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Amazon.com Review Where the Wild Things Are is one of those truly rare books that can be enjoyed equally by a child and a grown-up. If you disagree, then it's been too long since you've attended a wild rumpus. Max dons his wolf suit in pursuit of some mischief and gets sent to bed without supper. Fortuitously, a forest grows in his room, allowing his wild rampage to continue unimpaired. Sendak's color illustrations (perhaps his finest) are beautiful, and each turn of the page brings the discovery of a new wonder. The wild things--with their mismatched parts and giant eyes--manage somehow to be scary-looking without ever really being scary; at times they're downright hilarious. Sendak's defiantly run-on sentences--one of his trademarks--lend the perfect touch of stream of consciousness to the tale, which floats between the land of dreams and a child's imagination. This Sendak classic is more fun than you've ever had in a wolf suit, and it manages to reaffirm the notion that there's no place like home. --This text refers to the edition. Review "Each word has been carefully chosen and the simplicity of the language is quite deceptive." -- SLJ. "The clearer reproductions of the original art are vibrant and luminous [in this edition]." -- H.

From School Library Journal Starred Review. Grade 4–9—Riordan takes the elements that made the "Percy Jackson" books (Hyperion) so popular and ratchets them up a notch. Carter, 14, and Sadie, 12, have grown up apart. He has traveled all over the world with his Egyptologist father, Dr. Julius Kane, while Sadie has lived in London with her grandparents. Their mother passed away under mysterious circumstances, so when their father arrives in London and wants to take them both on a private tour of the British Museum, all is not necessarily what it seems. The evening ends with the apparent destruction of the Rosetta Stone, the disappearance of Dr. Kane, and the kidnapping of Carter and Sadie. More insidiously, it leads to the release of five Egyptian gods, including Set, who is their mortal enemy. Carter and Sadie discover the secrets of their family heritage and their ability to work magic as they realize that their task will be to save humanity from Set, who is building a destructive red pyramid inside Camelback Mountain in Phoenix. The text is presented as the transcript of an audio recording done by both children. Riordan creates two distinct and realistic voices for the siblings. He has a winning formula, but this book goes beyond the formulaic to present a truly original take on Egyptian mythology. His trademark humor is here in abundance, and there are numerous passages that will cause readers to double over with laughter. The humor never takes away from the story or from the overall tone. A must-have book, and in multiple copies.—Tim Wadham, St. Louis County Library, MO Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From *Starred Review* Since their mother's death, six years ago, 12-year-old Sadie Kane has lived in London with her maternal grandparents while her older brother, 14-year-old Carter, has traveled the world with their father, a renowned African American Egyptologist. In London on Christmas Eve for a rare evening together, Carter and Sadie accompany their dad to the British Museum, where he blows up the Rosetta Stone in summoning an Egyptian god. Unleashed, the vengeful god overpowers and entombs him, but Sadie and Carter escape. Initially determined to rescue their father, their mission expands to include understanding their hidden magical powers as the descendants of the pharaohs and taking on the ancient forces bent on destroying mankind. The first-person narrative shifts between Carter and Sadie, giving the novel an intriguing dual perspective made more complex by their biracial heritage and the tension between the siblings, who barely know each other at the story's beginning. The first volume in the Kane Chronicles, this fantasy adventure delivers what fans loved about the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series: young protagonists with previously unsuspected magical powers, a riveting story marked by headlong adventure, a complex background rooted in ancient mythology, and wry, witty twenty-first-century narration. The last pages contain a clever twist that will leave readers secretly longing to open their lockers at the start of school. Grades 5-8. --Carolyn Phelan

