while looking around for a book to read—a book I would find interesting yet wouldn’t want to keep after reading, I saw on my bookshelves in the storeroom John Keats: The Making of a Poet. By Aileen Ward, published in 1963, this was perfect. It looked like  serious biography, the subject of poetry still holds my interest, and I didn’t think it would be a book I’d like to read twice.

Wentworth Place, where much of Keats writing took place.

Born in 1795 in London, son of a groom/stableman, Keats was one of the “Romantic era” poets. The last major one to be born and the first to die.  Before reading this, I knew his poetry and read some of it. I have, somewhere upon my over-stuffed bookshelves, a small volume that someone pulled together of best-known works, and a volume of his complete poems.

But I knew little about the man except about his tragic death from consumption at age 25. This book told me much about him. His father was a hard worker who opened a business for stabling the horses of travelers; he died when Keats was 9 and away at boarding school. His mother was a gadfly who quickly remarried upon her husband’s death, left the family for a few years, then returned in time to have Keats nurse her through the final stages of consumption when he was a teenager.

A sketch of Keats on his deathbed, 1821.

Keats took up the study of medicine and seemed to do well with it. He was at the point of launching into one of the lower-level medical sub-professions when poetry became his main interest. He began to write it and found he could do it. Alas, he fell under the influence of Leigh Hunt, who was roundly disliked by the better known literary critics. Hence Keat’s first poetry book, published in 1817 while he was still planning on a career in medicine, was also denounced by those same critics.

Despite this, Keats laid aside the medical field and took up poetry as his vocation. His long poem, “Endymion,” published and panned by the critics, is not considered a classic. According to Ward, many of his shorter poems were autobiographical, written about this or that person, or place, or event. The most famous of these is “On First Reading Chapman’s Homer”.

But Keats struggled financially, as well as in his health. He never received his full inheritances from his parents and grandparents, never earned much from his published poems, and lived without extravagance.

This biography does a good job of telling all of this, sometimes in almost too much detail. But it does keep moving and did keep my reading. I read about 10 pages a day in my noon reading time, in the sunroom our outside in the woods when the weather cooperated, and finished it in a little over a month.

I found the sources used by Ward and her way of spinning them into the story particularly impressive. Despite how old this is relative to our modern times (Keats died in 1821), it seems she was able to document close to every day of his life: when he wrote which poem and why; where he traveled; who he dined with; what his health was like at the moment. It helped that Keats left an extensive correspondence behind at his death.

I am so glad I saw this book on the shelf and read it. I rate it the full 5-stars. I’ll not read it again and it’s not a keeper. But learning about this little piece of poetic history has acted like a tonic in my reading life.

Book Review: The Pilgrim’s Progress

We started reading in this book, but…

The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan is a Christian classic novel/allegory that has been around since 1678 in part and 1684 in complete version. For some reason, while I knew about this for years, I never read it.

But a couple of months ago, while browsing my bookshelves for something to read, I found this. I suggested it to Lynda early this month and she agreed we should read this.

Let me tell you, this is a hard read! The subject matter is great; the language is archaic and quite difficult to read, especially aloud. It didn’t help that the book we had was a mass-market paperback from 1968 that fell apart less than halfway through. While we were out and about for a doctor’s appointment, Lynda suggested we buy a new copy rather than power through with the loose pages. So we bought a new one.

…it fell apart, given that it was 55 years old and cheaply made. So we switched to…

The problem was that the book divisions weren’t the same in the 1968 and the newer (2008 or later) book. Bunyan’s book has lots of marginal notes and scripture references. In the 1968 book, the marginal notes are printed as headings between paragraphs. In the new book they are in the margins. Once I was able to orient to the new system, the reading was definitely easier in the new.

…this newer book. Much easier to read (better font, cleaner pages).

For those who don’t know the story, the first part follows a man named Christian, who lives in the City of Destruction. He decides to go on “pilgrimage”—the allegorical word for he became a Christian. He “leaves” his wife and four sons for his journey. Along the way he encounters many problems. He walks with a huge burden on his back. He walks alone, though frequently encounters both those who would deter him from his goal and those who would help him to reach his goal, the Celestial City.

