The Wild Geese is an exceptionally well-illustrated and very tightly written introduction to a story which spans three centuries of military history. The Irish who fled to France and Spain to take military service with the Catholic kings in the 1600s were the precursors of the famous Irish Brigades of those countries, and of our own. Although constrained by the page limit of the books in this series, the author nevertheless manages to give a good deal of information about the names, organization, deeds and histories of these regiments. He even includes anectodotes and quotes from officers and men of those units -- and their opponents. The book includes a section on the Irish exile units that fought for Napoleon, the Pope, for several Latin American armies and for the United States in our revolution and civil war. He even mentions the San Patrico battalion, a group of Irish deserters from the AMerican army who fought for Mexico in the Mexican-American war. There is even a brief epilogue dealing with how some of these units live on today in modern armies (there are historical companies in certain French and Spanish regiments that trace their lineage to the Irish regiments, as well as our own 165th infantry, the descendent of the 69th New York of the Civil War Irish Brigade). It is richly illustrated with both historical art and a set of uniform drawings (or "plates") made especially for this book.

A great and rare treat that is a must for anyone interested in Irish military history.

Have you ever wondered how to pronounce all those French (Italian, German, etc.) wines? Out of interest, I have read several complete texts on wines, but have never confident my expertise was evident because I stumbled over the more difficult pronounciations. This audio cassette set has helped a great deal. You will especially enjoy the vast knowledge of Robert Balzer (who must live & breathe wines!) Highly recommended!

Henningsen's work is an intriguing study of this overlooked era in Spanish history. He walks the reader from the beginnings of the witch trials (very similar in formation to the more popularly studied Salem witch trials) through the intercession by the Spanish Inquisition and to Antonio Salzar de Frias' posting of the Edicts of Grace. This is a book of political and theological intrigue and a mystery thrown in for good measure. While reading it, I kept wondering what was going to happen next even though this is a history text and not a novel, though there is more than enough information and a strong enough plot within the history to fashion a novel. If you are a lover of history (especially historical texts), this is one book that is difficult to put down. Even if you are not a lover of history texts, the "plot" of this study is one that will probably keep you hooked until then end.

Pink's book discusses the phenomenon of the female presence in the plazas of Spain. The author uses Cristina Sanchez as a case in point, both through material gleaned from interviews with the torera herself as well as a thorough analysis of the ways in which the Spanish media conveyed Sanchez to the public. Of particular interest are Pink's keen observations of the "consumption" of Sanchez by the photographic lens.

At a more theoretical level, early on in the book, Pink situates Sanchez within an extremely thorough and comprehendable delineation of the history of the bullfight and traces the ways in which anthropologists have tried, not only to understand the wider, more cultural meaning of the bullfight but to explain it. Their various theories are described in an eloquent and thought provoking manner.

"Women and Bullfighting" is the ideal book for readers who want a different angle of the bullfight but will not sacrifice accuracy of detail in the process. Although now retured from the ring, and a new mother, Sanchez has left the door open for other women to take her cape. The subject of Women in the bullring is a highly contentious one that has been in circulation long before Sanchez but, without a doubt, will continue for as long as the national fiesta itself does. This book is an important document within the continuing debate about women and gender in the most machistic and traditional spheres of Spanish culture.

