Some readers may find this book difficult. Barthes never attempts to give us a uniform narrative about love. Instead, as the title implies, he provides us with fragments--some of which come from literature and some from his own philisophical musings--of a lover's point of view. Since childhood, we are taught to think of love as a singualar entity. Whether it is God's love, marriage, passion, or patriotism, we are taught to think of love as a unique, and exclusive prize. But as Barthes' points out, love is built upon fragments, many of which are mundane.

The most compelling part of "Lover's Discourse" is Barthe's dissection of the phrase, "I love you". Drawing upon literary examples and common sense, Barthes asks us what we mean when we state that we love someone. Do we love what they do for us? Do we love how they make us feel? Do we love the idea of them? Are we in love with love itself? This concept is born out by the protagonist Merseault, in Camus' novel, "A Happy Death". The first thing Merseault says to his lover when she wakes up in the morning is, "hello image".

"Lover's Discourse" extracts love from ideology and examines it under a microscope. We may be confused by what we see, and we may not like it, but the view contains more than a glimmer of reality.

"The Remains of the Day" is a fascinating study of character, and to some extent of history as well. The novel spans the professional life of an English Butler named Stevens. It guides us from his heyday as a loyal servant at Darlington Hall to his twilight years as a curio for the estate's new American owner. Steven's is a man of impeccable loyalty and stubbornness. While these qualities ensure Stevens' professional survival, they also provide his life with tragic limitations.

In some parts of the book, Stevens' loyalty is admirable albeit misdirected. For example, Stevens is unable to acknowledge his father's infirmity until Lord Darlington brings it to his attention. He is also unable to shed his professional scales just long enough to have a meaningful interaction with the woman he loves. At the end of the book, Stevens returns to Darlington Hall from a short trip to the country and resolves to master the sort of "bantering" that his American employer requires. All of these factors make Steven's a humorous caricature, but Ishiguro did not write this book merely to make fun of English butlers.

The real issue lurking in the depths of this book centers on fascism and conformity. Stevens' master, Lord Darlington has ties to the British fascist leader Sir Oswald Mosley, and is later denounced and disgraced for that reason. Blind loyalty prevents Stevens from acknowledging the error of Lord Darlington's conviction, even after he fires all the Jewish members of his staff. Long after Lord Darlington's death, when his estate has been purchased by a wealthy American, Stevens still feels unquestioning loyalty to the master. It costs him his relationship with the woman he loves, and makes us rather pity his blindness.

Stevens is in fact the prototypical conformist. His endless loyalty comes not so much from conviction but from protocol and habit. It is adaptable and transferable to any form of authority be it a fascist aristocrat or an American business man. Much like the fascists of Western Europe, Stevens is still quite useful to have around even when the old order passes and the new one takes over. Obedient, passionless, and blind to the injustices around him--Steven's morality is an open standard that can be retrofitted for any authority.

After reading this book, I recommend that you check out Bernardo Bertolucci's film "Il Conformist". Bertolucci explores the same sort of mindset albeit from a different perspective.

Finally, a book that--ahem--deflates Rush Limbaugh. Franklin's expose is as incisive as it is wildly funny. It exposes much of Rush's hypocracy including the fact that he:

1. Was on welfare.

2. Avoided fighting in Vietnam because of a problem with hair on his posterior.

3. Didn't work.

4. Has received hand-outs all his life.

5. Is only capable of coping with a controlled audience but can't handle spontaneous questions.

It also exposes many of the lies and demagogery that constitute Rush's discources.

Most people ignore Rush Limbaugh because they consider him to be a bombastic idiot. But many ignored Hitler for the same reason which caused the world to suffer enormous conequences. I think we all owe Al Frankin a debt, not only for entertaining us, but also for deflating a bloated presense on the fascist landscape. It's nice when the people who make a career out of attacking people finally find themselves under the gun.

It may be difficult for contemporary readers to understand why, after reading "The Sufferings of Young Werther", so many young German men of Goethe's time killed themselves. Not only did they kill themselves but also they dressed in the same clothing that Werther wears when he takes his own life. Clearly they identified with Werther and it is incumbent upon us to understand why.