Amazon.com Review explores the hopes and longings of an introspective middle child from a boisterous Italian clan in this humorous, character-driven novel. Leo's family calls him "Sardine" because the quiet twelve year old often finds himself sandwiched between his more outgoing siblings. One rainy day in the attic, he discovers his father's teenage journal. In it, he reads that his careworn parent used to dream of being a dancer, a writer, a famous athlete, just like Leo! He also discovers a photo of his father's family that includes an unfamiliar girl in the background. Could it be the mysterious Aunt Rosaria no one speaks of? As he tries to untangle this family mystery, he is also preparing for his school play--a tale of an old man whose life is revived by weaving his childhood memories into stories for his neighbors. How can Leo convince his father that, like the old man in the play, he needs to talk about Rosaria to heal the hole she left in his life? Through the parallel dramas of the play and his chaotic home life, Leo begins to understand the importance of stories and our need to share them, whether they are treasured memories or future dreams. Creech includes the full text of the play, Rumpopo's Porch, in the back of the book. Middle grade fans of by Linda Sue Park or by K.L. Going are sure to enjoy this heartfelt, thoughtful read. --Jennifer Hubert --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From School Library Journal Grade 6-8–Meet Leonardo. His family calls him sardine, as he often feels smashed between Contento, his moody older sister, and his two younger brothers, Pietro and Nunzio. His life is filled with possibilities; he's a dreamer (which gains him the additional nickname of fog boy). But two events converge in unexpected ways, leading to new understanding, growth, and insight. Leo finds a journal written by his father at age 13 and is chosen for a part in a play written by the drama teacher entitled Rumpopo's Porch. To his dismay, he is given the role of the Old Crone and the journal presents a person whom Leo doesn't know. Gradually, however, the Old Crone comes to appreciate Rumpopo just as Leo begins to see glimmers of the 13-year-old boy who matured into his now-frazzled father. Life, like plays and replays, has a cyclical nature. A rift in Leo's large, noisy, and completely realistic family begins to heal after a near disaster when Nunzio is injured, just as a hole created by loss can heal. Leo's fantasies intertwine with actual events, adding humor and insight. Characters are brilliantly delineated by their actions, reports of Leo's observations, and short dialogues presented in both conversations and in screenplay form. As Leo matures, nuggets of wisdom emerge from the simple text in this beautifully crafted novel. The script of Rumpopo's Porch is included to further clarify parallels. For in the end, all the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players.–Maria B. Salvadore, formerly at Washington DC Public Library Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

From This volume is part of the Mythology A to Z series from Facts On File. Each volume in the series has a similar format: an introduction includes a history of the culture(s), an explanation of the book, and a pronunciation guide, followed by a time line and a map. The main text is an alphabetical listing of names, places, and ideas important to the mythology of the culture. The definitions are mostly brief--a single paragraph--although some are as lengthy as a page. Many black-and-white illustrations, mostly of artifacts, enhance the text. Each volume includes a good bibliography with Internet addresses. The series is designed for young people in junior high and high school, and it is appropriate for younger children who are better readers or interested in mythology. There is not much storytelling since the volumes are intended to be encyclopedias rather than collections of stories. They will help students to make connections between mythological characters and images and compare similarities between cultures. The indexes are constructed to help make those connections, too. Although the pronunciation guides in the introductions are excellent, a young audience also needs pronunciations at appropriate entry headings. It is difficult to remember strange pronunciations or to flip to the front of the book to figure out how to say foreign names. Multiculturalism and world history are an integral part of most school curricula, and the Mythology A to Z series fits both of these themes. This title is an excellent introduction to the mythologies of African cultures and should be in most public and school libraries. Robin HoelleCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

