Linton Book Reviews

A few weeks back, I reviewed Little Saigon, and criticized it for its failure to introduce us to the complexities of Vietnamese life here in the U.S. With Stuart Kaminsky's a cold red dawn, we are given a look at Soviet life. Kaminsky drawing a careful intimate picture of the impact of living in that country, especially for the dissident. In a way though, Kaminsky's Russia is so predictable. It seems that he has taken stereotypic Russian characters and gathered them all together for this novel. Is this really Russia? An inspector is sent to Siberia to investigate a murder. His assistant is sent with him to keep an eye on him for the KGB. A third man is alone to keep an eye on the both of them. This internal suspicion is the sub-theme of a cold red dawn. Inspector Porferi Ross-Nikov has been demoted due to his difference of opinion with the KGB and his unorthodox investigative practices. His character has the deviousness of Lieutenant Colombo, without the sarcastic wit and would you explain

that to me, routine? Ross-Nikov fills the bill as the dissident Russian still working within the system. His assistant, Emil Karpov, lives to be of service to the state. He seems to be without emotion, has no home life, and only questions his superiors when their actions appear to him to be inefficient. Karpov is the Russian as machine entry in the list of players. Their companion to Siberia is Sokolov. He serves as comic relief, always three steps behind Ross-Nikov, and furious because he cannot get Ross-Nikov to follow established rules of investigation. The tale is fleshed out by descriptions of extended families sharing small apartments, criminal gangs in Moscow being tracked by the police, rigid career, Russian politicians come policemen, poor health services, etc., etc. One can only suppose that this is how Russia really is, as such a similar portrait of that country

crops up time and again in print and on film. Or do authors and filmmakers use each other as references? Do any create from first-hand experience? The predictability of this view of Russia is alleviated slightly by occasional glimpses of interesting characters, an ice-cream seller, a housewife, a Siberian shaman. The most fascinating aspect of a cold red dawn is the description of Siberia and its history that precede the movement of the action from Moscow to Siberia. As we are hearing in the news, regional struggles in Russia for autonomy or even independence stem from geographic separation as well as ethnic and political sense. Kaminsky's brief look at Siberia helps explain how the vastness of Russia and its diverse history aids dissension and splintering. In fact, native peoples in parts of Siberia are not fully aware of the activity in Moscow. They are, in effect, well as a part. Rosnikova

and his companions have to deal with this foreign world on Soviet soil while also satisfying the demands of their Moscow superiors. The resolution of the murder they have been sent to investigate is bound up rather messily with numerous sub-diffusions and private agendas and, of course, an undercover KGB agent. One would have hoped from his study of film that Kaminsky was aware that if you successfully end a work, earlier deficiencies will be overlooked. The first book I reviewed for KMUW was the classic The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham. Circumstances brought me into contact with two works for children by William Steege, Pinkie Salks, and the surreal The Zabba Jabba Jungle. I think it is really healthy for adults

to read books for children from time to time. I don't mean reading them in frustrated haste for the full millionth time after an hour or so of begging by a wee child, but really read them. In fact, draw a chair, get the lighting just right, pour a glass of wine and open up, Pinkie Salks. First off, yes, the title is a dead giveaway. We have here the tale of a young lad whose family has not been considerate of his feelings. Despite their efforts at reconciliation, Pinkie Salks outside his house for a day and a half. The set of values and intelligence of Pinkie's parents is wonderful. They have clearly decided that when he is ready, he'll finish sulking and not before. While letting him know that they care, they don't badger. Though his father does say he is a baby for sulking for so long. And Pinkie spends a couple of nights outside in his hammock, well covered up, of course. Ultimately, however, Pinkie decides to relent after all his family has

been trying to be sweet and considerate. Also, they pulled out all the big guns of persuasion, visiting clowns, flowers picked by his sister, candy from his favorite grandmother, cake and sandwiches from his brother and sister as well. Pinkie figures out a way to give in while still keeping his self-respect. The gentle reader of Pinkie Salks will learn how important it is to be considerate of other's feelings and good methods of trying to make up with someone without guilt or embarrassment. Such simple things to learn, but don't we as adults need to be reminded occasionally of these fundamentals? We give these books to our children to read as moral lessons we often could benefit from refresher courses ourselves. Stig's other book I read was The Zavajava Jungle. Here of the tale is Leonard, who we encounter in the process of slashing his way into The Zavajava Jungle. What follows is an Indiana Jones type adventure with a measure of the surreal and fantastic. It's rather