Kathryn Harrison's lush and dark prose chronicles the dual tale of a doomed queen and a poor peasant girl, both victims of the Spanish Inquisition. THe book's descriptions of life in SPain during the INquisition seems well researched and the writing is compelling enough to keep you reading. THe many bodily fluids emitted by the characters, sperm, blood, milk, sweat, vomit, etc. would seem to be a metaphor for the cultural and spiritual "poison" of the times. However, most readers are likely to latch on to one character or the other as being more interesting.Both lives, those of the queen, Maria Luisa, and that of the peasant girl, FRancesca, are told by Francesca, but her obvious distance from the Queen's life does not allow her to carry it off. We know little of her thoughts and desires, she is thus denied any real dignity or persona. Harrison might have done better to let each tell their own story and then have them merge in some significant way, but each story never does intersect. Harrison is a master prose stylist, but the story is not quite able to carry the book. It actually could have been longer and given us more detail about the INquisition itself, which remains everpresent i nthe story, but always behind the scenes and hidden from view. Balancing life in the castle with life in the fields proves too difficult a task in this short a book (310 pages). Furthermore, the dual structure of rich and poor is further confused by the author's seeming desire to write both a darkly atmospheric setpiece of the era and a tribute to the power of love, Harlequin style. THe prose is rich enough, but the lines of the story are so obvious that the book, in the end, offers few surprises; we are not at all shocked by the sad ending to the story. A book for admirers of style over substance, or for historians of the era, but not recommended for the casual reader.

In "Poison," Kathryn Harrison impressed me with her masterful command of the English language. Thank to her crafty prose, I was immediately and completely plunged into the brutal times of the Spanish inquisition, from the dungeons of its torturers to the deadly intrigues of the royal palace. Swiftly changing between her two main female characters - a silk grower's daughter and the Queen of Spain, she narrates their life stories and compares and contrasts their fates without effort. The two women, so different in their station, are so similar in their doomed destiny that the book leaves you a little sad and helpless. Still a wonderful read.

The language Kathryn Harrison uses to tell this story is exquisite. Reading this novel was like running your fingers over a fine brocade; the novel has a rich texture and an intriguing plot. I love the way Harrison approaches the questions of religion and heresy, making these themes of the novel particularly important by placing her narrative in the time frame of the Spanish Inquisition. I have to take issue with those who dismiss this novel as a glorified romance novel. There's a lot more to Francisca and Alvaro's relationship than sex, and the juxtaposition of the situations of the two women highlights this difference.

This was the first Kathryn Harrison novel I ever read, and it made Harrison one of my favorite writers, deservedly so. This novel will remain one of my top ten all-time favorite books, mainly because of Harrison's gorgeous prose.

I imagine I could have used the phrase "engaging portrait," rather than "pretty picture," but based on most reviews I've stumbled upon, there is already enough condescention and pomposity in here by wannabe literary elitists. Suffice it to say that, as in "The Flanders Panel," this novel does a beautiful job of describing the sights and sounds of its locations, and in turn creating an atmosphere. The only disappointments I found were ones of my own personal preference (i.e. - how Father Quart's inner struggle turned out, the comedy relief trio). I would not recommend any of the author's books to anyone who does not like spending time reading about the atmosphere, instead prefering their mysteries to focus on the matter at hand. If that was the case in this book, it would have been roughly 28 pages long and you wouldn't have needed half of the characters. As others have written, I was left wanting to know a little more about what would become of Quart, but don't think any sort of sequel is necessary. The mystery drew me in, the major characters were compelling, and you put the book down feeling certain you are being given an honest glimpse at the way certain aspects of society operate.

People who have never read Arturo Perez Reverte will be deceived when told "Seville communion" is a plain "whodunnit" thriller. Reverte's books are muchh more than that. What he usually does is imagine an unusual situation (the plot), and unusual characters, and these characters will relate to each other with the unusual situation as background. This is how he works, and we can notice it in "The Dumas club", "The Flanders panel" and "The nautical chart".

"Seville communion" follows the same pattern. The unusual situation is that someone named Vespers has hacked into His Holiness The Pope's personal computer. There, vespers leaves a message about how a small but ancient church in Seville is killing people who want it destroyed. Yes, it's a bit strange, but Reverte knows how to manage the bizarre plots he conceives.

The main character is Father Lorenzo Quart, a member of a "black-ops" branch of the Catholic Church in Rome. More like a soldier than a priest, he travels to Seville to see what's really going on. In the Andaluzian city he will find many of those unusual characters, like an ambitious banker who wants the grounds the church lies on, his ex-wife, beautiful, powerful, with a little crush on men who wear black, her old, Coca-Cola addicted mother, four small-time crooks who can't do anything right, an old priest who will do anything to save his parish, and other interesting people.