About the Author Michael Jan Friedman is the author of more than forty science fiction and fantasy books, among them many Star Trek and Star Trek: Next Generation novels. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One Commander Bryce Shumar couldn't believe his turbolift had gotten stuck again. For a moment, he just stood there, trying to remain calm -- hopeful that it was just a temporary malfunction. Then his patience was rewarded as the narrow, dimly lit compartment jerked and labored and resumed its uncertain ascent. The damned thing hadn't been running as smoothly as he would have liked for several months already. The cranky, all-too-familiar whine of the component that drove the compartment only underlined what the commander already knew -- that the system was on its last legs. Under normal circumstances, new turbolift parts would have appeared at the base in a matter of weeks -- maybe less. But lift parts weren't exactly a tactical priority, so Shumar and his people were forced to make do with what they had. After a few moments, the component cycled down and the commander's ascent was complete. Then the doors parted with a loud hiss and revealed a noisy, bustling operations center -- Ops for short. It was packed with one sleek, black console after another -- all of them manned, and all of them enclosed in a transparent dome that featured a breathtaking view of the stars. The first day Shumar had set foot there, the place had impressed the hell out of him -- almost enough to make him forget the value of what he had lost. But that was four long years ago. Now, he had learned to take it all for granted. The big, convex viewer located in the center of the facility echoed the curve of the sprawling security console below it. Fixing his gaze on the screen, Shumar saw two ships making their way through the void on proximate parallel courses. One was a splendid, splay-winged Rigelian transport vessel, its full-bellied hull the deep blue color of a mountain lake. The other was a black, needle-sharp Cochrane, capable of speeds as high as warp one point six, according to some reports. It was hardly an unusual pairing, given the Cochrane's tactical advantages and the dangerous times in which they lived. Vessels carrying important cargo were almost always given escorts. Still, thought Shumar, it wouldn't hurt to make sure the ships were what they appeared to be. "Run a scan," he told his redhaired security officer. Morgan Kelly shot a glance at him over her shoulder. "Might I remind the commander," she said, "that no Romulan has used subterfuge to approach an Earth base since the war began? Not even once?" "Consider me reminded," Shumar told her, "and run the scan anyway." "Way ahead of you," said Kelly, only half-suppressing a smile. She pointed to a monitor on her left, where the vessels' energy signatures were displayed. "According to our equipment, everything checks out. Those two are exactly what they're cracked up to be -- a transport and its keeper." Shumar frowned. "Tell them I'll meet them downstairs." "Aye, sir," said the security officer. "And I'll be sure to tell them also what a lovely mood you're in." The commander looked at her. "What kind of mood would you be in if you'd just learned your vessel had been destroyed?" Kelly grunted. "Begging the commander's pardon, but it was nearly a month ago that you got that news." Shumar's frown deepened. Had it really been that long since he learned what happened to the John Burke? "Time flies," he remarked drily, "when you're having fun." Then he made his way back to the turbolift. Though not a human himself, Alonis Cobaryn had seen his share of Earth bases floating in the void. The one he saw on his primary monitor now was typical of the breed. It possessed a dark, boxlike body, four ribbed cargo globes that vaguely resembled the legs of a very slow quadruped on his homeworld, and a transparent bubble that served as the facility's brain. There was also nothing unusual about the procedure he had been instructed to follow in his approach. And now that he was within a few kilometers of the base, Cobaryn was expected to begin that procedure. But first, he pulled a toggle to switch one of his secondary monitors to a communications function. After all, he always liked to see in whose hands he was placing his molecular integrity. The monitor screen fizzed over with static for a moment, then showed him the Earth base's security officer -- a woman with high cheekbones, green eyes, and red hair pulled back into a somewhat unruly knot. What's more, she filled out her gold and black jumpsuit rather well. All in all, Cobaryn mused, a rather attractive-looking individual. For a human, that is. It took her about a second to take note of the visual link and look back at him. "If you were planning on cutting your engines," the woman told him, "this would be as good a time as any." Cobaryn's mouth pulled up at the corners -- as close as he could come to a human smile. "I could not agree more," he said. Tapping the requisite sequence into the touch pad of his helm-control console, he looked up again. "I have cut my engines." "Acknowledged," said the security officer, checking her monitors with admirable efficiency to make sure all was as it should be. Next, Cobaryn applied his braking thrusters until he had reduced his vessel's momentum to zero and assumed a position within half a kilometer of the base. The