Kacowicz's book "Zones of Peace in the Third World," is a welcome addition to the international relations literature on the reasons for peace and conflict. While much has been written about democratic peace and the building of community in the west and amongst democracies, the treatment of peaceful communities outside the west and outside of the democratic world have been sorely lacking. Kacowicz addresses this gap well while providing a well thought out theory to explain the phenomena. His coverage of peaceful regions outside the West gets past the Euro-centric focus of much of IR literature and broadens the discussion theoretically by attempting to explain extended peace without democracy. In addition, he provides a clear and concise review of the literature that is helpful for those who wish to explore this topic more fully. Structurally the argument is presented very clearly and can serve as a model for how to present theory and case studies at the graduate and undergraduate level.

I have been a Rush fan for many years, and as a drummer, a Neil Peart fan for many years. For those who actually READ Neil's lyrics, you know that he is an intelligent, philosophical, and insightful writer. I was curious, however, how that style of writing would translate into a book about an African bicycle adventure. I had visions of long winded diatribes about the state of government affairs in West Africa...To my surprise, it was a most enjoyable, light-hearted, read that emphasized not only the African culture he encountered, but the most engaging dynamic between he and his riding companions. I found myself drawn into that interplay as much as, if not more than, the scenery and culture that he so eloquently descibes. Rush fan or not, this is an excellent book, that comes highly recommended from this reader!

Lets face it - I've been a Rush fan all my life and curiosity is the only reason I bought this book. But its not the reason I read it twice. And three times...

Neil Peart is a good writer, intelligent and thoughtful. He is a thinker and passionate about communication. This is one of the reasons I am a Rush fan. The is one of the reasons I like this book.

But the other reason is that I am a cyclist.

And lets not forget this is primarily a book about cycling. There is almost nothing about the band and his musical career. Its all about his cycling adventure in Africa. If you are looking for gossip and trivia about Rush then don't read it, you will be disappointed. Its purely about the struggle of cycling, the mechanics, the exhaustion, the thrill and the zen. Its a great read if you have been through it yourself. If you are thinking about throwing yourself into your own trip - then read this book. If don't like cycling but wonder why anyone would put themselves through it - then read this book.

Consider this - I liked the book so much I took it with me on my last cycling trip across New Brunswick. I never take books with me when I cycle because they weigh too much and I am often too tired to read them. But I took this one. I carried it over a thousand kilometers, up and down hills, through scorching heat, fog and driving rain. It was worth the weight.

Suffice it to say that a fan of an author tends to be prejudice, but coming from a person who rarely enjoys reading books about documentaries, I find this book quite fascinating and at times humorous. To be truly honest with the potential reader of said book, regardless if you are or are not a fan of Rush, this book transcends the barriers of your typical image of a rock musician and delves into the mind of the lyricist Neil Peart. His book‹simplistic and at the same time complex‹weaves the the struggles of riding under the sun's fury as his fellow riders share the pains of men with guns, sickly starving people, eating a morsel that may not agree with you to the brisk freedom of riding the rugged as well as challenging roads of Africa. It also shows‹though in words‹that Africa is not a vast plains of nothingness like the Sahara Desert or monkeys swing through trees like a Tarzan movie, but well diverse race of people who to my stereotypes are French-speaking-soda-drinking-folks of a rich culture. Peart's story allows you to see him ride the roads of West Africa and feel the sweat, pain, stomach-churning,fear, excitement, pleasures, happiness, as well as an insight of his beliefs on religion thus eliminating the ever-so-popular quote "I-thought-I-knew-Neil-because-I-am-his-number-one-fan." This book the masked Rider is a lesson of humility; realizing there is more to the man as well as the band than I thought. Also, check out the band's music. If there is a prerequisite to this book, buy their C.D. Why you may ask? To understand what Peart is saying in his book, the C.D. is the best source of this man's insight