In the second part, Christian’s wife, Christiana, decides she has made a mistake by not going with her husband on pilgrimage. She leaves the City of Destruction with her sons and Mercy, a young woman from the town. Their journey is much different than Christian’s was. They are given a “conductor”—a man named Great-Heart who will help them on their way. Their party of seven (Christiana, Mercy, the four boys, and Great-Heart) heads on the journey. Their guide advises them where to go and protects them from many of the dangers. Their party swell with additional pilgrims.

Eventually they reach the river across-which is the Celestial City. One by one they receive a message via “post”, and are given the time when they must enter the river and cross to meet their king, the allegorical description of death.

As I said, the reading is difficult. Neither of our books had modernized text or punctuation. I did some modernization as I read, but it was difficult.

I’m not going to rate this classic. And, while I suspect I will never read it again, I won’t discard the new book. I’ll find a place for it on the shelf. But the older book is going into the recycling bin.

Book Review: Letters From Muskoka

The book is available in modern reprints. My copy was a free e-book of the original, out-of-copyright edition.

Some years back, after twenty years of searching, I finally “found” my maternal grandfather. I had a last name and diminutive first name, but no location. A few hints that my grandmother gave, along with DNA triangulation at 23andMe, and in August 2017 I finally confirmed Herbert Stanley “Bert” Foreman as the man, and his birthplace as Port Carling, Muskoka, Ontario, Canada.

The genealogy research went fast, as did finding cousins. The library at Port Carling was incredibly helpful with making copies of book pages for me. With the location being totally knew to me (now mainly a vacation area north of Toronto), I began to look for and acquire books about the area. The ones I got were available on line through Google Books as they were out of copyright. I downloaded four books, and the first one I read was Letters From Muskoka by “an Emigrant Lady”.

I read this several years ago, probably back in 2018, but, being somewhat less familiar with Google Books than I am now, I didn’t save it to my library there. Also, I find that I’m not as prompt at reviewing books I read as e-books, and hence I never reviewed it. This week, wanting to catch up on book reviews, I went looking for “that Muskoka book I read a few years ago” and didn’t find it. Fortunately, through a simple search I found it. In order to write a review of it, I had to give it a bit of a re-read. Mainly, I scrolled ahead to this haunting passage I remembered from the end of the main narrative:

I went into the Bush of Muskoka strong and healthy, full of life and energy, and fully as enthusiastic as the youngest of our party. I left it with hopes completely crushed, and with health so hopelessly shattered from hard work, unceasing anxiety and trouble of all kinds, that I am now a helpless invalid, entirely confined by the doctor’s orders to my bed and sofa, with not the remotest chance of ever leaving them for a more active life during the remainder of my days on earth.

What a sad commentary on her years there. She, a serviceman’s widow for fifteen years, and her adult children were Brits who were living in France when the Franco-Prussian War broke out. When the war ended in 1870, changes in the country made life there less attractive for these British expats. One daughter and family had emigrated to Muskoka, and most of the rest decided to follow.

When the book was first published in 1878 in England, the author was listed as “An Emigrant Lady”. Later editions identified her as Harriet Barbara (Mrs. Charles) Gerard King. She was a widow with four children, at least two adults. At the end of the war, they decided to emigrate to Canada to take up free land being offered in Muskoka. Harriet was 61 at this time.

They arrived in Muskoka, after a major ocean storm in transit, after train delays, after finding themselves without money, in fall of 1871. The hardships began almost immediately, and did not abate for the next four years. Here are other salient quotes from the book.

It was anguish to see your sisters and sister-in-law, so tenderly and delicately brought up, working harder by far than any of our servants in England or France.

We were rich in nothing but delusive hopes and expectations, doomed, like the glass basked…to be shattered and broken to pieces.

A portrait of Harriet, I suspect after she left Muskoka in 1876, more likely shortly before her death in 1885.

Normally I don’t have much sympathy for or interest in those who are, or think they are, part of the aristocracy. They have their good things in life and don’t need my sympathy. But it’s hard to read this and not have a little sympathy for the emigrant lady. In the last day or two, as I read on in the book, I learned that she was a writer and tried to bring income in by writing and submitting articles. At this, she was mostly unsuccessful.

The letters take up the bulk of the book, with a few ancillary sections. I’m not sure that I read beyond the letters. Mrs. King described in great detail the hardships in getting a farm cut out of the rocky woods. All family members saw their health deteriorate due to the hard work and the meagerness of the provisions.

