but strangely short--given the first book's gargantuan size. The book also seems as tho' it didn't have Herbert's full attention. He seemed tacitly to admit this once when he said that "parts of Children of Dune were written before Dune was finished." It also suffers from the fact that it was first serialized in a SF magazine. It seems as tho' it were "remixed" after the fact.

Although Herbert continues to use the Prophet Mohammad's life as a scaffolding for his story, he departs widely from the Koran's account while still retaining an essentially Arab flavor to the story. (These books are, by the way, incredibly popular in the Muslim world.)

Those minor criticims aside, the story continues towards its headlong conclusion in the Golden Path. To say much more would spoil it for the uninitiated. If you liked Dune, read this one just to get to "Children" and, the piece de resistance, "God Emperor of Dune" where Herbert's mastery becomes complete and the Golden Path is revealed to us in all its terrible majesty.

The last two books before cancer and grief killed him were almost after thoughts. After Leto II, what was there to say?

...a Python fan since about twelve, I vividly remember this film coming out when I was thirteen or so. I loved it. It's great that it has not only held up but, like fine wine, it has gotten better with age. Maybe Terry Gilliam's right when he says, in one of the commentaries, that, today, comedy's standard is so low that "our crap seems good no." But it reveals their genius in so many ways. It reveals a confidence they clearly didn't feel--as tho' they'd gotten their sea legs--in the first two efforts. Though "Brian" is their supreme achievement, I have to say that this film must be placed ahead of "Holy Grail"--which given its budget looks distincly like badly shot TV. Hysterically funny, but the budget limits are are even more glaring in a high res medium like DVD.

In "Meaning of Life" the entire cast are masters of the medium (something Cleese proved independently in "A Fish Called Wanda") and they use their skills, rising even to lyrical heights (Eric Idle's paen to the universe in "Live Organ Transplants"). And the effects are more hysterical twenty years later.

This movie is also remarkable for the rather bitter satire of American pop culture. Heretofore, the Python's had stayed within the classic tradition of British comedy--filled with whimsy and just plain silliness and the class structure. American humor is generally either observational or political--and these days it almost entirely the latter. Even the masters of observation, Goldberg and Carlin, have abandoned it for bitter political diatribes attacking former fans like myself in the basest terms because out political beliefs differ.

And it follows, as it should, that the movie's best skits are the ones true to their tradition. George Harrison once called Python the continuation of the Beatles (to the point of chipping in $8M for distribution and advertising for "Brian"!). And, especially in the all too brief Gilliam animations, this is completely accurate. Without being at all derivative, they capture the whimisical sensibility the Beatles had updated and transformed and ran with it.

One draw back is the rather low-rent 5.1 remix. I've other films--e.g. the Godfather films--which are older than have far better jobs. So don't expect much. In fact, you might even consider using the 2CH option as the remixing engineer makes little use of the rear speakers.

That gentle bitch aside, the deleted scenes are mixed (why on Earth Jones thought anyone would want to see more of Mr. Creosote is beyond me?) and clearly wisely hit the cutting room floor (especially the horrendously unfunny Martin Luther skit), but some the commentary by Jones and Gilliam--clearly done at different times and mixed--is interesting most especially for the bitterness of Gilliam's attitude. It has been so on the two preceding films, but it's much more intense on this one.

The brief interview segments shows the group rivalry is still a hot issue in the guys' psyches, nearly twenty years after Graham Chapman's tragic death ended the group; they are still bickering. Gilliam's comments about Cleese are particularly acid; Cleese does he usual job of insulting nearly everyone. He is returned the favor by the rest of the group, tho' Jones slyly does it with the most class and thus does it the best. Cleese, after all, easily slips into insufferable. Hence his brilliance as Basil Fawlty.

A reluctant four star due only to the ****-poor 5.1 remix. The studio, surprise, surprise, didn't want to spend any extra money getting a good one.

The movie itself: 5 stars.