This is a book for any woman who has attempted or dreamed of aquixotic quest. The year is 1964 in newly independent Africa whenauthor Kennedy and four fellow Peace Corps volunteers brave the relentless Harmattan winds across the forbidding Sahara desert. The women do not let the lack of money or safe transportation deter them. If they had thought to ask for advice they would have been told that the trip was impossible, but no one asked. The travelers, on summer break from their teaching jobs, are more acquaintances than friends. Each is changed by the experience, but it is through Kennedy's eyes that we watch the desert test and forge the woman she will become. Her lyrical writing, spiced with a wry humor, involves the reader from the first paragraph: . . . . . . . . . ."Zinder was the place on the edge of the Sahara where they kept and told the desert stories. They knew of the men lost­sixteen Arabs in three trucks swallowed last spring­and those spared, praise Allah, to return to Zinder. A strange sort of anticipation permeated life there, a foreboding of misfortune inevitable as the wind swirling dust through the alleys, against the ancient ageless mesquite, under skirts, and over piles of peppers and yams. The Harmattan blew. Resignation replaced hope. Endurance meant survival. Despite the wind, winter was the preferred time for travel in the desert. Death, the people said, accompanied the summer trips of fools.". . . . . . . .As a reader, I immediately signed on for this journey. When the five women leave the desert at Algiers, I felt an exhilaration, a feeling of accomplishment. My life also had been enriched by their journey. For I now too am the keeper of one of the stories told by the old men on the edge of the desert, the story of "desmoiselles formidables."

They had no vehicle, tents, sleeping bags and not much money, but they did have what that first wave of Peace Corps workers in the early sixties had in big quantities: guts, idealism and luck. It was enough to get five American women teaching in Liberia across the Sahara desert without so much as an expedition plan between them. Geraldine Kennedy took off into the world's largest desert with four friends in 1964, bearing the grief of JFK's death into a world in transition. The French influence in Upper Volta, Niger and Algeria was fading and Kennedy skillfully captures the lonely, desperate lives of those stranded French colonials who help sustain the young Americans along the way across the desert. The group runs into a host of obstacles, but perhaps the most brutal was the "harmattan," the incessant wind that blows across the Sahara, lashing the group as it slogged north on trucks, sheep transports, army convoys, oil rigs and taxis. They had to ward off amouous, gun-wielding officials, racist truckers, locusts and friction among themselves. Their Sahara adventure was the highlight of their Peace Corps hitch and landed them on the front page of the "New York Times." Kennedy was the group's leader and as a writer she is at her best when they stop in towns, oases and encampments where they had a chance to settle in for a few days and interact with merchants, officials and missionaries. Unfortunately, the group had little contact with locals such as the Tuaregs or Berbers, and these indigenous nomads are only a peripheral part of the journey. It would have been nice to get more of the cultural and historical backdrop of the region, but the book contrates on the effort, consuming enough, to push through the desert. Part of Kennedy's motivation to write this book was to inspire her children to make their own improbable journeys

This is a book for any woman who has attempted or dreamed of a quixotic quest. The year is 1964 in newly independent Africa when author Kennedy and four fellow Peace Corps volunteers brave the relentless Harmattan winds across the forbidding Sahara desert. The women do not let the lack of money or safe transportation deter them. If they had thought to ask for advice they would have been told that the trip was impossible, but no one asked. The travelers, on summer break from their teaching jobs, are more acquaintances than friends. Each is changed by the experience, but it is through Kennedy's eyes that we watch the desert test and forge the woman she will become. Her lyrical writing, spiced with a wry humor, involves the reader from the first paragraph: . . . . . . . . . ."Zinder was the place on the edge of the Sahara where they kept and told the desert stories. They knew of the men lost­sixteen Arabs in three trucks swallowed last spring­and those spared, praise Allah, to return to Zinder. A strange sort of anticipation permeated life there, a foreboding of misfortune inevitable as the wind swirling dust through the alleys, against the ancient ageless mesquite, under skirts, and over piles of peppers and yams. The Harmattan blew. Resignation replaced hope. Endurance meant survival. Despite the wind, winter was the preferred time for travel in the desert. Death, the people said, accompanied the summer trips of fools.". . . . . . . .As a reader, I immediately signed on for this journey. When the five women leave the desert at Algiers, I felt an exhilaration, a feeling of accomplishment. My life also had been enriched by their journey. For I now too am the keeper of one of the stories told by the old men on the edge of the desert, the story of "desmoiselles formidables."