For those of you who are not familiar with the story, Werther is a youthful German gentleman at the dawn of his civil service career. Unlike his contemporaries, Werther is awkward, socially clumsy, and extremely sensitive. He is also desperately in love with a woman named Charlotte (Lotte) whose feelings toward Werther are not mutual. After Lotte rejects him, Werther goes to a party where he is publicly humiliated. This being more than Werther can bear, he returns home and kills himself with a pistol.

Werther's suicide is more than a response to Lotte's rejection. In a sense it is a disavowal of the society he lives in. Werther's emotions and sensitivity make him something of an oddball among his peers who ultimately scorn and reject him. At the end of the story, Werther is not only heart-broken but also isolated.

Some reviewers have drawn interesting comparisons between Werther and other romantic heroes such as Heathcliffe. The comparison that interests me the most is the one between Werther and Pechorin, the notorious protagonist of Lermantov's "A Hero of Our Times". Unlike Werther, Pechorin is a man of action who isn't rejected by women or society but who ultimately rejects them. Pechorin does not kill himself directly, but he leads a life-style, replete with adventures and duels that ultimately results in his destruction. Both characters essentially feel that they have no place in the world they live in and each orchestrates his own destruction.

In a sense, Werther and company are predecessors of existentialist anti-heroes such as Merseault, the taciturn narrator in "The Stranger". They may also be the precursors of more contemporary figures such as Jim Morrison, Janice Joplyn and Kurt Kobein. If literature reveals a trend of alienation and self-annihilation in the western world during the past two hundred years, then we ought to ask ourselves why it occurs. Perhaps as the world grows more organized, technical, and full of protocol it requires an increasingly larger degree of conformity. Cooperation and team-work demand the removal of individual impulses. If one can't love or can't act outside of public requirements then one has few alternatives left. When critics complained to Goethe about the copycat Werther suicides, he responded that if the commercial system killed so many young men, then couldn't Werther have a few. Suicide, like so many other extreme acts of destruction, isn't the solution to rejection, loss, and alienation, but it is certainly a symptom that is difficult to ignore.

"Nothing will come of nothing" the fatal line Lear utters to Cordelia sums up the entire play. The wizened king believes he is urging Cordelia not to refrain from expressing her love for him when in fact he is unwittingly prompting her to use the same insincere flattery as her sisters. When Cordelia refuses to acquiesce to Lear's wishes, he banishes her from the kingdom and divides it among her nefarious sisters Goneril and Reagan. In doing this Lear accepts their empty flattery instead of Cordelia's austere profession of paternal love. Goneril and Reagan quickly betray Lear and then turn against each other. Thus Lear's preference for empty flattery (nothing) destroys his authority and embroils his kingdom in civil strife (generates nothing).

This theme runs like a thread through other parts of the play. Gloucester's blindness toward the nature of his sons results in his literal blindness later in the play. Metaphorical blindness generates physical blindness (nothing comes of nothing). Similarly, after Edgar is banished he avoids further harm by shedding his identity and disguising himself as a vagrant. In the new order of things eliminating one's status results in no harm (another version of nothing coming from nothing).

The motif of nothing coming from nothing has psychological and political ramifications for the play. From a psychological point of view Lear fails to realize that the type of adulating love he wants from Cordelia no longer exists because Cordelia is no longer a child. Her refusal to flatter Lear is, in a sense, an act of adolescent rebellion. Lear's failure to recognize the fact that Cordelia still loves him but not with the totality of a child proves to be his undoing. From a political point of view the fact that Lear divides his kingdom on the basis of protocol (who is the most flattering) instead of reality (whose words can he really trust) also proves to be his undoing. The fact that Lear sees what he wants to see instead of what he should see is the fulcrum of destruction throughout the play.

It is interesting to note that "King Lear" was staged barely one generation after England endured a bitter war of succession (The War of the Roses). The sight of Lear proclaiming his intention to divide his kingdom must have shocked contemporary audiences in the same manner that a play about appeasing fascists might disturb us today.

"The Tremor of Forgery" is a superb novel, but it may not be for everybody. If you are in the mood for suspense and clarity, then you probably won't enjoy this book. If you prefer something more subtle, psychological, and mood-oriented then I recommend it.

"The Tremor of Forgery" is sort of a mystery. It lacks the action and denouement of typical mysteries but definitely contains its share of questions and intrigue. In this case, though the mystery doesn't revolve around questions of guilt (who done it) but around character, environment, and identity.