like a child's version of Bunuel and Dali's The Andalusian Dog. Man-eating plants have Leonard on the menu. He saves a giant butterfly from the jaws of a flower and explores the inside of a petrified monster, exiting eventually through the great cloaca. What is a cloaca you ask? Well, your child will ask you, so when reading this story you better look it up. More adventures of a quite unusual nature occur with the conclusion, including a giant firework display and Leonard rescuing his parents. What a great story to inspire the imagination. Both books are illustrated with amusing and fun color drawings. There is no indication what age these works are recommended for. This is a good thing, as they have a message even for adults. There is no reason not to delight the child in you by reading a children's story today. This is Andrea Linton.

Gabrielle Garcia Marquez is well known for his 100 Years of Solitude. In 1988 his book, Love in the Time of Colourer, made its appearance in English. First, I thank my lucky stars that it was translated. Though after the international success of 100 years, how could it be otherwise? And secondly, I thank my dear friend whose fervent raptures about Love in the Time of Colourer induce me to read it. This is one of those rare books that one one finishes, one sets it down and think. You mean from the top, Lord? That's what I was going to say to you at my boyfriends three-year-old. He goes, where? Gabrielle Garcia Marquez is well known for his 100 Years of Solitude. In 1988 his book, Love in the Time of Colourer, made its appearance

in English. First, I thank my lucky stars that it was translated. Though after the international success of 100 years, how could it be otherwise? And secondly, I thank my dear friend whose fervent raptures about Love in the Time of Colourer induced me to read it. This is one of those rare books that when one finishes, one sets it down and thinks, this is what fine writing is all about. The structure, the characters, the words, the theme that is woven through the story, like the varying nature of a melody, at one moment calm and placid, then the next turbulent and powerful. Love in the Time of Colourer traces the story of a 51-year-old unrequited love. Florentino Ariza, a man with the soul of a poet and the patience of a saint, waits for more than half a century to reclaim the love of his youth, for Mina

Daza. They had once been pledged to marry, then she rejects him and marries a prominent member of the city, a doctor. This passing half century is full of all the usual events of life, but the difference in its retelling is Marquez's grace and style in diverting for a page or two or three from the main story to incidents that occur to both the central characters. Of course, we come to know them as we would relatives whose lives we follow. The intimacy is there, but the time is compressed into a 348-page book of richly described life. As the half century passes, Florentino Ariza remains faithful to Mina Daza in his heart. His affairs of the flesh, being those of an evermore mature man. When it last for Mina Daza's husband dies, Ariza writes letters of consolation to her that eventually result in their reunion in friendship. Slowly their friendship matures again into the love

they felt before for one another, but this time we have the pleasure of observing a love both physical and mental, that is mature, stately and reasoned. Love in the time of cholera is so beautifully romantic, romantic in the most sophisticated and joyous way. The title serves as a metaphor for the effect that the passion of love can have on us. One can feel fevered without appetite, and half out of one's mind with the desire to see one's beloved. Within the book, the outbreak of cholera serves as an indication of the strength and endurance of love. At last, the book closes with the most clever use of the quarantine required in cholera cases, as a means by which to preserve the privacy of a final voyage for Mina and Florentino take together. The book deserves the status of a classic. If you haven't read it yet, all the hyperbole you have heard about it is true. If you have

read it, what more needs to be said? This is Andrea Linton. In hunting the other day at the library for books for children, I was delighted to run across a series of works by Ernest Raboff in subtitled. In hunting the other day at the library for books for children, I was delighted to run across a series of works by Ernest Raboff, subtitled, art for children. Each book focuses on one artist. I chose the ones on Paul Clee, Mark Shagall and Paul Gogan. Now, I was very interested to see how Raboff handled presenting the works of such complex artists as these to the child reader. The subtitle of this series, art for children, could be a bit misleading. Many