My 4 1/2 year old daughter walked in and out of the room as I was watching "Das Boot." In the climactic scene in which British bombers spread death and destruction in the LaRochelle U-boat yards, the movie ends with Werner, the reporter on the

U-boat's mission--find's the ship's Captain played by Jurgen Prochnow dying at dockside, watching his ship slowly sink. My daughter looked at the dead German captain and asked me, "Is he dead, Daddy? Is he going to Heaven? Is he going to God?"

And I couldn't answer her at first. All I could manage was, "I'm not sure, honey. He was a servant of evil." THAT is how powerful this movie, in actuality a German mini-series, actually is. This movie is so intense, the actors so brilliant at conveying emotions that can be understood without any language that I was easily lost in the movie. Excepting Peter Jackson's work, never have been so mesmerized by FIVE hour film. Tho' he long ago went Hollywood (e.g. the unfairly maligned Planet of the Apes remake), as the Amazon reviewer notes he still, with $100M budgets has never come close to his submarine masterpiece.

From the claustrophic recontruction of the ship, to the grim tension in what seems like their triumphant escape, we are presented not with cardboard cut outs, not with virtuous, fearless imaginings, but real men, real boys being blown to pieces and dying.

When Werner leaves the bombproof shelters to search for the Captain we are slammed with the war's reality as most of the crew is dead, strewn about in the random anarchy of destruction.

But they were NAZI's! My conscience screams. Some were. The First Officer is such a man. There were inevitably others. But most were simply men who were ordered to war by their country, as Joe Galloway wrote about America's Vietnam Vets in
"We Were Soldiers." And they went.

One of the chiefest difference is the attitude with which they went to war. They went to war ith the timeless energy of youthful idealism only to learn that heroism is paid for in blood and sanity.

As Americans did with Japanese shipping, these German submariners wrought tremendous death and terror amongst Allied shipping & crews and came within an ace of starving Britain into peace with Hitler. For this achievement they paid with the highest death rate of any service in any nation's military during World War II. Seventy-five percent of German submariners lie on the bottom of the ocean. 30,000 of 40,000 as the movie's preface tells us.

They had wives, children, girlfriends, families. It is easy to cheer on Tom Hank's sqaud in "Private Ryan" as they slaughter German troops. In the Anglo-Saxon world, at least, we've reveled, cinematically in the German war machine's total annihilation for sixty years. It is also a cornerstone of Russian patriotism; as the greatest victims of Hitler, it well should be! After this full version of "Das Boot" no one can ever look at the ordinary German serviceman again.

He was no Nazi thug--on average. Did he serve evil? Yes. And for that service Germany paid in fire and blood and occupation for her sins. Perhaps they can never be, as they should not be, erased from Man's memory.

But the actions of a fraction of 15,000,000 German soldiers at most can erase the precious ordinariness of the ordinary German soldier. Cannot change, as Hardy put it in a famous poem, the fact that if you'd met the German you just killed in a bar, you'd probably have bought him a drink.

As John Keegan so poignantly reminds us in his "The First World War," the German soldiers and sailors were fighting for their lives too. As with the men on the Wall in DC, these men were sons, brothers, fathers, husbands and friends. We would be bereft of all feeling if we withheld some portion of pity from them.

But we continually bump against this question: Can a servant of Hitler, however much against his will, however much contempt he carried for Hitler's minion Goering (even the Captain engages in brutally accurate observations on the procine slug), still go to Heaven?

My heart feels something of chill but the verdict must be no. I cannot imagine that any just God will allow servants of men such as Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Ho, however passive was their service, to go unpunished. They were willing to fight to place the planet in Hitler's control; to do that they had to be willing to turn their eyes from the real nature of the National Socialist regime.

As deeply as I feel the pathos of seeing so many dead boys and men, to see so much human life wasted, to see so many future hopes and dreams smashed to pulp, I cannot extend my sympathy to them. I had a deep and long friendship with someone who grew up Nazi Germany and she left me no doubt as to the insane nature of the regime and the enthusiam with which many of its goals were supported. And the ones that weren't were simply ignored.

And that fatal choice condemns not only those 40,000 U-boat men but every other man who served in Hitler's legions whether they committed war crimes or not. In an illegal war, all actions by the attacking force are committing war crimes.

