Though I daresay that Mrs Steichen and I would vary greatly in both approach and emphasis, there are certain points she sets forth which are valid and basically well reported - for example, the use of Wiccan rituals by women religious being detrimental to the spiritual life, and the distortion in values that can arise from exagerrated feminism. I would agree, as well, with some (emphasis on 'some') of her assessments of particular feminist 'voices' to which she refers. Yet the journalist, who I have no doubt accurately reported some of the rituals she observed, takes a back seat to one whose highly conservative agenda brands everyone with whom she agrees with the 'demonic' iron.

For example, Steichen refers to various theologians (among them Raymond Brown and Joseph Fitzmyer, who were amongst the 20th century's best RC scripture scholars, and Karl Rahner) in the same breath as those with Wiccan emphases - and the result is so inaccurate as to be nearly laughable. Raymond Brown wrote an entire book affirming the virginal conception and bodily resurrection of Christ, with footnotes to Vatican documents on many a page, yet Steichen makes it appear that he is one of a crowd who denies these doctrines. One wonders if Steichen has actually read the works of these theologians - and, if so, if she has the sophistication to understand their analyses.

I am acquainted with the writings of some of the women with whom Steichen takes issue, and, in many cases, find them equally exasperating. Yet there is no distinction here as well. I have little patience with the feminism of Joan Chittister, for example, yet have heard her speak of the importance of the Benedictine tradition of liturgical prayer - a far cry from pagan rituals.

Steichen repeatedly refers to the collapse of the "North American" Church, and is quick to note when one who is a citizen of another land, or even foreign born, is propagating the errors she sees. It becomes highly annoying, with an effect of such a narrow view that the thesis seems to be 'the US Church would be fine were it not for these European influences' (John Paul II and Cardinal Ratzinger apparently being exceptions.) In my observation, a great many liturgical abuses and much of the deterioration in women's communities stemmed precisely from a distorted view of 'acculturation,' and an attitude that emphasis (for example) on nuns' professional achievement rather than the life of prayer was 'more American.' It is unfortunate that she does not treat of this, for it has had far more devastating effects than New Age gnosticism.

For one so devout, Steichen seems to give undue credit to the powers of evil. The idea that a curse by women who worship some sort of wicked goddess caused the defeat of a proposal by Jesse Helms (who, I believe, holds some views which would not be in accord with RC positions...) was bizarre. Steichen goes far beyond pointing out errors, to a worldview where nuns seem to be descending into witchcraft and thereby summoning evil powers.

Steichen's writing style is professional and engaging, which makes this book all the more dangerous. It seems such thorough reporting that, taken at face value, unsuspecting readers may view the works of notable theologians as heretical. There is no balance. One receives the erroneous impression that nuns would remain loyal daughters of the Church had they not obtained theological education.

Pearl Buck attempts to set across several themes - ties to country and to family, wisdom somehow being passed down from the ancestors, some sort of odd idea of the sisterhood of women, and the beauty of first love that endures. Unfortunately, the result is a muddle, and, by the end of the book's first third, one may find oneself yawning at the 'voice' of a middle aged woman droning on and on about how wonderful her sex life has been.

Elizabeth, our heroine and narrator, extols the beauty of nature constantly - whether it is to Vermont or Peking to which she is referring - and there is some naturalness in her vivid descriptions of sunrises and ewe lambs chewing the grass. Otherwise, she seems unreal - a vague woman who seems to think herself hugely wise.

The situations and dialogue are sadly artificial. Elizabeth's sermons to her son make her sound more like an ancient sage than a mother; then, when she fears that Rennie cannot love a girl whose heart can 'only hold one cup' (this, apparently, was confirmed when Elizabeth met and judged her equally one-cup mother), she suddenly shifts loyalties and, with the sisterhood of women coming first, breaks her son's romance lest the girl not be 'protected.' Quite dramatic - and totally out of order for two teenagers having a brief romance while the girl is in Vermont for the summer.

The influence of ancestors is always appearing - and shifting. Rennie, Elizabeth's son, first looks like Gerald, then his mother, then has a Scots rather than a Chinese profile - and his perpetually changing is accompanied by an apparently inherited wisdom. At 17, he is an impeccable son and student, but still has some roughness around the edges. By the advanced age of 19, he is a mature sage, the immaturity vanished, whether through ancestral wisdom's penetration or the magic of his having found the woman whose heart's measure is on a par with his.

Though Elizabeth traces and retraces Gerald's reasons for needing to stay in Peking, it remained a total puzzle to me. No single idea was developed enough for the whole to make sense.

I'm old enough to remember when Betty Crocker's cookbook was a standard gift for new brides who had no experience at all with boiling an egg. Then and now, it could be useful for those whose main concern is getting something, anything, on the table with minimum fuss. But it is strictly limited and utilitarian - the recipes are very bland, without mention of even simple additions (herbs, perhaps, or a cup of wine) that could improve the quality of the most frugal cook's table without requiring extensive time or gourmet expertise.

As one example from my own book of 'sad cooking outcomes,' I well remember when I intended to prepare a beautiful veal roast, and a relative asked if she could do so instead to have it ready a bit earlier. The result was hardly to be relished - unseasoned, no gravy, rather dry - basically a product of 'just put it in and let it cook.' Need I mention which cookbook she had used? The standard "do not baste, do not add water", bland Betty Crocker.

If one is totally inexperienced, and just wishes to gain confidence in the very action of cooking, this book might have some value as a beginning - but not for long.

If anything, a 'how to' guide such as this one could lead to further misunderstanding in many relationships. The pat 'this means that' would be far off the mark in more cases than one could count.