works by Gogan, for instance, could hardly be appropriate for young people. Clearly, Raboff is seeking to introduce children to the world of art and has jumped in with both feet. I was impressed by his boldness in his selections. I then, unfortunately, was disappointed by his handling of this task. While the books contain great color reproductions of works by the artist, and the print is large and simple to read, Raboff is clearly struggling with the dilemma of the fact that children includes young people from ages three to twelve. Each book contains ideas and concepts tailored to the widely different levels of maturity in this age spectrum. He does a good job of pointing out the art as use of color, interlocking forms, composition, and different perceptions of the world. Raboff also presents some very complex observations in the area of art appreciation. I felt that

they would go way over the head of most of his young readers. His worst sin, however, in my eyes, is his introduction of his own interpretation of what the artist's message is in their works. As adults, we have to struggle in order to feel confident about our own assessment of the art we look at. If we are in the position to teach youngsters about art, one of our fundamental concerns should be to train them to have opinions of their own. A second transgression of Raboff's is his oversimplification and misrepresentation about these artists. The worst example is his dealing with Paul Goggan, and having him come off sounding like just a real nice guy searching for the simple native life in sunny Tahiti. Of course, it would be quite difficult to tactfully present Goggan's many affairs with young native girls or his sad decay into obsessiveness and ill-health. Sanitized versions of artist lives, however, make it impossible for the student of art no matter

what their age to gain a full understanding and appreciation of the accomplishments of that artist. I feel that these books by Raboff, there are 16 in the series, would be helpful for a youngster who has had some exposure already to art and art appreciation classes. They should also be read in the company of someone who could point out different interpretations of the works. The concept and purpose of these books is excellent. It is a pity that they are so uneven in their treatment. This is Andrea Linton. Peter Matheson has been writing both fiction and nonfiction work for years. I remember reading his The Tree Where Man Was Born While In High School, and being astounded by the author's sensitivity to nature and skill in the observation of small but telling occurrences. The skill transfers from Matheson's nonfiction to his fiction work. On the River Styx is

a collection of short stories covering a writing period from 1951 to 1988. I found it particularly impressive that in the course of close to 40 years, Matheson's style and command of his writing skills has always been excellent. Rather than seeing an author in the process of maturing, these stories give frank evidence that Matheson has long been a superb writer. In this collection are tales of a disparate group of characters, a black man on the run from the law, an Indian wolf hunter, a travel writer on board of freighters sailing the east coast of South America, a young woman doing volunteer work after World War II at a mental hospital. With all of the Matheson reflects on events that serves as historical markers in their lives. Each tale, for me, had a note of melancholy about it. The sadness stemming not from a lamentation on the inevitability of one's fate, but a pervasive notion that

life could have gone so much differently at some point in the past for these characters. Let me assure you that Matheson's purpose is not to depress or dismay. Rather his message to me was that one must maintain a consistent vigilance in one's life in order to avoid a quote unavoidable, unquote, fate. Late in the season, concerned C.C. and Frank Avery are clearly not happily married couple. The reason for their dissatisfaction with each other is not clear, but it results in a constant bickering and baiting. The conflict in their relationship becomes focused one late autumn afternoon on a giant turtle slowly crossing the road in front of their car. In order to protect it from Frank, C.C. claims the turtle as hers. A protective gesture, however, only serves to turn the turtle into the focus of their mutual hostility. Frank is a man who always seeks revenge, and C.C.'s punishment

for her attachment to the turtle comes in a drawn-out evening when the fate of the animal is discussed with their farmer host. Frank deliberately torment C.C. with his logical reasons for killing the turtle. By the end of the evening, Frank is drunk. C.C. has tried to save the turtle by taking it outside to escape. Cruelly, Frank shoots the animal without killing it, increasing his wife's anguish. We know that the turtle has come to represent all the tenderness and affection lacking within the relationship between the Avery's. The manner of the turtles and ultimate death speaks volumes as to the future of that relationship. The quiet desperation, which seems to be a central theme in this collection of Mathes and Stories, is gently controlled by the author. Around the theme are woven, compelling little stories that do not fail to grip one's attention. While sadness pervades these works,