Reverte's characters are developed almost to exhaustion (the author's exhaustion, not the reader's). His story flows very well. Reverte writes in a way that doesn't offend the reader with idiotic paragraphs and chapters, and sometimes he deliberately hides one thing or another from the reader, leaving him/her to think. All these elements together make you forget that "Seville communion" 's genre is supposedly a mistery thriller. It's way more than that.

Although Reverte's books may seem strange (pointless) at a first glance, you have to get used to them to fully appreciate his kind of literature. Don't give after only a few pages.

Grade 8.8/10

The range of opinions in the reviews of Pérez-Reverte's The Seville Communion is wide and interesting.

The author stands the Church's high bureaucratic inertia and high monetary wants against the wants and needs of a small number of Sevillans. The characters, while rich enough for the job at hand, are more lightly drawn than P-R's other works (such as The Club Dumas). Maybe some of the divergence of reviewer opinion can be traced to this.

I found more than the "beach read for intellectuals" label had lead me to expect. For example, though seen as simplistic or evil by some, comic relief is by a tragicomic trio of inepts whose values are strong but a bit too conveniently adaptive; their ethos is found lacking but maybe no more than the Church's. Another: You will probably not forget Lorenzo Quart (or, oddly, Father Priamo Ferro) for a long time.

This book is not pretentious. P-R is not and, at least here, doesn't even try to be Eco. The only rose here is an attractive flower. Of the nearly 30 reviews I read before buying the book most, despite the variability, recommend reading the book. I would add my voice to theirs.

If you don't mind a little historical romanticism a la Michener, then you will probably greatly enjoy this fine introduction to the Basque people. I frequently travel to Northern Nevada where I've met many Basques and eaten at most, if not all of the Basque restaurants there. Yet when I rave about these places at home, a blank look appears on most faces followed by the question "What is a Basque?" Kurlansky's book goes a long way toward answering that question and shows how the Basque, despite not having a formal country, has been able to hold on to language and culture and to have an important influence on the development of the Americas from Argentina to our American West. Intertwined in his easy to read history are all sorts of fascinating tidbits about this little understood people. I only wish that there was more about the Basques in America because it is they who have given the most flavor to the western Great Basin. After reading this book, you will surely want to know more. If you can't make it to Euskadi, check out the Basque Festival in Elko or go by J and T's in Gardnerville and ask Marie to sell you a "Nevada, so many sheep, so little time" bumper sticker and then enjoy a Basque feast.

Like Northern Ireland, the subject of the Basques becomes a division into 2 camps: those who think that the Basques do not deserve independence, and those who think that they do. I was part of the second group before I read this book, and I still am. Kurlansky's account of the origins of Basque nationalism, beginning with Sabino Arana, is very well documented and researched, albeit very biased. But like Northern Ireland, there is no way that one can avoid developing one's own position on this issue, unless one just does not care. I do have a problem with how he sees the modern day ETA in very much the same light as ETA during Franco's time. In my view, the ETA of Franco's time and the ETA of today are two different groups that share the same name. That said, this is one of my favorite books, has a permanent place on my shelf, and I find myself taking it down and reading it over and over. Mr. Kurlansky has shown us why a minority of Basques turned to violence to get their independence, but also the beauty and splendor of a people who are as old as Europe itself.

This book was an excellent read about the Basques, their history, culture, and cuisine. The reviews have centred on Kurlansky's view of ETA. What about the rest of the book? Whales, cod, Elkano, Loyola, Arana, Aguirre, pelota, elvers .... It is amazing to find out the a Basque was the first to circumnavigate the globe, that two Basques founded the Jesuits, that Simon Bolivar was descended from Basques, and so on. Silhouette is a Basque word. Canadians will remember a great football plyer named Sam Etcheverry. Was he, too, as Basque as his name suggests?