I was very impressed with Reverend Addo's rendition of West African folktales. As a Masters Student in English Literature, I found the stories to be clever, amusing and educational. The crafty spider, Ananse, has a bit of us all in him--the parts that we like about ourselves, and the parts that we wish to change. He is good at thinking on his feet, as when he protected his catch of yummy catfish from the lion, king of the jungle, or when he fulfilled a seemingly impossible task assigned by God, securing the spider's place as the Main Hero of Folktales.

Yet Ananse also demonstrates greed and selfishness, and the tales show how those traits lead to trouble. When a famine leads to death and starvation, the greedy spider finds a source of food, but does not share it with his family. Addo spins a tale of actions and consequences that is not only amusing, but one that reminds us all of the need for generosity.

As a new mother, I am glad to have "How the Spider Became Bald" as part of my daughter's book collection. This book allows me to foster multiculturalism, by sharing West African legends, and it also gives me an opportunity to show her how people everywhere are basically the same. I definitely recommend this book for any parent and anyone interested in African/African-American Studies.

Children and adults will find this book, How the Spider Became Bald, enjoyable and informative. It shares the culture of West Africa and transmits wisdom and a philosophy that we can apply to our lives. Peter Eric Adotey Addo's presentation at the Benjamin Branch was, highly, received.

OVER CHRISTMAS I SPENT SOME TIME IN GREENSBORO NORTH CAROLINA AND CAME ACROSS A CHRISTMAS STORY THAT WAS PRINTED IN THE PAPER. REV. ADDO'S X'MAS STORY PEAKED MY CURIOUSITY AND I PROCEEDED TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR. HIS STORIES TEACH MORALS THAT OUR CHILDREN HAVE BEEN LACKING. THE STORIES ARE AS TIMELESS AS AESOP'S FABLES AND THE MORALS ARE THE FOUNDATION THAT OUR CHILDREN ARE IN NEED OF. THE USE OF THE SPIDER IS AMUSING. I ENCOURAGE MORE PARENTS TO USE THIS BOOK AS A LEARNING GROUND FOR THEIR CHILDREN.

In Sembene Ousmane's "God's Bits Of Wood" there is a detectable apect of human rights that surpasses all distinction. He points out the dilemmas of a neo-colonial state without giving them the weight of the novel. This novel utilizes this historical event to show humans at their best. The book shows the power of humankind to become humane without compromise. He displays well his ideas on race, gender, and human rights but by the end of the book we are led to an even more enlightening state of thinking and existing, which is to live without hate, even those who hate you, "[...] you must not let hatred enter your heart" (191). This is truly a great message to give while expressing such a triumphant story and event.
The novel also seems to contain a little intertextuality with the poetry of Muyaka (a 19th century poet who composed orally in his native tongue of Kiswahili and never saw the effects of colonialism). This relationship is most notable after reading his famous poem "Seeing Is Believing" (Ua La Manga)
-I've seen a hyena and a goat keeping good company.
-Also a hen and a hawk bringing up their chicks together
-And a blind person showing peopl the way;
-This was not told to me, I obvserved it with my own eyes.
I see the relationship throughout this poem but specifically with the third line, since one of the leaders of "Gods Bits Of Wood" is a blind woman named Maimouna, "All of the women seemed to want to walk behind Maimouna [...]" (201).
Ousmane also confronts the question of African Literature, and whether it can exist any mediums other than indigenous African languages. Throughout the book, which was originally, written in French, Ousmane will say such and such said in French when the novel clearly is already in French, "and then, holding out his hand to the two whit men, he added in French, 'Good morning, gentlemen" (125). By doing this throughout the novel Ousmane implies that the original is truly not in French but only exists that way (and in its English form) to cater to us, almost in an act of charity. The lines from one of the main characters embody this greatly, "That is all I had to say, and I have said it in French so that he would understnad me, although I think this meeting should have been conducted in Oulof, since that is our language" (177). He has written his novel in French for the same reason that Bakayoko speaks in it, because unlike Bakayoko,(and Ousmane) the French despite being surrounded by Oulof never picked it up.
All in all Ousmane accomplishes creating literature that is worthy of the world reading it. Like so much of African Literature it is masterful, new and refreshing, but sad because it is not enjoyed as widely as it should be.