Howard Ingram is an American writer who has been hired to go to Tunisia and write a screenplay. A number of mysterious events destroy his project but he decides to stay on and write a novel. His life in Tunisia essentially revolves around two people of opposite mindsets. Ingram's middle-aged neighbor, Adams is the quintessential naive, optimist and ideologue. He constantly speaks of "our way of life" (which earns him the nickname "OWL") and broadcasts pro-American propaganda to the Soviet Union. Despite living in Tunisia with apparent ease, Adams firmly retains his American identity. Jensen, on the other hand, is a Danish Artist and a homosexual who dislikes Tunisia, but in many ways appears to have gone native. He lives in an Arab section of town with simple clothes and few possessions. Jensen occasionally hires boys for sex, but his only real love appears to be his friendship with Ingram and his affection for his dog.

In the course of preventing a burglary in his bungalow, Ingram kills--or thinks he's killed--an Arab thief. The corpse (if in fact it is a corpse) disappears and Ingram is left to cope with the question of his crime. When Adams deduces what has occurred he pressures Ingram to come to terms with his conscience. Jensen, by contrasts, suggests that Ingram forget about the incident and points out that killing a thief is probably a common occurrence in Tunisia.

Soon Ingram must ask himself who he is and who he has become. Does Ingram retain an inherent set of Western values regardless of where he is, or does he adopt the morality of his environment? While questioning his identity, Ingram must also decide whether or not to marry his girl friend. And in an odd twist, Ingram's crisis parallels that of the hero in his novel.

For many readers the frustrating part of this novel is that nothing is ever resolved. At the end of the novel, Ingram does not comes to terms with his morality or identity, he never passes judgement on Jensen or Adams, and he enters into a relationship that promises trouble. We never learn the fate of the thief or whether Ingram even killed him. In today's shallow television culture, we often crave a definite ending in a story, but the beauty of this novel is that it provides the opposite. The people, places, and morality in this novel are defined to an extent but never completely. This creates a richer and more realistic story.

Highsmith also captures the flavor of third world travel perfectly. Anyone who has gone to a third world country and decided to stay on for awhile will feel at home in this book. The food, the people, the sickness, the ratty apartments, and then the odd and exhilarating feeling of departure all ring true. Like a great painter, Highsmith is more interested in the mood she evokes than in the technical components of her composition. And in this regard, she is one of the great masters of the last century.

"The Awakening" is ruthless in its complete exposure of social oppression and in its avoidance of hypocrisy. Although the novel was written more than one hundred years ago, most if not all of its themes are relevant today.

"The Awakening" examines both women's social position and the perception of that position from the point of view of both genders. When Robert makes his first amorous overtures to Edna Pontellier a mutual friend warns him to act carefully because Edna will not behave in the same manner as other women. She is warning Robert, that Edna will respond to him in an independent and emotional fashion instead of playing the role dictated to her by society. This becomes clear when Robert returns from his self-imposed exile and informs Edna that he wants to ask her husband's permission to share her. Edna mocks this proposal and tells Robert that her life and her feelings are hers alone to give not her husband's. Unfortunately, Robert is unable to love Edna in a manner that is not socially sanctified. In fact, Robert prefers the absurdity of sharing Edna with her husband to having Edna give herself to him of her own volition. To Robert the choice must still be the husband's not Edna's. His affection for Edna is both shallow and inextricably conditioned by social parameters.

The most difficult part of the novel is Edna's decision to commit suicide, knowing she will leave her children behind. From an emotional perspective this is probably difficult for any reader to endure. But it accurately conveys Edna's plight. No man and very few women are capable of accepting Edna on her own terms. They cannot even conceive of her as an independent person so much as an eccentric.

Edna's suicide is not meant to promote suicide as a means of female social emancipation. Instead, it demonstrates that if a woman really wants to escape the pervasive restrictions imposed on her by men, she has few, if any, alternatives. While the legal and social status of women has improved considerably in the developed world, I wonder to what extent men really view them independently of social convention? And in the end, don't the men get a raw deal in this novel? Edna's husband is never able to grasp who she is. Her lover does not even know whom he loves or why? Most of the men in "The Awakening" are in love with the perception of a woman more than with the woman herself. I feel sorry for them.

What ever faults "Gulag Archipelago" may have, it is a monumental and important work. For anyone who does not know the meaning of the title, "Gulag" is the Russian word for prison, and an archipelago is, of course, a chain of islands. The idea behind this is that the Soviet concentration camp system under Lenin and Stalin were like an island of prisons spread all over the Soviet Union.