Peter Matheson leaves us with the challenge of struggling against a predictable end, we must at last be our own masters. This is Andrea Linden. For the past month, I've been captivated by a woman from the past. Frida Kahlo was born in 1907 and died in 1954. The majority of her life she lived in the outskirts of Mexico City. This is simply the skeleton of her life. As a response to a devastating accident and polio, Frida produced a body of work which serves as an extraordinary record of self-examination and introspection. An early bout with polio left one of her legs withered. As a young woman, Frida adopted native Mexican costumes with long-flowing skirts to hide her leg. This costume

assumed symbolic proportions for Frida as she matured. Not only did it serve to identify her with the working classes, an important asset as she became a devoted communist, but it drew attention to her being. Frida did not dress like anyone else in the circles in which she moved and she didn't look like anyone else. She made no attempt to distract one from her commanding eyebrows that ran in an almost continual line across her brow. Her sensual mouth and the sexually ambivalent mustache which is quite apparent in photos and frequently appears in her self-portraits. At the age of 18, Frida was involved in an accident that shattered her spine, crushed her pelvis, and broke a foot. For the rest of her life, Frida translated her suffering and pain into a series of self-portraits that are at once compelling and horrifying. Massed together, Frida's paintings may reveal

an obsessive struggle to deal with her broken body and the broken image of her being as a woman. Yet her sense of humour, the inclusion of elements of popular faith, and her surreal use of space in her paintings indicate a mind wholly alive to the richness of the world around her. That Frida enjoyed being alive is clearly evidence by those who knew her. She loved to sing Mexican folk songs, decorate her house and attend parties. Her circle of friends and acquaintances at first made, due to her position as Diego Rivera's wife, included Dolores Del Rio, Trotsky, Lewis Mumford, Alfred Stiglitz, Nelson and John Rockefeller, André Breton, Marcel Duchamp, and Paulette Goddard. That she was Rivera's wife adds more complexity to an accurate understanding of Frida. Compatible in many ways, respectful of each other's art and deeply devoted to each other, they both had frequent battles,

separations, and were divorced for a short time before remarrying. Rivera was consistently unfaithful, and though she accepted this as part of his nature, Frida's pain at this portrayal is clearly illustrated in several of her self-portraits. Frida Carlos artwork is so closely bound to the events of her life it serves as a paradigm of the connection between psyche and creativity. That it is so apparent a relationship is due to the intensity with which Frida lived her life. Much of Frida's behaviour was done for show. She was very sure of stage managing her own public image. Herrera's biography, by drawing upon Frida's journals and letters, newspaper accounts and personal interviews, makes sure that we see behind the stage setting and come to an understanding of the forces that molded Frida and her work. Complex, insightful, creative, tender, body, sensual, fascinating,

tormented, and extremely self-aware, all of these were Frida Kahlo. Her suffering served not as a source of self-pity but of strength. I urge you to introduce yourself to a most compelling individual and artist, Frida Kahlo. This is Andrea Linden. Marguerite Durar is a French authoress living in Paris. Emily L. was written in 1987 and became an immediate bestseller in France. This past year it appeared in translation in the US. It is near the end of summer in a port town in France. A couple, whose names we never learn, are sitting in a bar. They have come to this town, to this bar, for several

summers. Their story is presented in the first and second person, almost as if it was a transcript of testimony of a series of events. The woman is a writer. She was born in Siam, an early childhood memories make her fearful of Asians. We are not told what the man, her partner, does. We come to know quickly, however, that while these two people are in love, there is a despair about their relationship. Their love is alive and binds them to one another, but it is as if the maturity of their relationship, the knowing of someone very well after many experiences together, has created a band, not of comfortable reliance, but of fatalism and routine. Something has happened between this man and this woman. They are compelled to be together, but there is no deep joy in their union. They observe also sitting at the bar, an Englishman, a yacht captain, and his wife. The retreat from their own relationship