I did not think this was a book about ETA. But from the reviews on this page, one would think this was a great big book glorifying terrorism! I have read this book twice. I would suggest you read it too. For once we have the chance to read about a people from their own point of view.

And for those who think there is too much politics in Kurlansky, forget it, life is politics! I will give you some politics for free. Like the Welsh , the Basques have been obliterated from the map for several hundred years. But entities such as "Spain" have only been in existence for a couple of hundred years, while the Basques trace their origins to prehistory. Spain seem to have given up all their colonies except those closest to home. The Spanish did quite a bit to keep this lucrative colony, including using the Luftwaffe to flatten Basque market towns. (Incredible now that they will not allow Picasso's Gernika to be shown in Bilbao.)Trying to kill off the Basque language,a unique tongue unrelated to any known language, was just an immense disservice to humanity.

The Basques (and Welsh,) however, will be there long after Spain and Britain and other empires have ceased to be. Within the European union, there is no longer a need to keep these small nations in subjection and to deny them their rightful place.

Again, I say, ignore the above reviews, read this book, and decide for yourself.

My wife and I have a home in Andalusia. We also are enthusiastic but 'minor' league students of Moorish & Jewish history in Spain. So I bought this book as a easy-to-please, generalist and wanna-be fan.

Unfortunately, this book comes up light on two levels. It provides few new relevations about the role of Moors and Jews in Medieval Spain. It also lacks good story telling on the major figures and thought leaders of this 700-year period. I found Menocal's analysis sharp and able, but sometimes overdone. And like too many academics, Menocal is neither a good storyteller nor writer. In summary, the lack of new insights and sharp writing spoils the book for me.

More broadly, the fundamental premise of the book: That Arabs, Jews and Christians lived peacefully under Moorish rule, is more romantic than true. Except for a very brief period of 50 or so years around 900 AD, there was more persecution than tolerance over the 700 year Moorish period. Ask the Jews of Granada that were slaughered in 1066, or the thousands of Christians who were deported by the Almoravid dynasty to Morocco as slaves in 1126. During the same period, it is well known the Berbers of Northern Africa would frequently pillage Spain, robbing Andalusian Arabs and Christians alike. Later, of course, a united Christian Spain would deport the heavily taxed and persecuted Moors in 1492; some authorities report Muslims were forced to leave their children behind as slaves for the Christian Monarchs to work in various trades.

I believe the book's only bright light is an interesting and original tale about how the enlightened Arabs and Jews of the period translated and preserved some of the world's best literature and science thought lost after the fall of Rome and Greece. The works of Aristotle, for example, were translated from Greek to Arab, then several hundred years later by the Christian clergy from Arab to Latin and other romance languages.

An alternative book about Islamic and Jewish influences in Andalusia is Richard Fletcher's "Moorish Spain." Fletcher is considered by some authorities to be the Bernard Lewis of Islamic Spain and his well-written 1990 book remains the one of best efforts covering that period. Another well-written book, but more detailed effort, is L.P. Harvey's "Islamic Spain 1250-1500." A third book, a superior piece of modern travel writing, rich in Moorish and Jewish history, is Gees Nooteboom's "Roads to Santiago."

All three of books are widely available, offer an unvarnished overview of Moorish & Sefardic Spain, and are worth consideration for people seeking a non-academic overview of this classic period.

Good luck and good reading!

I have been fortunate enough to travel to Spain three times now. Two of my trips have taken me through the southern parts of the country--Andalusia (al-Andalus) and its environs--that make up the setting for much of this story. It is a beautiful part of the world and Menocal has provided us with a wonderful history of the area during the time of its greatest glory: the Middle Ages. From 711 until 1492, the Iberian Peninsula was the home of three different cultures--Jewish, Christian and Muslim--that were often able to co-exist in relative peace. While doing so, they were each able to contribute to a cosmopolitan and melded culture that for a long stretch was the most advanced culture in Western civilization, producing things that remain unique to this day.