So, no, honey, he can't go to God. But I can't speak for Him, I speak only for myself. Germany has paid in blood, treasure,
destruction and pain for her sins. But those who died in service of evil can no longer answer to us. We can only acknowledge the humanity they willingly gave away for a revenge unjust and a plan for the world's suffering exceeded only by Stalin.

(Two notes: the English dubbed soundtrack clashes hilariously with the subtitles. Unless you breakout in hives when you watch subtitles, I HIGHLY suggest watching it in the original German. The English version has been sanitized of its original Teutonic earthiness of phrase. Otherwise much of the diginitas of the movie is lost. Unfortunately and strangely, there's not "features" whatsoever; nor are there any commentaries.)

Unique, wonderful, hilarious.

"The Blues Brothers" holds up even better than one might have hoped. And that's a beautiful thing for one of the most unique movies ever made. Conceived, as Belushi once put it, as a show case for African-American music, the movie is exactly that and so much more.

I was moved to watch the "Shake Your Tail Feather" scene due to Ray Charles' recent death. The performance is so wonderful, so full of life; we have lost a true national treasure. But his amazing performance for the movie will live on forever. The soundtrack's 5.1 remix (including the reintegration of old footage cut from a preview at the Picwood Theater in LA. According to Landis, in the DVD's liner notes, the movie distributors complained no white people would see the movie!) is simply amazing. Even on my bargain set, it is crisp, pure and clean and is probably my candidate for best sound DVD ever. Landis again demonstrates his technical mastery, understanding of technology and choice of brilliant helpmates.

As the same Landis once put it, "Where else can a white kid see Cab Calloway, John Lee Hooker and James Brown in the same two hours?" He left out Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin as well as studio legends Steve "The Colonel" Cropper (who almost single-handed reintroduced cocaine to Hollywood, the number of people who began their addictions under his tutelage is frightening but no names here; you'll have to look it up yourself); and bass legend "Duck" Dunn, one of the greatest bassists of all times (sorry, Duck, my man, even you have to bow, with every other bassist, to Geddy Lee). Normally invisible, we get to see and here the Blues Brothers' amazing band. These studio legends get there fifteen minutes, often to hilarious effect. Willie "Too-Bit" Hall, the drummer even shows really comic talent, as does Dunn and "Mr. Fabulous," the horn man.

The movie also preserves the now destroyed Maxwell Street, one of the great centers of African-American music and R&B and one of the seedbeds of rock n roll. This is the only place anyone can see Maxwell Street in its prime. In a sense the movie is also a historical document, preserving those people and places who have left us.

The plot is almost irrelevant, beside the almost hysterical comedy and stunning musical performances (Calloway and Franklin never did BETTER jobs on their two signature classics), but there is a story there. The cameos are hilarious as well, from Carrie Fischer (who has said she quit coke because Belushi, on set, one day pointed at her and said, "You're becoming just like me." On that note, Robin Williams also says his visit to Belushi on his ultimate night helped him give up the Life that took his friend) and the Keystone Nazis the Boys have to avoid in their quest to save their childhood home, a dilapidate orphanage on Chicago's South side. The "Flight of the Pinto" scene is not to be missed. And be sure to listen for the tell-tale mating call of a most un-endangered species, "hut-hut-hut."
A movie for the ages. It also highlights the bitter tragedy of Belushi's self-destruction. One can only imagine what a sobered and cleaned-up Belushi could do when he did this movie whilst doing 4 grams of coke a day, dropping acid, downers, booze, marijuana (all of this is in Boobward's sensationalist "biography" of Belushi called "Wired"). Unlike other famous drug addicts and alcoholic (Monroe, Presley, Dean) Belushi's fortunately has been taken as a warning sign of Hollywood excess and hasn't lead to his apotheosis.

Despite his tragic end, the movie is one of the few that, no matter my troubles I can put this movie in the DVD player and know I will be smiling in mere minutes. As I smile now, writing this.