The content of "Gulag Archipelago" is quite extraordinary. Solzhenitsyn includes countless anecdotes of prisoners and their families in various phases of arrest, interrogation, imprisonment, slave labor, death, or release. He buttresses these stories with statistics, and with his own personal narrative of his years in the Gulag. The information in this book is simply staggering, not only for the cruelty and evil it describes but also the folly. The Soviet government murdered indiscriminately across all lines of race, class, and gender. In many cases, it murdered the most brilliant and productive members of its society--the very people who could have built it into something great.

Many people take umbrage with Solzhenitsyn's style, which involves a lot of ranting and run-on footnotes. Personally, I find his narrative interesting and invigorating. Solzhenitsyn's narrative is vigorous, untrammeled and loaded with sarcasm. While many find this gimmicky or uncultured, it helped buoy me through the unbearable sadness of the book's subject matter.

Obviously this book isn't for everybody and it requires a considerable degree of fortitude to get through it. But I think it is essential in all our lives to read this book or one similar to it.

More than a year ago, my father pulled a book from his shelf and read the first chapter aloud to me. The book was "The Aguero Sisters" and the chapter was completely captivating in its richness of language, its evocative prose, and in the tremendous curiosity it instilled in me about what why certain events occurred and what would happen next. I went on to read the book and absolutely loved it.

"The Aguero Sisters" is several stories interwoven into one. It is a love story, and a mystery of sorts. It is a story of generation and cultural differences and of the strange emotional contradictions felt between siblings. Most importantly, it is a story with rhythm, energy, and touches of dark humor.

There are so many different reasons why people should read this book and none of them are political. Of course it deals with Cuban politics, but it does so in an irreverent and humorous fashion. The most political characters in this book appear to be caricatures while the least political ones are the most compelling.

I have read books with similar themes such as "The Woman Warrior", and "The Joy Luck Club". While I learned a lot from these works and appreciated their content, it seemed that their strengths rested more on issues pertaining to ethnicity, gender, immigration, and generation differences than on any literary merit. "The Aguero Sisters" touches upon similar issues, but it also stands alone as a superb novel. I hope that in the future this book will be compared to some of the finest novels of the Twentieth Century, instead of merely being categorized as "ethnic literature".

I have been thinking about this book more and more ever since I saw the rascist, effusive film "Snow Falling on Cedars". My big gripe with that film was that it made the Japanese Americans look so weak and helpless without white people to rescue them from their predicament.

For those of you who disagreed with my review of that film, I strongly urge you to read (or re-read) "Farwell to Manzanar". This is a frank, accurate, and at times heart-breaking, true story of a Japanese family's internment in the camps. The narrative contains several different threads including:

1. The legal and economic injustice done to the author's family and thousands of other Japanese Americans.

2. The day to day life and survival requirements in the camps.

3. The difficulty of coping with generational differences within an interned Japanese-American family.

4. The difficulties and predjudices that Japanese Americans had to overcome in order to rebuild their lives after they were released.

Ms. Wakatsuki-Houston's memoir is simple and compelling. She describes her childhood experiences from the objective and mature perspective of an adult, a wife, and a mother. But despite the passage of time her narrative still conveys a great deal of pain and difficulty in coming to terms with her childhood internment at Manzanar.

The most interesting part of the book for me was how the author's family attempted to rebuild their lives after the U.S. government robbed and humiliated them. The father immediately started a farming venture whose success was only undermined by unsually adverse environmental conditions. One of the sons served in the military and then resumed the family's fishing business. And the author herself challenged the pedjudiced administration of her highshool by becoming prom queen despite their attempts to thwart her.

Contrary to the wishful thinking of "Snow Falling on Cedars", the white people in this book do not come back and redeem themselves. They do not rescue the people they victimized, and they do not receive bows from them. No woman begs the white man for permission to put her arms around him.

The people in this memoir endure their mistreatment with strength and dignity. When they are released from the camps, they rebuild their lives on their own without assistance, sentimentality or self-pity.

I recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn about a shameful period in American history, and who wants to see how people who are treated unjustly can still survive and move on. But most of all, I recommend this book to people who were taken with the Hollywood version of what happened to Japanese Americans in this country during World War II.