Sembene Ousmane's third novel, God's Bits of Wood, was originally written and published in French as Les Bouts de bois de Dieu. The novel is set in pre-independence Senegal and follows the struggles of the African trainworkers in three cities as they go on strike against their French employers in an effort for equal benefits and compensation. The chapters of the book shift between the cities of Bamako, Thies, and Dakar and track the actions and growth of the men and women whose lives are transformed by the strike. Rather than number the chapters, Ousmane has labeled them by the city in which they take place, and the character who is the focal point of that chapter.

As the strike progresses, the French management decides to "starve out" the striking workers by cutting off local access to water and applying pressure on local merchants to prevent those shop owners from selling food on credit to the striking families. The men who once acted as providers for their family, now rely on their wives to scrape together enough food in order to feed the families. The new, more obvious reliance on women as providers begins to embolden the women. Since the women now suffer along with their striking husbands, the wives soon see themselves as active strikers as well.

The strategy of the French managers, or toubabs as the African workers call them, of using lack of food and water to pressure the strikers back to work, instead crystallizes for workers and their families the gross inequities that exist between them and their French employers. The growing hardships faced by the families only strengthens their resolve, especially that of the women. In fact, some of the husbands that consider faltering are forced into resoluteness by their wives. It is the women, not the men, who defend themselves with violence and clash with the armed French forces.

The women instinctively realize that women who are able to stand up to white men carrying guns are also able to assert themselves in their homes and villages, and make themselves a part of the decision making processes in their communities. The strike begins the awakening process, enabling the women to see themselves as active participants in their own lives and persons of influence in their society.

This book is wonderful yet sadly under-appreciated. Ousmane's handling of issues such as the politics of language, indigenous resistence, the cultural costs of forced industrialization, and the changing role of women really has the power to change the way people think. And yet, maybe the book's reach and resonance are the reasons that God's Bits of Wood is not widely read and taught in schools.

Truly one of my favorite novels. Sembene Ousmane vigorously engages the complex politics of post-colonial revolutionary struggle, while maintaining a humanistic artistic base of pure poetry. Also, Sembene Ousmane is one of a precious few male authors who creates dynamic, thinking, feeling female characters. Read this book--it's a gem.

Life and love, hardship and adventure, romance and history - all beautifully woven into a delightful autobiography of an unlikely heroine. The daughter of a poor white farmer trying to eke out a living in untamed and uncharted Africa, Beryl Markham rose from very humble beginnings to become a successful horse trainer, bush pilot, and the first person to fly east-to-west across the Atlantic from England. Her fantastic life seems to be one adventure after another, coincidentally commingled with the lives of Isak Dinesen (the author and heroine of "Out of Africa") and Denys Finch Hatton (played by Robert Redford in the movie, OOA). On this level alone, that of an adventure-packed historical tale, this book is compelling. But the absolute poetry of the narrative makes it inescapable.

Ms. Markham's inimitable flair for description and metaphor are enchantingly powerful. One could truly open the book to any random page and find a treasure. No previous knowledge of plot or precedence would be vital to the enjoyment. That such extraordinary prose also reveals an incredible life provides a rich dividend. Savor the following corsage randomly plucked from the bouquet:

"Arab Ruta... is of the tribe that observes with equal respect the soft voice and the hardened hand, the fullness of a flower, the quick finality of death. His is the laughter of a free man happy at his work, a strong man with lust for living. He is not black. His skin holds the sheen and warmth of used copper. His eyes are dark and wide-spaced, his nose is full-boned and capable of arrogance.

"He is arrogant now, swinging the propeller, laying his lean hands on the curved wood, feeling an exultant kinship in the coiled resistance to his thrust.

"He swings hard. A splutter, a strangled cough from the engine like the premature stirring of a sleep-slugged labourer. In the cockpit I push gently on the throttle, easing it forward, rousing the motor, feeding it, soothing it."

My first encounter with this charming book was accidental but fortuitous. I found the paperback in an airport bookstore, and stayed engrossed and enchanted by the lyrical meanderings for the entirety of my three-hour flight. A few years later I discovered the audio version which springs to an even greater life in the voice of Julie Harris. Her reading of the horse race that proved to be a watershed moment for Ms. Markham, still has the capacity to choke me to tears, though I have listened to it many times.

A few reviewers here have given less than laudatory reviews. This book is absolutely among the top five I have ever read, and I must pity those unfortunate souls who are tone-deaf to the rhapsodic music playing among its pages. Never mind my glowing endorsement. Never mind that Ernest Hemmingway said that Beryl Markham "has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer." Just find this book and open it randomly to any page. You will quickly discover that this book is an extraordinary encounter. Don't miss it!