draws the couple's attention to this other man and woman. Conversations with the manager s of the bar and between the two couples reveal that the captain and his wife have been traveling the seas for years. The wife is slowly losing her mind, and the both of them have taken to drink to blunt the edge of their pain. The captain and his wife met when he was hired by her wealthy father to captain the family yacht. They fell in love, the father disapproved, they lived together for ten years until the father s death, and then married. During those first ten years together, the woman wrote poetry for a short while. The captain found himself jealous of this world she was able to create that bore no mention of him that was not affected by their relationship. After her father s death, they had the means to travel and have done so ever since. There are now, at the end of their time together,

the wife s unstable mind will rapidly separate them. But their passion for each other, the captain s concern for her, the way his wife leans her head upon his shoulder in weary despair, give evidence of the tragedy of a dying union. What connects these two couples? It is not at first apparent since Duraar separates their stories. The first half of the book focuses on the woman and man, the second on the captain and his wife. The key I think is that both women are or have been writers. Both of the men feel unable to fathom this part of their partner s lives. Duraar is not creating a feminist statement, but uses writing with its attendant introspection as a metaphor for the forces that create wedges between those in love. Emily L. is a beautifully written, moving and succinct heartache. This is Andrea Linton. I realize that I was going to have trouble with Nicholas Freelings, recent novel,

not as far as Valmer, very shortly after I started it. It s not that I couldn t accustomed myself to the rather some nambulant pacing, the tenuously connected plot or the in-references that leave us cast a drift if we re not in the now. My principal objection is the scarcity of substance which passes as style. Freelings has written a book that made me feel as if I was in an alcoholic stupor when reading. I wasn t quite sure why characters were saying what they did to one another, as unfinished business seemed to be the order of the day. Nor was it easy to gain any real affection or distaste for that matter, for anyone in the novel. Freelings has written a prodigious quantity of detective novels. I am most familiar with his character, Piet Van der Volk, a Dutch policeman. While I was in high school, my parents acquired a taste for Van der Volk and I read these books as well. I loved Freelings

descriptive qualities about the countryside in Holland and the real affection one gained for the personable character as he developed from novel to novel. Not as far as Velma features French detective Henri Guestang and gives evidence to me that Freelings has since created a formula for his detective stories that is, in essence, a shorthand. Perhaps we are seeing a bit of on-wee, a lack of fresh ideas in a prolific author. For some of you, the title may ring a bell. It is drawn from a novel by Raymond Chandler and is designed to remind us of how characters in Chandler novels drew down the curtain on themselves when they wish to disappear. This is the theme of Freelings' current work, but by paying homage to Chandler, Freelings opens the door to comparisons of style, content and general Alan. Of course, he cannot stand the test. I'll admit that this literary reference ticked

me off as Chandler is quite a favorite of mine. I find myself thinking of Senator Benson Shiding, then candidate Dan Quayle, for the latter's attempt to draw parallels between himself and a young JFK. Not as far as Velma is the story of Guestang's investigation of two seemingly unrelated events. The female owner of a discrete boarding house that caters to man vanishes one day. A name in her register book leads Guestang to an elderly Jewish painter who never visited this woman. A bomb blast partially destroys the home of an order of nuns who specialize in aid work in Third World Countries. Just recently, a group of these nuns has returned from Central America where they had been witnessed to the hijacking of some contra gun money by a Parisian freelance journalist. We discover that the journalist is actually the illegitimate son of the painter, though they have never

met. The son knows of his father and has used his name in the boarding house registry. The journalist and the boarding house owner are lovers and are now on the run, undercover in order to avoid revenge by those whose money the journalist has stolen. The journalist gives the money via bank account to his father. The father happens to be painting the portrait of a bishop who is in charge of the order of nuns whose resident has been bombed. The painter donates the money to the bishop for worthy causes. Actually, I'm amazed that I managed to state the plot line so succinctly. It's still confusing and feeling doesn't do us any favors by cloaking it in very murky action. The end that befalls the journalist and his lover, I'll admit, moved me a great deal. In a way, however, it was too good for the rest of the book. If you want to read good Nicholas Freeling, read his earlier books or better yet, pick up Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye. This is Andrea Linton. Justin Powell III. One thing quickly becomes clear when reading by the rivers of Babylon