Every American teenager should see this simply for the musical numbers alone. The word classic is misused as often as the word "hero" these days, but it's not misused here. What could have been the umpteenth bad iteration of "Animal House" instead attained the temporary immortality of the true classic. Belushi's been gone for more than twenty years now, but the brilliant John, the hilarious John, the gifted performer John Belushi will live on forever.

And, wherever you are John that has to make you smile.

Only the Tolkein reference by Prof. Robert Foster ("The Complete Guide to Middle Earth") supasses it in scope, erudition and pure delight. That having been said, this book was one of my most treasured, "read till my fingers bled" books. It had so much information--obviously culled from Herbert's own files, which he slyly hints at in the introduction whilst reserving all final answers to himself--on the Dune universe it was a pleasure itself.

It is not a dry, academic exercise, but a living appreciation of the book and the complexity of the universe it unfolds. So much information is provided here on many things that are mere hints or receive barely mention in the books are explained as thoroughly as the Britannica (and often much better written!).

My tragedy is that the book disappeared on a move (along with every Dune book of which I had multiple copies, in hard, trade and mass-market). It simply vanished. I still miss that book to this day. With all the renewed interest in Dune, with the specatular "Children of Dune" mini-series and the bestselling "prequels" of the Younger Herbert, it stuns me that Berkeley hasn't reprinted this book. Even a mass-market (tho' of course it should be trade) would be great.

But I seem to be hoping in vain. The Dune revival has been going on for several years now and nary a peep about a reprint. I near despair. The wife would have much more than a coniption fit if I spend $50 on a fifteen year old paperback, so I guess I'm hosed.

For the Dune scholar the book is indispensable and I wish I had my copy in my hand (with each of my favorite subjects tabbed, with my favorite passages highlighted--I'd planned a Dune role playing game during the days before the GUI allowed role-playing games to become what they always could).

If you've got this book, guard it like gold, or, better yet, have it bound and keep in mylar.

See, Berkeley, please hear my prayer: REPRINT THIS BOOK!!!!

(Oh yeah, and, while I'm asking, how 'bout a God Emperor of Dune mini, hunh?)

As a coda: my copy of the Dune Encylcopedia was with my ancient, book club edition of God Emperor which I recently found in our town's annual library sale. I knew it was mine by the Boris Vallejo "Ex Libris" sticker. So somebody, somewhere has my books!

Besides a vicious, wholly inaccurate, hateful polemic by Edward Said, long time member of a Palestinian terrorist organization and friend of that organizer of genocide, Abu Ammar (Yassir Arafat's criminal alias), and so aptly labelled as the "Professor of Terror" against Samuel Huntington. As usual, Said never lets a fact get in the way of his hatred for all things Western and American. And this nutcase is a professor at Columbia. Yet another demonstration of the cesspool into which American Academe has fallen.

If Islamophobia exists at all it is because, for thirteen hundred years, Muslims have attacked, enslaved, invaded, occupied, raped, robbed and tried to conquer Christians and the West (the Turks last laid siege to Vienna in 1683!). For over a century they occupied the Alpine passes between France and Italy murdering and robbing Christian pilgrims to the Eternal City.

They invaded France in 732, only to be crushed by Charles Martel (Charlemagne's grandfather, the latter also began the "Reconquista" with his invasion and liberation of Catalonia from the Muslim yoke). So if there IS "Islamphobia" it because of thireen centuries of nearly constant Muslim attacks against the West and Christians.

(For much more detail on the consequences of Islamic hatred and attacks on Medieval Europe, see Henri Pirenne's incomparable "Economic and Social History of Medieval Europe; wherein Pirenne proves it was the Muslims who caused the Dark Ages by destroying the Medittarranean economy that had survived Rome's Western collapse until the eight century).

Ask Mr. Said, an Arab Christian, why he and the vast majority of Arab Christians (excepting the Egyptian Copts, protected by the Mubarak regime) have left the Arab world for Europe and the US. Guess life must really be hell in the Arab world for Christians if they have to flee and endure the Arab "hating" West.

In this book we are presented with nothing more than an apology for terror and genocide couched in the modern Western idiom of victimology and ethnic grievance groups (e.g. the viciously racist Mexican-American hate group Mecha). And remember, the Crusades were stimulated by Muslim atrocities against Christian in the Holy Land.