Whoever wrote it, "West With the Night" is a lyrically beautiful story of an amazing life: Beryl Markham arrived in Africa in 1905 at the age of three, she spent her childhood on her father's farm, learning all about African people and wildlife; she became a horse-trainer (racing was surprisingly popular in colonial Kenya); she was the first woman in Africa to have a pilot's license, working as a freelance pilot in Kenya; she was the first person to fly solo non-stop across the Atlantic East-to-West (hence the book's title). This book is an interesting and very readable documentation of Kenya in the era of Isak Dinesen, Bror Blixen, Denys Finch Hatton, et al (all of whom she knew). Hemingway praised this book lavishly, saying:

"Did you read Beryl Markham's book, "West with the Night"? I knew her fairly well in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except to write in her flyer's log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer. .... But this girl who is, to my knowledge, very unpleasant,... can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers. The only parts of it that I know about personally, on account of having been there at the time and heard the other people's stories, are absolutely true. So, you have to take as truth the early stuff about when she was a child which is absolutely superb. She omits some very fantastic stuff which I know about which would destroy much of the character of the heroine; but what is that anyhow in writing?"

As Hemingway may have suspected, Markham may not be the real author, and "West With the Night" does leave out major portions of her life; it would be a good idea to read it along with the biography of her life, "Straight On Till Morning: The Biography of Beryl Markham" by Mary Lovell (Lovell also wrote "A Rage to Live: A Biography of Richard and Isabel Burton").

Historic, personal, and romantic tales of a female pioneer in aviation fill the pages of West with the Night. It is beautifully written, poetry put into chapters to tell of the adventures of the developing African frontier. The book follows the life of the Beryl Markham, the author, giving the reader a view into the lives of her native friends, the small social world of the British settlers, and a young girl growing up as the result of the integrating cultures. She is, herself, both fresh and new, one of the first to develop a mindset of blended customs. Besides observing the profits of the British cultural invasion of East Africa, the reader is, all the while, taken on a non-stop ride of African adventures. Like a child, pulling anxiously at your hand, sprinting onward toward further exploration, Markham speeds us through dangers ranging from leopards to the risks of early flight in an unmapped land. It is a mind-boggling world of naturally flowing chaos, deep thought, admiral respect, and truly amazing people, entirly unimaginable to the modern American. Markham has seen it like no one before her and few after, and when she puts it to paper, the reader can see directly into her heart. A must read.

I was born in Cuba. I came to the United States in 1970. Women and gay men were not permitted into the priesthood. I was recently initiated as a babalawo. So my knowledge of IFA is limited. However, since I was very young, I was thought that IFA was exclusively for men. This believe was further reinforce when I went to Cuba to become a babalawo. I been studying as much as I can from books and other information I've been able to obtain on the Internet. One of the website I found was the 'IFA Association of N. America'(or something like that) in Seattle. The head babalawo there is Phillip John Neimark who has written a few books on IFA (some, quite good). On his website he noted that he brought in a gay men into the priesthood. I've heard of women in Africa (never in Cuba) that have become priestess in IFA. But, I've never heard of a gay men being accepted into the religion. Shame on you Mr. Neimark. You took this men's money and made him a babalawo that will never be accepted in any way shape or form in the Hispanic community that practises Santeria in the large US cities.Have done an injustice to this man.

aboru, aboye, abosise-o my name is fa'kolade ogunrinde awoyade. i went through igbodu in ode-remo-ijebu in 1998 in the egbe of late Baba Alashala Awoyade's compound. I feel that times has changed just like it has with most religions. women are given certain rites into societies where long ago were unheard of. then why are we allowing them to be initiated into Ifa' and they can't see odu? If i am correct, when we (Awo's) receive our odu aren't we told not to look into odu? We can only feed odu in a very dark place and if we disobey and look inside that calabash........our osun staff must fall to the earth huh (mean we havve commited suicide)? there are some women who even have some of the elements of odu in there Ifa's. this must be addressed with our elders in Yorubaland and then and only then will we take a stand. do they become apetebe's when they have cofa? some women have even become iyanifa's. head of all apetebe's. i really do see any senior women here in america qualified to have such titles nor have ifa'. i could be wrong now. even certain so-called Awo's calling themselves Awo's are questionable. odabo

Bascom has done an excellent job of presenting some of the sacred Ifa verses. Also, women looking to become initiated into Ifa should continue to search for the right baba mentor to take them under their wing. I am a babe in the woods as far as this religon is concerned however, I managed to find a very good baba mentor whose sister-in-law is an Ifa priestess. When I mentioned about women not being able to get initiated they laughed.