The book did what I wanted it to do: help me to understand the area my long-lost grandfather came from. As I wrote this review, I can see I need to finish the last few short sections of the book. I’ll download it to my phone and begin reading it in the off moments. Then, when I’m sure I finished it, I have three other books about old Muskoka to read. So I’d better get on it.

Unless you have a connection to Muskoka, or you really, really like pioneer stories, there’s no point in reading this. For me, it was a great book. The detail and the quality of the writing make this a 5-star book—for me. For most people, it’s maybe a 3-star book. But, in the beauty of e-books, I’ll keep it in my library for a while.

Book Review: The Darwin Conspiracy

This is a novel that might appeal to some. The writing is good, but the plot suffers from needless complexity and, dare I say, some goofiness.

I’m not sure where we got it, but The Darwin Conspiracy by James Scott Bell has been in our house for a long time. I’ve been in writers conferences where Bell has been the keynote speaker or taught workshops, so I definitely wanted to read it.

It’s a novel, Bell’s first published novel, written in the 1990s when he was trying to transition from lawyer to writer. The plot is rather strange. It goes back and forth between the present day and times in the 19th century. Keeping them straight was difficult at first, easier at the end of the novel.

The premise is a document, called the Busby Manuscript. Sir Max Busby was the assumed name of a man who, as a boy, hated his father and killed him. He took on the name Max Busby and went to sea to avoid the law. The ship he sailed on was The Beagle, the same vessel on the same voyage that carried Charles Dawin on his famous round-the-world trip during which Darwin did the bulk of his formative research.

Busby sensed that the evolutionary theories that Dawin was just starting to develop would be disastrous to Christianity. Being an evil man, Busby wanted science to thrive and Christianity to suffer, and so egged Darwin on. As the story develops, Busby posed as an educated man (which he was not) and was with Darwin at every critical stage in Darwin’s work. Then he was with Darwin’s friends and every person who eventually touted the cause of evolution, right up to the Scopes Monkey Trial in 1925. Busby interacts with all the famous scientists and others who had a hand in either pushing evolution forward or fighting against it.

In order to accomplish this, Bell had to have Busby live to the age of 125+ years old. Not believable in the slightest, even in a novel where it is assumed you will suspend unbelief.

The book was complicated by 1) constant switching from present to 2) Busby writing his narrative in 1927 to 3) his days with Darwin and Darwin’s successors, a period of 90 years. Keeping these times frames straight was difficult, especially because often two were mixed in one chapter.

The novel was also complicated because Bell puts himself in it. He was the one who was given the Busby narrative by an old professor, only to lose it when the professor is killed, the police confiscate the narrative, and someone steals it from them. This whole scenario was, quite frankly, ridiculous. Having Geraldo Rivira make a cameo appearance was way over the top.

I rate this book just 3-stars. It would be two for the plot, but the writing is quite good and that pulls it up. But it is not a keeper. I don’t anticipate ever reading it again, nor recommending it to anyone else.

 

Book Review: Mr. Froude and Carlyle

This book claims Froude did a poor job on the bio he wrote of Carlyle, but could Froude be right and Wilson wrong?

I have been reading more and more and more books on my phone lately (my Nook having reached obsolescence a year ago). I’m always reading a print book, or two, but I enjoy the convenience of having the e-books available wherever I am.

One of these books I finished in May. Mr. Froude and Carlyle, by David Wilson. Published in 1898, seventeen years after Carlyle’s death, the book appears to have been written to counter the four-volume biography of Caryle that James Anthony Froude had written and published in the mid-1880s.

It seems that Froude, at least in Wilson’s mind, had been very hard on Carlyle. But that was only in relation to Carlyle’s wife, Jane. It seems that Wilson thought that Jane could do no wrong and Thomas no right whenever there was a dispute between them. Wilson didn’t like that. He took up each of those disputes and re-cast it as favorable to Thomas and negative to Jane.

I have not yet read Froude’s four-volume work. After having read Wilson’s book, I started on Froude’s but haven’t read very far into it yet. That Froude’s biography of Carlyle would be inaccurate is puzzling, since it was an authorized bio and Froude had access to all of both Thomas’s and Jane’s papers.