But the biggest problem is that the book is essentially "desinformatzia", the KGB coined term for disinformation (e.g. the rumor planted in an obscure Turkish magazine that AIDS had been created by the CIA; to this day many Muslims believe this).

The book's thesis is entirely backwards. There is no "hatred" toward Muslims in the West. (The French situation is unique because Muslims now make up 10% of the Gallic population which agitates traditional French anti-semitism, in the broadest sense).

The hatred is FROM the fundamentalist/Islamist Muslims. And what else SHOULD we call people who call themselves by these labels?

Besides that, Muslims' holy book itself, unlike the Gospels, calls for all out and total war against the "Hosue of War" (i.e. the non-Islamic World) until that world converts to Islam or accepts Islamic rule and become people who have no political, judicial or human rights(no non-muslim can testify in a Muslim court and no Muslim woman's testimony is accepted against a Muslim male's).

Another of the endless examples of Arab hatred of Christians, when Phillip III of Spain expelled the superficially and forcibly Christianized Arabs from Spain in 1609, a majority fled to North Africa where the Muslims there murdered large numbers and allowed large numbers to die of want and privation because they had (been forced it should be remembered) to apostasize from Islam by the Spanish Monarchy. No matter. They were Muslims who'd converted to Christianity. They, in the eyes of the Magreb Arabs, had committed the ultimate sin and they were murdered and enslaved and starved to death for it.

But the real problem is the fact that Islamists hate the West because of our liberty, religious toleration and our treatment of women as human beings.

Even in relatively civilized Muslim countries such as Jordan, women are still murdered by their families for being raped (though for accuracy's sake, this is NOT a universal Muslim or Arab custom, just as female genital mutilation is not universal, or limited to, Egypt or Africa). Such women are often housed in jails to protect them from their OWN families.

And, lastly, it was NOT fanatic Christians who flew airplanes into Al-Azhar Mosque/University or the biggest office building or Mubarak's residence or the Egyptian Parliament in Cairo or the Grand Mosque in Mekkah. Yet this book would, in its flood of unproven generalizations, have you believe that the attacks were actually the fault of the "evil" West! Rather than Muslims who murdered thousands with prayers on their lips.

The usual "US support for Israel" is trotted out ad nauseum (the disgusting supporter of murdering babies, Said, has made a career of anti-Americanism and anti-Jewish hate) as the justification for the murders of thousands of non-Muslims. His "denunciations" of terror ring about as true as another liar's claim about the owner of a certain blue dress.

As Bibi Netanyahu (a man who has fought and personally suffered loss at the hands of "peace-loving" Muslims) so eloquently put it: The Islamists don't hate the West because of Israel, the hate Israel because it's Western. There is only ONE moral choice and that's supporting Israel against the gang of thugs committing genocide against the Jewish state.

Finally, Gallup polling has shown that 90%+ of Palestinians find murdering Israeli babies perfectly acceptable. What more proof do you need that there's no reason to concoct an Islamic enemy. You need only visit New York City and look at the giant whole in the ground to tell you who the real villain is.

Even if only ten percent of Muslims (that's 90 million people; thankfully there are only 900 million Muslims, 50% less than the number of Roman Catholics whose faith is growing, again thankfully, far faster than Islam) are "bin Ladenized" it's appalling. There is no ten percent of Americans with similar views about Muslims. And...

...its just that simple.

Fortunately, a PH.d is not required to both enjoy and be educated by the Durants monumental achievement. They are the authors who literally built the Simon & Schuster company. (I hope Carly Simon sends flowers to their graves every year as they largely generated her families fortune!)

It is important to remember that Will Durant was an experimental academic himself (c.f. the "Ferrer School"); and he knew that nothing was so stupid that it could not be found in Academe or academics. He himself is amazingly free of this crippling disease of "institutional" scholar an expert in philosophy as well as history. He was born in 1885, and educated at a time when Truth was still a concept (self-serving misreadings of Nietzche aside) and historians were unafraid to voice opinions other than one's attacking anything and everything not conforming the usual left-wing fad of the moment.