Fascinating study of African slave trade focusing on the Moslem African slaves. Servants of Allah offers excellent survey of the African cultural and geopolitical situation prior to and during the years of the slave trade. It is through this foundation that we understand the various ethnic and religious roots of the African slaves.

Wisely the book has not focused on the middle passages covered in many other works but instead focused on the lives of Moslem slaves, in particular, in US, Caribbean and Brazil. The tremendous research and analysis has produced a true groundbreaking work in beginning to understand this very sad chapter of history.

I learnt a great deal from this book, I had no idea of the extent of suffering Moslems and other slaves endured, I didn't know about the use of Arabic in US & rest of Americas as a way for enslaved Africans to communicate and even to keep plantation books. I had no idea of the suppression of Islam practiced as early as 1501 and the brutality of the Spanish Inquisition in the new World all they way through early 20th century. I was amazed to learn how in US the clearly well educated enslaved blacks were denied their Africaness by their masters and relabeled Arabs or Moors and in doing so the White Masters could continue to make sense of the inferior status of the black Africans.

At times Diouf may have been a touch too romantic about the behavior of Moslems and it times attributed culturally narrow definitions to Islamic traditions, this does not detract from the excellent contribution of this most enlightening work on a very rarely addressed subject.

The first review was just terrible and shows the bias and bigotted remarks about islam. The book is an excellent book that gives us a better picture of how Islam came to America from the African Muslims enslaved. I met the author at Cal Berkley when she did her presentation on this book. As for the comments about slavery in Islam. It is not the same thing as slavery done in America and in Europe. Titus Burckhartdt in his book Moorish Culture in Spain said "Slavery within Islamic culture is not be confused with Roman slavery or with the American variety of the nineteenth century; in Islam the slave was never a mere "thing." If his master treated him badly, he could appeal to a judge and procure his freedom. His dignity as a Muslim was inviolable. Originally, the status of slave was simply the outcome of having been taken a prisoner of war. A captive who could not buy his own freedom by means of ransom remained in the possession of the captor until he had earned his freedom by work or until he was granted liberty by his master." The first reviewer must also note that slavery in Quran is seen such a way. As for the Middle east countries he mentioned, countries dont represent Islam. Islam is judged by its sources not countries. Besides, Saudi Arabic is a monarchy, which isnt a form of Islamic governance. This book shows the truth about the African American connection to Islam. It did not start with the Nation of Islam or Malcolm X, it started way before that.

This book gives an overview of how Africans brought to the Americas as slaves were able to retain their faith and Islamic traditions so far away from their homelands and under oppressive, restrictive conditions. I found this book enlightening in many ways, and if you love or have an interest in history, it is a very good addition to one's library.

Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears by Verna Aardema, Pictures by Leo and Diane Dillion. New York: Scholastic, Inc., 1975.

Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears is an African folktale which offers a great lesson to be learned by children. The story is about a mosquito who tells a lie to an iguana and annoys the iguana. This sets off a series of events that affects everyone who lives in the forest and the initiation of daylight.

It is an excellent story for a young reader to learn the consquence of telling lies and the detrimental affect it can have on individuals and/or communities. After reading this story to a child parents should ascertain whether the child understood the lesson of this folktale and emphasize how important it is to always tell the truth.

The illustrations in this book are spectacular. Each page is filled with brigthly-colored pictures that will capture the interest of a young child and keep them reading until the very end. The illustrations also correspond directly to the storyline which will give the young reader the ability to glance at the pictures and help them read the printed words.

This is not only a good story for children, but for adults too. The end offers a humorous reason for why mosquitoes buzz in people's ears, and why people shoo them away. This is definitely a good book to keep in every home and school library.