facility loomed larger than ever on his primary monitor, a dark blot on the stars. "That'll be fine," the redhaired woman told him. "I am pleased that you think so," he responded. The officer's green eyes narrowed a bit, but she wasn't adverse to the banter. At least, that was how it seemed to Cobaryn. "I suppose you'd like to beam over now," she said. "If it is not too much trouble." "And if it is?" the woman asked playfully. Cobaryn shrugged. "Then I would be deprived of the opportunity to thank you for your assistance in person." She chuckled. "You Rigelians don't lack confidence, do you?" "I cannot speak for others," he remarked thoughtfully, "but as for myself...I do indeed believe that confidence is a virtue." The officer considered him a moment longer. "Too bad your pal in the Cochrane doesn't have the same attitude." Cobaryn tilted his head. "And why is that?" he inquired, at a loss as to the human's meaning. A coy smile blossomed on the officer's face. "No offense, Captain, but the Cochrane jockey's a lot better-looking." Then she went on, almost in the same breath, "Get ready to beam over." Cobaryn sat back in his chair, deflated by the woman's remark -- if only for a moment. Then he recalled that humans often said the opposite of what they meant. Perhaps that was the case here. "Ready," he replied. "Good," said the security officer, embracing a lever in each hand. "Then here goes." Commander Shumar stood in one of his base's smallest, darkest rooms and watched a faint shimmer of light appear like a will-o'-the-wisp over a raised transporter disc. Gradually, the shimmer grew along its vertical axis. Then a ghostly image appeared in the same space -- a vague impression of a muscular, silver-skinned humanoid dressed in loose-fitting black togs. The transport captain, Shumar remarked inwardly. Obviously, he had been nicer to Kelly than the pilot of the Cochrane, or the security officer would have beamed the other man over first. The base commander watched the shaft of illumination dim as the figure flickered, solidified, flickered again and solidified a bit more. Finally, after about forty-five seconds, the process was complete and the vertical blaze of light died altogether. A moment later, a host of blue emergency globes activated themselves in a continuous line along the bulkheads. By their glare, Shumar could make out his guest's silvery features and ruby-red eyes, which gleamed beneath a flared brow ridge reminiscent of a triceratops' bony collar. He was a Rigelian, the commander noted. More specifically, a denizen of Rigel IV, not to be confused with any of the other four inhabited planets in the Rigel star system. And he was smiling awkwardly. Of course, smiling was a peculiarly Terran activity. It wasn't uncommon for aliens to look a little clumsy at it -- which is why so few of them even made the attempt. "Welcome to Earth Base Fourteen," said the human. "Thank you," the Rigelian replied with what seemed like studied politeness. He stepped down from the disc and extended a three-fingered hand. "Alonis Cobaryn at your service, Commander." Shumar gripped the transport captain's offering. It felt much like a human appendage except for some variations in metacarpal structure and a complete lack of hair. "You shake hands," the base commander observed. "I do," Cobaryn confirmed. Shumar studied him. "Most nonhumans don't, you know." The Rigelian's ungainly smile widened, stretching an elaborate maze of tiny ridges that ran from his temples down to his jaw. "I have dealt with your people for a number of years now," he explained. "Sometimes I imagine I know as much about them as any human." Shumar grunted. "I wish I could say the same about Rigelians. You're the first one I've seen in person in four years on this base." "I am not surprised," said Cobaryn, his tone vaguely apologetic. "My people typically prefer the company of other Rigelians. In that I relish the opportunity to explore the intricacies of other cultures, I am considered something of a black sheep on my homeworld." Suddenly, realization dawned. "Wait a minute," said the human. "Cobaryn...? Aren't you the fellow who charted Sector Two-seven-five?" The alien lowered his hairless silver head ever so slightly. "I see that my reputation has preceded me." Shumar found himself smiling. "I used your charts to navigate the Galendus Cluster on my way to -- " Before he could finish his sentence, the emergency illumination around them dimmed and another glimmer of light appeared over the transporter disc. Like the one before it, it lengthened little by little and gave rise to something clearly man-shaped. This one was human, the base commander noted -- the pilot of the Cochrane, no doubt. Shumar watched the shape flicker and take on substance by turns. In time, the new arrival became solid, the shaft of light fizzled out, and the emergency globes activated