I found the book a bit comical. Wilson wrote it in a format something like this:

  • Froude wrote about this incident in 1848, indicating how Thomas treated Jane shabbily.
  • But I, Wilson, have looked into that incident and in fact it was Jane who was in the wrong.
  • How could Froude have been so far off the mark? He must have wanted to run Thomas down.
  • Oh, and Froude regularly redacted critical information from letters or journals. Shame on him.

I’m anxious to get further into Foude’s book to see if it’s as lopsided against Thomas as Wilson said. I began that book at Volume 3, because all of Wilson’s examples were in that time period or later. For the 60 pages I’ve read in it, I can find no fault.

This book by Wilson is something that would be of interest only to Carlyle scholars and amateur scholars, like me. It’s certainly not worth picking up and reading for anyone else.

Book Review: Life and Letters of Charles Darwin

Not a stellar book, but a good one.

Around twenty years ago, maybe a little longer, I discovered Project Gutenberg. Back in those dark ages, pre-Kindle, no one had yet manufactured and marketed a reliable and functional e-book reader. Creating digital copies of books back then was done using OCR scanning or, heaven forbid, retyping from print copies. But it worked. PG had, by the time I discovered it, a large library of digitized books. A whole library on your computer, at your fingertips! I was in heaven.

I downloaded a number of books in rich text format (Word format not being an option). One of those was The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Vol. 1. I loaded the RTF into Word and formatted it for compact printing but comfortable reading—a nice blend. I never printed it, however, not knowing when I might read it. In the last year I discovered a Kindle feature where you can upload any text file to your Kindle device. I tried that with several files, including this one.

A controversial figure to many, but certainly something worth knowing more about.

I wanted to read this because I’ve already read a fair amount about or by Darwin. I read Origin of Species about three years ago (reviewed on this blog). And many years ago I read Irving Stone’s The Origins. Plus I’ve read several other articles about him. So in May sometime, having finished other reading projects, I pulled this up on my phone’s Kindle app and began reading it. I set it down several times, finally getting into a rhythm of reading a good number of pages. I finished it about two weeks ago.

It’s a good book. Not stellar, but good. It was compiled by Darwin’s son, Francis Darwin. Volume 1 covers up to and including publishing The Origin of Species, but not his life afterwards. The book is more biography than it is letters. That was a downer, as I was looking forward more to letters than to biography. The bio portion was a little bit lackluster. Francis Darwin arranged this topically rather than chronologically. I generally prefer chronological biographies. So I found the biography portion generally uninteresting.

The letters were also arranged a little bit topically, though with a nod to chronology. The letters written from The Beagle, the boat Darwin sailed on his famous voyage around the world, were quite interesting. As were the letters in the years following that voyage.

The letters in the two decades between the voyage and publishing Darwin’s famous book were mostly good. Many included the scientific names of species Darwin was studying. Those were somewhat hard to read, but interesting if you could skim past all the names. All together, they told a story of a man who was sick most of his life, but still managed to get a fair amount of work done and publish things that the scientific community embraced, followed by the rest of the world.

This is a book I’m glad I read, but probably will never read again. I don’t remember if I downloaded and formatted Vol 2, but I’m not going to go looking for it right away on my computer. As for Vol 1, I give it 3 1/2 stars, marked down for the biology section, with the letters section not stellar enough to pull the whole book up to the 4-stars category.

Book Review: Eats, Shoots and Leaves

A cute title for a book on punctuation. Of interest to writers, but probably not many others.

I’m not sure where I picked up this little volume, Eats, Shoots and Leaves, by Lynne Truss. I think I won it at a writers conference. It’s a small hardback, 209 pages. What’s it about?

Punctuation.

The title comes from a punctuation error, though the author didn’t tell exactly where it happened. The writer, writing about panda bears, meant to write, “The panda eats shoots and leaves.” Alas, a pesky comma crept in, and it was printed “Eats, shoots and leaves.” The difference in meaning is startling, all from a misplaced comma.

Truss tells of several books on punctuation, going back to the 1700s.  She shows how acceptable punctuation came into use through what worked and what didn’t. Punctuation was for the purpose of giving readers clues as to when to take a breath, when to fully stop. It’s a British book, so deals mostly with the British way of punctuating. Truss does talk about the differences on the two side of the pond.

It’s a good book. Truss manages to make a boring subject quite entertaining. If you are a writer and need to get a better handle on punctuation, this should be helpful. It wasn’t so much for me. I can’t say that I learned much in it, other than something about how punctuation has changed through the years.