and other stories. Its author, Jorge de Sina, is an amazingly erudite and sophisticated writer. Born in 1919 in Lisbon, Sona began writing poetry at age 16. Sooner after, he experimented with short fiction pieces, and during the course of his career wrote essays, literary history and analysis, dramas, novels and novellas, translations, as well as his own poetry and short stories. The critical essays and literary analysis fill more than 20 volumes. The translations include works by Poe, Hemingway, Wa, Faulkner and Mauro. Politically active, Sona exiled himself from Portugal to Brazil in 1959. There he taught theory of literature and Portuguese literature for the University of Sao Paulo. At the same

time, Sona expanded his literary endeavours to include music, theatre and film criticism. When the military came to power in Brazil in 1965, Sona moved to the United States. First as a visiting professor at Madison, Wisconsin, then as chairman of the Departments of Spanish and Portuguese and of Conclete at the University of California at Santa Barbara. In the years since his death in 1978, Sona's poetry and fiction have been translated into many languages. One can begin to understand the problems translators face when reading Sona's short stories in by the rivers of Babylon. His style is rich and complex, with many clauses to a sentence, weaving a dense material of narrative, at times astonishing in its following thread, at times startling in its conclusion. I'm reminded of the descriptive style of Victorian

writers or of Gabrielle Garcia Marquez, though Sona does not write with Marquez's enjoyment of life. While both Marquez and Sona have as their focus individual characters, Sona surrounds his characters with a construction of events which defines their individuality rather than delving into moments of personal reflection. In fact, several of these short stories involve no dialogue or understanding of the characters must be drawn from the reporting of their behavior. This style sometimes results in perplexities about what or why things have happened. Or to the good, however, we are not allowed the comfort of predictable endings, often when we return to final sentences or paragraphs in order to deal with the surprise. According to the editor's preface, Sona wrote notes on each story which helped explain his concerns or focus. However, these notes have been excluded as the editor felt

that the stories, though difficult, were accessible without them. I rather wish we had been allowed to make that decision ourselves. Three of the stories, C of stones, a knight of negativity and the great secret, deal with Sona's concern with early Christianity and Sataniness and reveal his grasp of historical detail and nuance. Karma and the genie is a fascinating excursion into the world shall that be worlds of reincarnation. The intellectual rationalizations of Nazism are examined in defense and justification of a thermal war criminal. Sona's lifelong hatred of fascism is revealed in the scathing story of a former Nazis pride in social experiments he conducted during the war. The story of the duckfish is an oddly lyric tale of a solitary man and a strange fish he comes across. Originally

intended as a children's story, its ending is harsh and surprising and perhaps displays Sona's realistic view of the world as a place that does not allow for storybook endings. My favorite of these short stories is the corner room. Its full, long, elaborate sentences powerfully evoke the aging life of a widow. Her obsession with the decaying fragments of her clothing and herself imprisonment in her apartment. Her involvement in the neighborhood comes from her observations through one window of her apartment. Her interests focusing on a young man and woman as they become lovers and then break apart. The finale is curiously reminiscent for me of a film of Vivian Lee's entitled The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone. Sona will be an acquired taste for most. It will take discipline to remain focused on

the flow of his narrative. His range of interests and his great skill as a writer are apparent that he is quite probably a pessimist will make you admire but not necessarily be thrilled by his stories. This is Andrea Linton. I was in the mood for an historical novel. A touchstone to Times Past, a vision of bygone days. So I selected Amin Maloof's novel Leo Afrocanos. Leo Afrocanos was the Christian name of the 15th century Mausoleum Geographer Hasim al Wazan. Born in Grenada, Hassan and his family fled the Christian reconquest of Spain, settling in Fers. From there Hassan travels the east from Mecca to Constantinople as a trader and political emissary. He meets the famous pirate Barbarossa, witnesses the