The aesthetic is indeed stunning. The flow or eloquence is rarely interuppted over nearly 70,000 pages of written text. Of course mistakes of detail abound. As I've said in other reviews, the biggest problem area is that of the military. Too often the Durants take, especially ancient, but also more recent military histories at face value. This was due to two reasons: little interest in detailed military history and preference for things "cultural." And sensing their weakness in battle narratives (as opposed to say Keegan or Tuchman or Gibbon), they are largely absent; the concentration is on their causes and effects; the effects of battles nearly always being ephemeral.

To condemn them for "lack of perspective" or "bias" is to reveal one's own. Unlike some reviews, the Durants made every effort to balance controversies by offering both sides. If they drew a conclusion contrary to your sacred cow, it is not an indicator of bias or error (much tho' the Left attempts to conflate the two).

In certain obviously indefensible activities (the Spanish Inquisition, the genocide of Jews before the First Crusade, the Church's deepfrying heretics, Louis XIV's brutal expulsion of the French protestants (Huguenot, a corruption of a German word, "eidgenossen") the Durants' condemn it with the precision of Gibbon and the moral outrage of Barbara Tuchman or Robert Conquest.

Somethings are evil and can never be anything else. To forget that is to invite the next generations of Lenins, Stalins or Hitlers.

The Durants understood the role "bias" far better than a thousand puerile academic critiques (tho' I realize that is largely a redundant remark) and compensated for it by the effort as well as their method of "integral history" which seeks to weave the entire history of European civilization into one seamless, if not stream of conscious, narrative flow.

It succeeds brilliantly and one finds it difficult to believe that any other such "generalists"--historians these days tending to bury into the infinitesimal and cherish minutiae, thus condemning themselves to present and future obloquy--will flash so brilliant across the literary heavens any time soon.

You should always check for youself if you have doubt. The Durants are almost always right and the mistakes are those of haste or, perhaps, the preference (or distaste) for the particular subject. (It is, for instance, difficult to feel much but revulsion for Charles V and his son Philip II and their policies of tyranny, blood and bigotry).

Read with a mind open to learning, not with crosshairs seeking weakness to exploit.

Lyricism or overarching beauty has rarely been amongst Rush's creative goals and their oeuvre reflects this. But this album abandons that stricture almost completely.

The title track nears splendor. Listening to it on airplane that was taking off, I was nearly blown away. Geddy's voice is clear, ringing. Alex's guitar is shimmering and bright (to borrow a phrase from another Anglo-Saxon band). The fantastic interweaving of bass and drums is still there.

The polyphony that so marked "Signals," "Grace Under Pressure" and "Hold Your Fire" is backburnered. While in now way "add-ons" to the "orginial" music (whatever thatis supposed to mean), the synthesizers are more complementary than integral. The music would have been just as beautiful if done acoustically.

Oddly enough, this was the last tour I went to. With Alex up on felony charges, we haven't bought tickets this time. I'm afraid if I do and he's unable to make the shows, the promoters and management will say, hey, "You bought 'em knowing the risk; no refund!" And here in the Vegas Valley, we have the highest ticket prices in the world! Hopefully, the whole mess'll straigthen out and we'll get to see them.

This album represents the last excellent studio efforts on my favorite band's part these last fifteen years. Obviously Neil's tragedies clearly impacted the band's quality as well as quantity.

"Roll the Bones" had a few bright spots, "Counterparts" and "Test for Echo" were simply forgettable. Only with "Vapor Trails" has their aesthetic moved closer to something I can identify with--tho' I find the live performances on RIR to be better than the studio versions--still too muddy (the musical flavor of color these last ten years or so)for me, "...Trails" at least shows they've come back to life. The magnificent "Rush in Rio" should have put any rumors of Rush's demises firmly to rest (at least from creative exhaustion).

But the boys have always said they make music for themselves; if no one else likes it, the hell with it. And that attitude is the reason Rush has, with two and a half exceptions, remained one of the most creative and most popular arena acts in North America.