I give this 4-stars. It’s not a keeper, however. I’m either going to give it to someone at one of my writers groups, or put it in the donation pile.

Book Review: The Hogarth Letters

Not a keeper; only 2-stars; not recommended.

It’s difficult to remember where I picked up different books. Before embarking on this road trip, I searched my bookshelves for a book to take to read, something that looked interesting but was probably not a keeper. In the basement, in the area where we set up a bed for when needed when we have lots of company, I found a book titled The Hogarth Letters. I had no idea what it was about, when I got it, how new or old it was, but it sounded perfect. Upstairs and into my book bag it went.

It turned out to be something much different than I expected. I love reading letters (as regular readers of this blog will know), but it turned out this book wasn’t really letters. This was a publisher’s (Hogarth Publishing) stunt from the early 1930s. Twelve different people—writers, politicians, etc.—wrote fictitious letters to people. Not necessarily real people. What the “letters” were were essays disguised as letters. The subjects were of the authors’ own choosing, and the person behind the stunt—er, project, Hermione Lee, did an introduction.

Essays from Great Britain from the early 1930s. The Great Depression was on world-wide, or coming on. It was the time between the two world wars. Communism was on the rise. Some of the essays, such as the one by Viscount Cecil, dealt with disarmament. I read that one through and learned from it, though many of the references and circumstances were obscure in 2023. Still, it wasn’t bad. A couple of other letters/essays were to real people, such as Madan Blanchard, Virginia Wolfe, and W.B. Yeats, the poet. Others were to a fictitious person representing a class, such as an archbishop, a modern novelist, a young poet, a grandfather.

I began this book at the beginning, even though a book such as this could be read at any of the essays that seemed, from the title, most interesting. I read the first couple all the way through, but then I found them increasingly uninteresting. I started reading them, found myself skipping or just reading the first sentence in each paragraph. The last three or four essays I quit after getting halfway into them and finding myself not benefitting from the reading.

I plan on abandoning this book, but not quite yet. As I write this, I’m halfway into the letter to W.B. Yeats. I may finish it. I have six more essays to go, and I will at least start each of them and perhaps finish a couple.

Originally published in 1931 (my copy re-published in 1986), I can’t recommend this book. Perhaps I’ll feel differently if the last six letters/essays are better than the ones I’ve read. If I leave a rating somewhere, it will be 2-stars. Maybe they seemed interesting at that time, but almost 90 years later, not so much.

Nor is it a keeper. When we get home, it will go straight to the donation pile. And it goes into the category of, “Where did I get this book (for $3.00, apparently), and why did I think I needed it?”

Book Review: David Livingstone – His Life and Letters

I learned much from reading this bio or Livingstone. Quite a man.

Another book that I recently read, just like the last one I reviewed, was one I have wanted to read and not keep. Like the last one, it’s a biography and I don’t remember where I got this. Unlike the last one, I knew a little about the subject: David Livingstone.

I knew something about him from various sources over the years, as well as from a short biography I’d read about him and reviewed on this blog.

This book is titled David Livingstone: His Life and Letters. Written by George Seaver and published in 1957, at 633 pages, it is much different than the last one I read on him. That one was popular; this one scholarly. That one did little more than give the basics; this one get deeper into Livingstone’s life.

Yes, David Livingstone was a headstrong, complex person, and the life he lived has much controversy in it. He found Christ as his savior in England while a young man, and felt a call to preach, but as a missionary. He went to South Africa under the auspices of the London Missionary Society. Livingstone married Mary Moffet, the daughter of the head of that mission, Rev. Robert Moffet.

Immediately on Livingstone’s arrival in South America, the problems began. He wanted to push farther into the interior of Africa than the mission was prepared for or had the money to do. He tended to fight for what he wanted, writing letters to people back in England, going above Moffat’s head to enlist help. Eventually, they moved his family further inland. Only a year or two passed when Livingstone wanted to push even further. He had determined that the best way to promote missions in Africa was to promote trade that would bring more Europeans there.

He fought for this, eventually won, and made a transit of south-central Africa, first to the west, then back to his starting point, then to the east. This trip, immortalized in his journal and other writings, brought him instant fame in Great Britain, and he was mobbed when he returned to England on furlough.