This "culture of tolerance" as Menocal calls it was perhaps not as tolerant as she likes to make out and, of course, it ultimately implodes as Christians and Muslims fight for possession of the country. Still, much of the literature, science and philosophy produced of that time remains influential and many of the beautiful places remain to be see by visitors to the area. Anyone traveling to the country would be amiss if he or she did not take a look at this book and get a feel for the achievement of medieval Spain.

Understand that this book is a completely optimistic account of the period and ignores most of the tragedies of the time. Still, in our time of insecurity, it is nice to read something positive. It is beautiful to see what can be achieved when three powerful cultures work together instead of try to destroy each other.

Maria Rosa Menocal presents what today would be a 'radical' idea: people of different religions coexisting and even tolerating their differences while creating a vibrant and dynamic society. Yet, in medieval Spain ('al-Andalus' as the exiled Umayyad dynasty coined it) this kind of society was created and managed to exist for almost 600 years. The book is part narrative, part analysis of what made al-Andalus the creative center that transmitted both Arab and ancient Greek culture throughout the Western European world. The originator was Abd al-Rahman, the last of the Umayyad Muslims from Syria, whose family had been wiped out by political and religious rivals. As a young man, he is exiled to the Iberian peninsula, and begins to transform it into the 'real' caliphate, filled with new ideas; perhaps accidentally, he also creates a society where Jews and Christians can rise to high posts in the caliphate and transform their own cultures. Menocal provides portraits of individuals of all backgrounds who build a sometimes 'ideal' society; she also narrates those who, like Petrus Alfonsi (a convert from Judaism to Christianity), take these ideas to the rest of Europe (Petrus became famous and revered in England for what was 'common' knowledge in al-Andalus, which illustrates how ignorant much of Europe was -- Petrus was only 'average' in his homeland). The book ends with a bitter -- and, in the context of the book, surprising -- betrayal of tolerance by Isabella and Ferdinand of Spain in 1492: despite dressing like 'Arabs' at their ascension to a 'reconquered' Christian Spain, within three months, they banned (and pressured conversion) to the Jews (some of whom worked with these monarchs in positions of authority), and pressure Muslims to convert or leave. Although remnants of the 'golden' age of al-Andalus survive in buildings like the Alhambra palace, the Inquisition wipes out much of what flourished during the supposedly 'dark' age of Europe. One of the most insightful books I've read in months.

After having read the "Club Dumas" without having been able to put it down, I compulsively reached for the Flanders Panel.

It is also a very well written, enjoyable book to read. Perez-Reverte's style is not presumptuous, and at the same time, filled with rich details woven into a great plot line and real characters.

However, the detailed representations of the chess game may make it a difficult read for some. If you don't enjoy the game analysis (for the author actually employs diagrams and move lists), I suggest you skip those sections. The story will still make sense, although a lot of the symbolism will be lost. If you enjoy the game, by all means, read this book. I had not played in a long time, but the book made me dust off my chess set. Perez-Reverte succeeds in bringing the game, and a murder plot symbolized in the chess pieces, to life like the "Flanders Panel" brought the depicted scene to life with its realism.

The Flanders Panel is a fascinating mystery which is packed with riddles, puzzles and allusions. The plot rapidly swings into motion when the protagonist, Julia, who has been commissioned to restore a 15th Century painting, discovers a hidden inscription which poses the question, "who killed the knight?". The painting depicts a nobleman and a knight playing a game of chess. Through consultation and research, Julia identifies the people depicted in the painting, learns that the knight died under suspicious circumstances and figures out that the answer to the question lies in the chess game depicted in the painting. Julia enlists the help of several friends in her efforts to solve the riddle. One by one, those helpers die violent, all-too-co-incidental deaths.

This sinister novel is exceedingly well done. Large sections of the book are devoted to analysis of chess problems and interpretation of medieval Flemish art. To my utter astonishment, these sections are so vivid and so expertly crafted that they are the highlights of the book.