BTW: the reviewer's grammar indicates a Brit. Apparently, Ms. Williams is unaware of "affirmative action." This is the subject that Neil was sp brilliantly satirizing in tje marvelously clear, easily understood "Trees" (one of their many masterpieces). A case of cultural ignorance we can forgive her for. (Though we probably shouldn't; everywhere it's been tried racial quotas--the Left's euphemism is "affirmative action" have utterly failed from India to Indiana).

But the album is as focused and tight as "Power Windows" and avoids the, at times, meandering musically and lyrically of "Hold Your Fire."

If you're just being introduced to Rush, this would be an excellent work.

...was Simon and Schuster. It was the Durants' 11 volume, bestselling series that put Simon and Schuster on the map, making it one of the biggest publishing houses in the US.

It's impossible to find an American library that doesn't have at least one or two of "the Story of Civilization" and more likely has the whole set.

So I'm surprised that the entire 11 volumes aren't as cherished in the rest of the Anglo-Saxon world as they are in the US. After all, the Durants Anglophilia is undisguised (not that they let this affect their judgement).

In many ways, they were the last of a breed. Born and raised in a time when the echoes of the great Catholic-Protestant struggle had not yet vanished, the Catholic-raised Will and the Jewish "Ariel" (nee, Ida Kaufmann) don't allow their prejudices to get in the way of the truth (and admit it when they can't separate the two; how many contemporary historians would do that? Plagirism, perhaps? I'm sure Doris Kearns Goodwin and the late Steven Ambrose could tell us...).

And, I can't go without mention the beauty of the language. The Durants clearly loved languages, the lovingly quote long passages of, especially, French, Italian, and Latin (which they fortunately translate!).

Will Durant represents an archetype that is extinct: the gentleman scholar who pursued knowledge to enlarge his understanding of Man and to spread the amazing story of our civilizations rise from "mudhuts on the Rhine" to the greatest, wealthiest and most powerful in history--all without the almost unconscious prejudice which mars many other historians of their generation (e.g. the chest-thumping nationalism of the Germans).

The books aren't perfect. Errors are made (in a work of over 10,000 pages it would be impossible not to!). Older naming conventions are still there. The most obvious to early 21st century eyes are the terms "Mohammedan" and "Mohammedism" instead of Muslim and Islam. This was how Muslims were quite commonly referred until recently. It derives from the ancient confusion of Christians about exactly what Islamic beliefs were. The assumption of an analogous role to Christ's for Mohammad is not so farfetched. If you are a Muslim, don't let this small matter of nomenclature put you off. The Durants devote large sections to Islamic Civilization and frankly admit with the pendulum had swung the other way (briefly tho' it was).

All books reccomended with high praise. They stand on their own as well as making a coherent series.

I'm rereading "The Age of Reason Begins" for little more reason than the beauty of the prose. Other than Gibbon, how many other historians are read simply for the art of their words?

No hands? I didn't think so....

(Still, it is funny to think that Carly Simon's inherited millions derive largely from the Durants' work...)

...there's little to nothing any review can add to this legendary release. Along with Sgt Peppers, Zep 4 & Physical Graffiti, Rush's 2112, the Who's Who's Next, this album represents the pinnacle of a band, indeed, a genre's musical ambition and accomplishment.

Produced by Alan Parson's (yes THAT Alan Parson's) the technical precision is simply amazing considering they were working with the most primitive of ANALOG synths (without the financing of Led Zeppelin it should be remembered when thinking of the synthetic strings on "Kashmir") and sequencers and 8 track recorders. Technically it is every bit as stunning as Sgt Pepper and Jimmy Page's legendary production work on Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti.

This album has been on the charts the longest in history (it passed up Carol King's "Tapestry" when the latter fell off the charts, finally, about ten years ago).

Listen to the music and you'll realize why this LP has been on story shelves--thru every format change, if you're old enough you'll recall the horror of 8-tracks and I recall my Dad's joy when he got one of the first car units--for four decades.

One word of warning: Don't play "Great Gig in the Sky" too loud. It's the only track on the album capable of annoying the neighbors.