Here is a simple example (which I, as a woman, have a right to make.) Gray's assumption that women are invariably empathetic listeners, instinctively understand what other women say, and that their unsolicited 'constructive criticism' is an expression of caring and love, is laughable. Respectively, in many cases the 'empathy' is merely looking for key words in the other's speech in order to respond with one's own 'wisdom,' the assumption of 'understanding' means very poor listening ability (often accompanied by answers to questions no one asked), and the meddling, excuse me, 'constructive criticism' is an ego game.

No one is ready to explore knowledge of the other in relationships unless one first tries some honest self-knowledge. This is merely a 'how to' book for assumptions, accompanied by a smug 'I'm this way because I am from Mars/Venus'.

If one is 'working backwards' from the scandal of there being sexual abuse scandals, and 'covering up,' Dr Dinter's book does present an absorbing treatment of factors which have influenced both tendencies.

However, the scope of the thought is far too limited. In the early chapters, where Dinter speaks of his childhood and seminary training, the traits which encouraged those not suited to the priesthood to pursue ordination, and attitudes assumed on the part of family and local church, were presented as if they were universal. Celibacy was treated as if it were the source of inevitable pathology (though not criminal actions or necessarily sexual abuse). I am not suggesting that Dinter's observations would apply to some, perhaps many, of the clergy, but there is no balance in this book. The observations are assumed to apply to all.

Dr Dinter's intelligence and background are clear, and it therefore is very disappointing to see generalisations lead to half truths. This oddly reminded me of the quite different generalisations that he so deplored in his seminary training.

If one is 'working backwards' from the scandal of there being sexual abuse scandals, and 'covering up,' Dr Dinter's book does present an absorbing treatment of factors which have influenced both tendencies.

However, the scope of the thought is far too limited. In the early chapters, where Dinter speaks of his childhood and seminary training, the traits which encouraged those not suited to the priesthood to pursue ordination, and attitudes assumed on the part of family and local church, were presented as if they were universal. Celibacy was treated as if it were the source of inevitable pathology (though not criminal actions or necessarily sexual abuse). I am not suggesting that Dinter's observations would apply to some, perhaps many, of the clergy, but there is no balance in this book. The observations are assumed to apply to all.

Dr Dinter's intelligence and background are clear, and it therefore is very disappointing to see generalisations lead to half truths. This oddly reminded me of the quite different generalisations that he so deplored in his seminary training.

This is the perfect gift book for those interested in the Middle Ages. It is beautifully presented, and organisation of recipes with references to historical incidents or literary works is clever and winning. The recipes are easy enough to prepare, and I assumed the variations from the originals were intended to make obtaining ingredients simple.

There were several reasons I withheld a 'five star' rating. First, though the author makes reference to how a particular dish would have been prepared in several different ways, only one variation is offered, in some cases markedly unlike the original. Secondly, and to a greater degree, there are not many recipes included. Those provided are illustrations of a category, not collections of, for example, varied main dishes, desserts, or savouries.

Granted, finding another Dickens would be highly unlikely in any era. Yet this horrid work not only is a far cry from Dickens but would be only mediocre were it written by a teenager who was trying to make points about 2002 political correctness, heavily flavoured by the American dream.

I shall not repeat the points which other 'one star' reviewers made, and with which I heartily concur. The literary style is very poor, the rush of ghosts and their messages more irritating than enlightening, and Timothy Cratchit shows not a hint of the charm of which the original gave promise.

Gonzalez's work is highly accurate, and provides a good summary of the church history of the period. However, for advanced students, its value is largely as a means of refreshing the memory about developments in a particular period. It does not have the degree of the history of doctrinal development, or even of all aspects of religious conflicts, that would be helpful in graduate studies.

As well, I did not care for the writing style, which seemed on a par with what "grammar checkers" would allow as not being "pretentious" (translation: nothing above the level of an eight year old.) Though I'd consider the term "readable" to be very complimentary, this book goes too far, placing the language on such an elementary level that I sometimes had to stop a moment and remember this was not a child's book.

Yes, there are a few liberties taken with Dickens' original text, but this version of Christmas Carol is quite true to the message which Dickens conveyed. Powerful images, and George C Scott's very natural (as opposed to "cartoonish") portrayal of Scrooge, rescue the work from the "children's story" genre into which other adaptations often fall.

If someone is interested in a film that is "entertainment for the whole family," s/he may not find this version to be a favourite, because it is not pure entertainment. The poor are shown in their genuine state, not as the exceedingly happy crowd in a fictional London! For example, one extremely powerful sequence is when Scrooge, during his travels with the Ghost of Christmas Present, sees families huddled over makeshift fires, seeking shelter under a bridge. Scrooge learns, from what he hears, that families indeed would rather die than go to the workhouse - the poor laws would separate them one from the other.

Though there are various fine adaptations of Christmas Carol, this one is probably singular in that there is no exagerration in the depiction of any character. Fred is a reserved, rather shy young man - Bob Cratchitt's family enjoy each other's company but are not excessively joyous. Scott's Scrooge is the ultimate laissez faire capitalist, proud of his financial success for all that, as he comes to learn during the ghosts' visits, pursuing this has made him isolated from human warmth and totally indifferent towards anyone else. Scrooge is not a caricature, nor a monster - but one who placed all of his trust in business gain. The scene where he spies his former beloved, Belle, with her spouse and children, and realises that this life could have been his, is very moving. (Though Belle appears to have no less material wealth than Ebenezer.)

This is an outstanding production, capturing the essence of Dickens' brilliant work.