themselves again. This time, they played on a tall, athletic-looking specimen with a lean face, close-cropped blond hair, and slate-blue eyes. His garb was civilian, like that of most escort pilots these days -- a brown leather jacket over a rumpled, gray jumpsuit. "Welcome to the base," said the commander. "My name's Shumar." The other man looked at him for a second, but he didn't say a thing in return. Then he got down from the platform, walked past his fellow human, and left the transporter room by its only set of sliding doors. As the titanium panels slid closed again, shutting out the marginally brighter light of the corridor outside, Shumar turned to Cobaryn. "What's the matter with your friend?" he asked, as puzzled as he was annoyed. The Rigelian smiled without much enthusiasm. "Captain Dane is not very communicative. The one time we spoke, he described himself as a loner." He regarded the doors with his ruby-red orbs. "Frankly, given his attitude, I am surprised he takes part in the war effort at all." "The one time?" Shumar echoed. He didn't get it. "But he was your escort, wasn't he?" "He was," Cobaryn confirmed in a neutral tone. "Still, as I noted, he was not a very loquacious one. He appeared to be troubled by something, though I cannot imagine what it might have been." Shumar frowned. "It wouldn't hurt him to say a few words when he sets foot on someone else's base. I mean, I'm not exactly thrilled about my lot in life either right now, but I keep it to myself." The Rigelian's eyes narrowed. "You would rather be somewhere else?" "On a research vessel," Shumar told him unhesitatingly, "conducting planetary surveys. That's what I did before the war. Unfortunately, I'll have to get hold of a new ship if I want to pick up where I left off." "The old one was commandeered, then?" asked Cobaryn. Shumar nodded. "Four years ago, when I was given command of this place. Then, a little more than a month ago, it was blown to bits by the Romulans out near Gamma Llongo." The Rigelian sighed. "You and I have much in common, then." The commander looked at him askance. "Don't tell me they pressed you into service. You're not even human." "Perhaps not," said Cobaryn. "But it is difficult to pursue a career as an explorer and stellar cartographer when the entire quadrant has become a war zone." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Besides, it is foolish to pretend the Romulans are a threat to Earth alone." "A number of species have done just that," Shumar noted, airing one of his pet peeves. The Rigelian nodded wistfully. "Including my own, I hesitate to admit. However, I cannot change my people's minds. All I can do is lend my own humble efforts to the cause and hope for the best." The commander found the sentiment hard to argue with. "Come on," he said. "I'll arrange for some dinner. I'll bet you're dying for some fresh muttle pods after all those rations." Cobaryn chuckled softly. "Indeed I am. And then, after dinner..." Shumar glanced at him. "Yes?" The Rigelian shrugged. "Perhaps you could introduce me to your security officer? The one with the splendid red hair?" The request took the commander by surprise. "You mean Kelly?" "Kelly," Cobaryn repeated, rolling the name a little awkwardly over his tongue. "A pleasing name. I would be most grateful." The commander considered it. As far as he knew, his security officer wasn't attracted to nonhumans. But then, the Rigelian had asked for an introduction, not a weekend in Tahoe. "If you like," Shumar suggested, "I can ask the lieutenant if she'd like to dine with us." "Even better," said Cobaryn. The Rigelian looked like a kid in a candy shop, thought the commander. He wasn't the least bit self-conscious about expressing his yen for Kelly -- even to a man he had only just met. Shumar found it hard not to like someone like that. Copyright © 2001 by Paramount Pictures

From Johnson continues the Son of Destiny series that began with The Sword (2007). Alys, her uncle's prisoner, uses her shape-shifting talents to escape and reach Nightfall Isle, where she finds Wolfer, her closest childhood friend. In the castle she meets Kelly, the self-proclaimed Queen of Nightfall who is married to Wolfer's twin. Kelly triggered the curse around which Johnson's complex fantasy-romance series is constructed. Although the plot may be slow moving, those who love detailed lovemaking scenes will revel in the 20 pages devoted to Alys and Wolfer's first intimate encounter. Diana Tixier HeraldCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved About the Author The best part about being a writer is the joy of entertaining others. Whether it’s sad or scary, silly or sexy, I love knowing that one of my stories has given someone a good time. I hope this is one of those stories for you, too. Currently I live in the Pacific Northwest. Feel free to drop by my website for a chat.