Nancy Paretti

I'll be 30 this year and I remember my father reading this to me when I was a kid. I loved all the different voices he did for the series of animals in it. In fact, I loved it so much that it was one of 3 stories I had my father record himself reading so I could play it for my son whenever he wanted to hear it. If you're looking for a book you can have fun reading, this is a great choice!

The illustrations in this book simply couldn't be more beautiful. It's spectacular to look at, and my son thinks so too. He loves pointing out each of the animals over and over again, commenting on colors and the sun.

The retold African folktale is a great read, a good sequence of events, and a good illustration of logical consequence. My only argument (and this is with interpretation rather than the book itself) is that: a)nobody asks the mosquito what happened and b) what the mosquito tells the igauna in the beginning isn't a lie. It's silly and irrelevant, yes, but she's not lying. The farmer was undoubtably digging up yams bigger than the mosquito. Maybe it's just my sympathy for the underdog here, but I think the mosquito got a bad deal.

Boyle is an excellent story teller, and "Water Music" is a terrific read. The narrative flows along at quite a clip as the plot ricochets between characters. Boyle's sense of humor is strong, and I found myself laughing out loud on more than one occasion. While a jacket review compares the work of Boyle to Pynchon, I find little grounds for this. The intellectual attributes of the book fail to approach that of any Pynchon. But why make such a comparison?

Water music is a splendid story quite wonderfully told- an excellent beach book.

T.C. Boyle tells this story with attention and ease. The book draws the reader as deep into the novel as Mungo Park and Ned Rise, its protagonists, are drawn into the heart of Africa. The tale is flush with compelling characters, a riveting story line and a unique marriage of marvelous fiction and fascinating history.

Water Music is at once simple in its illucidation of two men's quests for explicit and vague goals, and complex in its rich weave and stitch of subplots, motivations and perverse parallelism. Neglecting the deference and influence of the writer, Boyle is a post-modern Twain or Swift, combining polemicism and ribauld wit with a gentle love of parable and unmistakable passion for language. The plot is as plausible and exciting as any set in West Africa and London circa 1800 and has a cadence and credibility that teaches as much as it hypnotizes the reader.

Water Music is a relentless human adventure over unexplored terrain and into the essential question of individual purpose, meaning and place. The book is a vessel, its course and its wake, all in one.

T.C. Boyle's novel is a gift as he continues his validation of modern fiction writing. We should all glimpse the talent evident in this skillful-spun yarn.

...

Revolving around the expeditions of Mungo Park, T. Coraghessan Boyle's novel Water Music is not easy to categorize; it is a travel account, picaresque and novel of manners rolled into one.

In 1795 the Scotsman Mungo Park (1771-1806) went to Africa to explore the Niger, a river no European had ever seen. Upon arriving in present-day Gambia, he went 200 miles up the Gambia River to the trading station at Pisania and then traveled east into unexplored territory. In 1796 he reached the Niger River at the town of Segu and traveled 80 miles downstream before his supplies were exhausted and he had to turn back. He returned to Africa in 1805, intending to explore the Niger from Segu to its mouth. His expedition was attacked at Bussa, and Park was drowned. Dedicating the book to the (fictive) Raconteurs' Club, master storyteller T.C. Boyle has concocted an ingenious narrative. At first he spins numerous strands, weaving them into an intricate exotic literary tapestry, as the tale progresses. In fact, the 104 chapters can be read as short stories in their own right. Their titles are sometimes alluding to literary masterpieces by such figures as Ivan Turgeniev, Joseph Conrad and Langston Hughes.

Boyle's story starts in the year 1795. Mungo Park is held hostage by Ali Ibn Fatoudi, the Emir of Ludamar, one of the inland Muslim principalities in what is now the Sahel. A protégé Joseph Banks, erstwhile companion of Captain Cook on his circumnavigation of the globe and now President of the Royal Society and Director of the African Association for Promoting Exploration, Park, a former surgeon on an East India merchantman, has been selected to lead the first expedition in search of the river Niger.