The characters in the book are, almost without exception, flatly-drawn with little or no depth. This is in such stark contrast to the descriptions of the chess games that I couldn't help but wonder if the author intended the contrast. One of the recurring motifs in the book is the confusion between reality and the reflected image in a mirror. Here, the players are flat while the chessboard becomes multi-dimensional.

I rated this book four stars rather than five because the characters were unengaging and unsympathetic. It was as if every person dealing with fine art in Madrid in the 1980s was self-absorbed and hedonistic. Also, the final chapter seems false and contrived. Otherwise, this is the ideal book to take along on a vacation. It is a highly entertaining book. I found it difficult to put down.

I enjoyed reading this book very much. Not being a chess expert I may have enjoyed it more than some reviewers that complained that the chess puzzle was not clever. I suppose it is true that not being an expert of chess helped me be interested in the book, yet, in spite of that, if you are a chess expert, lighten up and enjoy anyway. Mr Perez Reverte is a journalist and a writer, not Jose Raul Capablanca. the plot was nicely laid and the writing very good, and the only reason I did not rate this a full 5 stars was because some of the characters, Julia and Munoz, kind of diasppointed me, but I also suspect that the author never meant to give us perfect human beings. And also, I felt I got the answer of who killed (took) the knight too soon. I certainly recommend this book to anyone wanting a mystery with style. Finally, I simply am amazed that one reviewer called this book homophobic. How can someone so misread a book?

In his newest work, Ballard covers a theme fans will be familiar with- the evolution of society. It's a tale of two resort cities. The first is one where people go off to shack themselves away in a world of sattelite dishes, security cameras, locked gates, and silence. Just down the coast is the second, it's sister city- riddled with crime, drugs, pornography, and other fun stuff. What amounts to a plot is just an excuse for these two worlds to collide, and Ballard has many interesting things to say about wealthy society's ever increasing tendency towards leisure. JGB-isms abound: There's a messianic figure (shades of "The Unlimited Dream Company"), lots of that cold sterile "Ballardian" sex that fans of "Crash" will feel right at home with, and the insular society he covered in "Highrise", "Rushing to Paradise", and others. Unfortunately it all felt rather aimless to me- but perhaps that's the whole point? Rich, bland people without motivation or direction wandering around wasting time- sort of like JGB invading Bret Easton Ellis' territory. Therein lies one of the main problemswith this book: WHY JGB wrote this- what was HIS motivation? Does he feel that crime and porn are the answer to society's ills? I doubt it. (Well, I guess you could make a case for porn...). Or does he see wealthy society's trend towards leisure pursuits a dangerous thing? It doesn't really feel like either one. The other main problem is his attempt to use the mystery novel as a structure in which to philosophize on all of this- it's just not his forte. Perhaps had he abandoned traditional narrative altogether and just presented us with a series of characters- really immersed us in their blandness instead of trying to find things for them to do- it would have made for a stronger read. I think those familiar with JGB will find it somewhat interesting, but others will most likely find it a bit of a bore.

And this is a brilliant novel of what lies under the thin veneer of civilisation that we all wear, an edgy exploration of the the violence that lies within us all. His usual sparkling, deceptively simple prose is here, together with a thrilling murder story, off-beat characters and a threatening air of menace lurking by the pools and apartments of the up-market retirement village. Ballard is tragically under-read, and I urge you to read Cocaine Nights, one of the best books of the 90s, and then move on to his other novels, particularly The Drought and High Rise, and then devour his short stories, which are nearly all perfectly crafted gems.

i have always been intrigued with the themes and topics ballards works have been dealing with. nevertheless, most of his novels could not satisfy me completely. COCAINE NIGHTS changed that. ballards' amazingly beautiful and poetic descriptive way of writing, a story about tomorrow's society set in our present, the dark side that lurks in each one of us. all of the above come together in this novel, and make COCAINE NIGHTS wahat i would consider ballards flagship work. reminiscent of FIGHT CLUB. great stuff.