I could go on and on about how Livingstone became so fixated on the commerce thing that he eventually became an explorer, not a missionary. But this is a book review, not a mini-biography. One thing this book did that the other didn’t was point out Livingstone’s faults and controversial traits. Here are a few of them.

  • The already mentioned headstrongness and tendency to think his way was the only way.
  • The dragging his wife along on some of his explorations, to the detriment of her fragile health.
  • His neglect of his children, who eventually were shipped back to England or Scotland and raised by others.
  • The fact that his opening the continent to more trade also opened it to more slave trading. Livingstone was strongly against the slave trade, already outlawed by England but not by Portugal and several Moslem nations. Unwittingly, Livingstone helped facilitate the vile practice he wanted to eradicate.
  • His essentially abandoning missions in favor of exploration.

As for the book, while being scholarly, it was actually easy reading.  A handful of maps included were copies of maps Livingstone drew while on his journeys. While the authenticity was nice, I would have preferred having modern maps that showed the places better.

The text was a mixture of narrative and Livingstone’s letters and other writings. But the letters weren’t quoted in their entirety, but rather in limited extracts. As one who likes to read letters, this was a negative. Because of the length and limited daily reading time, it took me about two months to read it.

I give the book 4-stars, one star lost for how the letters were handled, the lack of readable maps, and…I don’t know, a sense that despite its comprehensive nature, at the end of the reading I felt like something was missing, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It’s well worth reading, however, if you can find it. I suspect other semi-scholarly biographies or David Livingstone are out there and would be better worth your time and money.

This is not a keeper. I wouldn’t mind reading more about the famous explorer one of these days, and even some of his own writings. But I won’t ever re-read this one. Into the donate/sale pile it goes.

Book Review: Francis Bacon: The Temper of a Man

Once again, in the spirit of dis-accumulation, I picked a book to read that I wanted to read, but didn’t think I would keep. So I picked “Francis Bacon: The Temper of a Man”, by Katherine Drinker Bowen. Published in 1963, the

The book is 50 years old and in good condition. It’s also a good, informative read. Alas, it’s not a keeper.

book I have may be a first edition. I’m not sure where I got this book. It may be one my dad picked up at a flea market, though there’s no sales sticker on it.

I must first say that, before reading this book, I knew almost nothing about Francis Bacon. I would have called him Sir Francis Bacon, noting either knighthood or respect, for that’s how I’ve heard him described over the years. But why was he famous? What did he do in England to acquire such fame?

I remember he was discussed in a book I read, a book about escape from POW camps during WW2. The POWs argued about something Bacon allegedly said or wrote. From this, I got the impression that Bacon was a writer and philosopher of sorts. But I knew nothing that he wrote, nothing that he said, nothing about his life and work.

This book, described by the author as an introduction to the man, was an easy, relatively short read at 236 pages. It showed Bacon as a loyal monarchist during the days of Queen Elizabeth 1st and King James 1st. He slowly rose in government service, through the law and fawning over the monarchs, but not as quickly as he wanted. He was constantly thwarted by one particular rival, Sir Edward Coke. The two vied for the same positions, the favor of the same monarchs and nobles, and Coke almost always won the day. Bacon, in consequence, would retreat to his abodes and write: sometimes on the law, sometimes on science, sometimes on politics or national policy.

His family was well placed, his father having been Lord Chancellor for Queen Elizabeth. I don’t really understand what that position is, but it was pretty high up in the government. Bacon got the short end of his father’s bequests upon the elder’s death, as most of the estate went to children by the elder Bacon’s first wife, Sir Francis having been born to the second wife. As a result, and due to his inability to adjust his lifestyle to his financial circumstances, was constantly in debt.

Due to losing so often to Coke, Bacon had lots of time to write. I won’t list his publications here. They include essays and legal treatises. None of them have I read, but after reading this book want to.

And that’s the measure of a biography, isn’t it? Does it spur you on to want to know more about the subject, to read his works? This biography has done that. I don’t think I have any of Bacon’s works in the house, but given that they are all out of copyright, I should be able to find them available on the internet. I bet I can also find a more complete biography from before 1925.

Now, the question is, how do I rate this book, and do I keep it? I rate it 5-stars, which is a rarity for me. I base that ranking on its brevity and ease to read, along with how it has caused me to want to know more. But it is not a keeper. I simply have too many books, and need to reduce my possessions. So onto the donate/sales shelf it goes. But I am very glad that I had it and

read it.