Mungo's guide and interpreter is the intriguing Johnson a.k.a. Katunga Oyo. The early biography of this Madingo is reminiscent of the adventures of a character from Maryse Conde. Kidnapped and sold into slavery Katunga Oyo is shipped to a plantation in England's new world colony of South Carolina. After a visit to his overseas possessions the landowner takes him to London. Here Johnson, as he is now called, learns to read and write, and develops a passion for literature, becoming a "true-blue African homme des lettres". After killing a man in a duel, Johnson ends up back in Africa. Here he "melted into the black bank of the jungle". Johnson's idiom is full of - often humorous - anachronisms. He is calling the local cuisine "soul food" and his old plantation songs "the blues". He is capable of self-mockery: "Don't look at me, brother. I'm an animist." Sometimes he sounds like a 18th century Muddy Waters. Oscillating between his African heritage and newly acquired European culture, he manages to graft the latter upon his African roots. Johnson becomes a shaman of sorts: At the behest of his former master, who happens to be a member of Sir Joseph's Association, Johnson agrees to join Mungo Park's 1795 expedition. His price: the complete works of William Shakespeare.

Ned Rise, a pauper from the London underworld, son of an alcoholic hag, 'not Twist, not Copperfield, not Fagin himself had a childhood to compare to Ned Rise's'. Through a twist of fate, this impresario of live sex shows avant la lettre, corpse digger and convicted murderer ends up at Fort Goree, just off the Coast of Senegal. Here, at this 'gateway to the Niger and bastion of rot' he is drafted into the Royal African Corps and selected to accompany Park on his fateful second expedition into the African interior. Because of his sublime survival instinct he is very able to tune in with his environment Consequently, Ned Rise appears to be better suited to establish a rapport with the natives than Africa-veteran Park.

Water Music is more than a travel account. Although it is clear that Boyle has researched his subject meticulously, he is not interested in a mere historically correct chronicle of events as has explained in his introduction.

But Boyle does address the issue of the objective of travel-writing seriously. In this respect, it is interesting to see how Mungo Park's own view on his mission evolves in the course of his first journey; the cool observer of the flora and fauna in Sumatra is giving way to the romantic. Held at the court of Ibn Fatoudi Park resolves to make his findings known to the world.ý

After an audience with Mansong, ruler of Bambarra, there is a amazing twist. Reading a page from Park's notebook, Johnson notices that the explorer's recording of the meeting is not only inaccurate, but embellishing it beyond recognition. Johnson reproaches Park for this.

It seems as if the tables have turned; the African - 'the object of study' - demanding accuracy, wanting it 'guts and all'. But who is speaking here, and what is his motivation? Is it the intellectual Johnson defending the great cause of science? Or is it the up-rooted Mandingo Katunga Oyo, who wants Africa depicted in all its bizarre horror, motivated by self-hate? Why, on the other hand, does the scholar-explorer Mungo Park want to embellish and cover up? Does he intend to create an image of the 'noble savage'? (After all, this is the age of Jean-Jeacques Rousseau). It leaves the reader with questions: how are travel accounts to be read and interpreted? Can a travel-writer's intentions be discerned? And can his account be trusted?

The author addresses here an important issue because it goes to the core of travel-writing. Is it possible at all to represent the reality of other cultures? It also raises questions concerning the intertwining of fact and fiction; the imaging of cultures. Water Music is multi-layered; although not an explicit critique of imperialism and although the author does not allow himself to be restrained by ideological shackles, there are implied, ironic observations.

Neither does Boyle ignore the culture clash that is occurring within Africa itself between the Muslims, often North-Africans of Arab descent, and the indigenous population of western and equatorial Africa, which is largely animist. The latter are but despicable infidels to the 'Moors', who, usually having the political upper hand, prosecute them relentlessly, retaining or selling them as slaves. It is, incidentally, this conflict which forms a central theme in Condé's earlier mentioned novel Segou. It would be interesting to discover whether Condé has read, and was influenced by, Water Music.

But Boyle's main preoccupation is with Mungo Park, the man. In an interview he has explained that, when ýýdoing research for his thesis on 19th century English literature, he came upon Mungo Park in a book by Pre-Rafaelite poet John Ruskin (1819-1900). Further investigation learned that Ruskin's terrific hero appeared to be rather common. What fascinated Boyle was how this seemingly ordinary man came to chase a dream. To abandoned his family and embark on a crazy adventure only to die miserably in the jungle. During the second expedition, He lets Ned Rise also muse upon Mungo Park's insane, relentless push into the interior.

Like all good travel-writing Water Music is about two journeys: into the interior of Africa and into the interior of the self, the true heart of darkness.