overthrow of Egypt by the Ottomans, is kidnapped by Sicilian pirates and is presented to Pope Leo the 10th as a gift. Hasan becomes intimate with many members of the Medici family and survives the invasion of Italy by the forces of Emperor Charles V of Spain. In short, what historical events of the late 15th, early 16th century in the Mediterranean is Hassan not involved in? According to Maloof, Hassan was in the right place at the right time for over 40 years. When you add together the opulence and uniqueness of Mourish Grenada, the excitement of training caravans in the Middle East and international wars and religious conflicts with beautiful slave girls, a Circassian princess and a stunning young Christian Navitiate, all who become successive wives to Hassan, you should have a thrilling, intriguing,

and enthralling slice of history. Come to think of it, that's not just a slice, that's a better part of a pie. Regretfully, I was dissatisfied by this novel. Maloof frequently missed opportunities to present a full picture of events of the period. While Hassan seems to be in the thick of the action, we are left on the sidelines wondering what the heck is going on. A deep background in Islamic and Christian history of the period would be very helpful. I would also like to get my hands on a copy of the work that Hassan is known for, the description of Africa, hence his nickname Leo Africannis. This novel peaked my curiosity about the Mediterranean during the 16th century. There must be so much that is exciting, curious, and provocative about the period, but it is a pity that an author seeks to spice things up with rather superfluous romantic entanglements. Leo Africannis is a journey worth taking, but only if you can't find a first

town account of life during the period. This is Andrea Linton. You are white. You are politically active. You are liberal. You love your country. You are born and grow up in South Africa. Born in 1945, you come to maturity during a period marked by a growth of the black resistance movement and increasingly repressive changes in the white government. You become increasingly aware as you travel the country and deal with the needs of the constituents that the apartheid government's policies can only be the result of a concerted determined plan to destroy blacks and black resistance by the most heinous means imaginable. In 1983, the government unveils their plans for the first major constitutional change since 1910.

In it, provisions are made for granting a limited form of representation to the colored people, in other words, people of mixed race, and the Indian people of South Africa. You realize that the exclusion of the blacks from representation can only result in uniting black opposition into a desperate and increasingly aggressive bid for political power. You exile yourself from your motherland and continue your efforts for an end to apartheid from your adopted country. This is Janet Levine's life as recounted in her book Inside a Pathide, One Woman's Struggle in South Africa. The majority of the rest of this review is in her words since she can speak better than I. Like much else in the apartheid regime's own brand of double talk, the homelands is an insensitive misnomer. The people who are

falsely removed to the homelands are unwilling and impotent victims of a grand apartheid design made law in the early 1970s. The intent of the design, the removals, is to divide South Africa into racially separate areas with 80% of the land remaining in the hands of 13% of the population, the whites. When I first land of the terms of Helen Joseph's a long time political activist and liberal politician banning order, I was horrified. I did not know that hundreds of others would become the victims of the same repression. A, she must remain in her home from 6.30 PM until 6.30 AM every weekday and from 2.30 PM on Saturday until Monday morning and on all public holidays. B, she may have no visitors there except her doctor unless the doctor is a listed person

in other words one who cannot be published or address the public and her attorney may also visit her only under the same conditions. C, she must report to the police headquarters between 12 noon and 2.00 PM every day except Sunday and public holidays. D, she may not attend any gathering including gatherings at which the persons present have social intercourse with one another. Her writings and statements may not be published. E, she may not communicate in any way whatsoever with anyone whose name has been listed or who has been served with the banning order. F, she may not leave the magisterial district of Johannesburg, nor may she enter any African township, compound or hostile or any factory premises. Helen Joseph was house arrested for an undisclosed offense without trial and without any opportunity to defend herself. It was illegal to publish any

statement by her. It still it was. And unquestionably the ground had shifted in South African politics during the constitutional debate of 1983. It had moved massively toward the nationalistic black liberation struggle away from liberal human rights issues. Knowing that is perhaps the reason I no longer felt convinced that my moral motivation for an involvement in the struggle was relevant. The government had thrown down the gauntlet to black resistance. The new constitution screamed at black activists that their only option was to overthrow the government and write their rights into a constitution of their own. Not all of Levine's writing is strong. Some of it sounds like an apology, some self-pity, some aggrandizement. That is, if you are cynical. Otherwise, this is a rare, intelligent and disheartening examination of the evils of apartheid

and it's foreseeable conclusion. This is Andrea Linton.