Review In the wake of the Harry Potter phenomenon, Black Maria, an old favourite from well-loved children's writer Wynne Jones, has been dressed up in Hess's appealing illustrations and marched back out onto our bookshelves. When Mig, a young writer, goes to Cranberry-on-Sea with her mother and brother Chris to look after aged Aunt Maria, she soon has a few questions. Why do the townswomen gather around Aunt Maria under her sugar-coated command while the zombie-like men skulk around in silence? Why are the only children in town shut up in a forbidding orphanage? If the family car really crashed into the sea, killing Mig's errant father, how could she have seen it parked in Cranberry? Mig and Chris set out to solve the mystery with the help of the ghost in Chris's bedroom, and they are soon up to their necks in magic and mayhem. The book is lots of fun, but is also unafraid to explore the darker side of human nature. In Aunt Maria's stifling politeness we see how people control others through passive aggression. Through the women's domination of their men, we learn that power must be balanced. With Mig we find out that repressed feelings suffocate personal freedom. And with ghosts, curses, people transformed into animals, time travel and dark secrets from the past, Black Maria will delight Pottermaniacs everywhere. (Kirkus UK) About the Author Diana Wynne Jones spent her childhood in Essex and has been writing fantasy novels for children since 1973. With her unique combination of magic, humour and imagination, she has been enthralling children and adults with her work ever since. She won the Guardian Award in 1977 with Charmed Life, was runner-up for the Children's Book Award in 1981, and was twice runner-up for the Carnegie Medal. She is married with three sons, and lives in Bristol with her husband. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

From Publishers Weekly A young evacuee from the London blitz is captured and taken to Time City, a place that exists in space and time outside history. "A powerfully moving story about children who are, quite literally, racing through time to save their world," said PW. Ages 10-up. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From School Library Journal Grade 6 Up High-spirited time travel fantasy that is sure to delight its readers. When 11-year-old Vivian Smith is evacuated from London in 1939, she expects to end up in the peaceful British countryside. Instead she is kidnapped by two youthful time travellers who mistake her for the ``Time Lady'' and whisk her off to Time City, a richly imagined alternative world which exists in time but not in history. Time City observers, Viv learns, have reason to believe that the Time Lady, the wife of the founder of Time Citya mysterious Merlin figureis at large in history and is busily altering it, thereby endangering not only the historical world but Time City itself. If Vivian is to return to her own world and time, it will be necessary for her to help her kidnappers foil the Time Lady first. That almost nothingwhether person or incidentis precisely what it appears to be at first encounter both complicates Vivian's task and delights readers. This ability to surprise has become a Diana Wynne Jones signature, as have her unflagging inventiveness and almost uncanny ability to create imaginary worlds of resounding reality, a capacity based in part on her attention to detail and in part on her capacity to create believable and sympathetic characters. All of these gifts are in abundant evidence in A Tale of Time City which is, accordingly, absolutely first-rate entertainment. And to her fans, this will be one of the few things about her new book which will come as no surprise! Michael Cart, Beverly Hills Public Lib .Copyright 1987 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Amazon.com Review David Weber provides intergalactic thrills and political intrigue in this far-flung military space adventure, continuing where left off. The People's Republic has publicly executed Honor Harrington--or have they? While the Star Kingdom swears revenge, Honor (alive and kicking) plans escape from the prison planet of Hell. Weber's extensive knowledge of military protocol combined with deep technical exploration make for a highly detailed book, yet he avoids bogging down in it. His great storytelling skills keep this book racing along like an action-adventure movie. Fans of Star Wars and old-fashioned seafaring tales will find lots to their liking here, as will those looking for a future setting in which women play an equal role. If you're new to the Honor series, start with , the first of Commander Honor Harrington's adventures. --This text refers to the edition. From Publishers Weekly Extrapolating Horatio Hornblower into a rousing far-future galactic conflict, sex-changing him into Admiral Lady Dame Honor Harrington and setting in motion a myriad of teeth-baring space-naval commanders make Weber's military SF (In Enemy Hands, etc.) irresistible. This hefty eighth installment of the Harrington saga opens with Honor's supposed execution?but wait! She and her empathic treecat, Nimitz, though wounded, are really on Hades, a prison planet of the nefarious People's Republic (Peeps), where they are hatching a plot to spring its POWs, smash the Peep fleet invading the space of Honor's Manticoran Alliance and bring everybody safely home. Meanwhile, unscrupulous Peep politicians hamstring their own commanders with bumptious informers, while the Manties' Admiralty officials cope with lukewarm allies and the bloodthirsty polygamous Calvinist Graysons of Honor's other homeworld, a Puritanical society hell-bent on dispensing with Lady Harrington "and no mercy!" Weber's enormous canvas allows for masterful combat sequences, technological expertise and appealing character painting. Most of the military types (among whom women abound) on both sides are tough, decent and efficient, while most politicians (including those in uniform) are self-serving numskulls?portraits that most readers will applaud, along with the rest of Weber's rousing novel. Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to the edition.

From School Library Journal YA Leon Trout, the ghost of a decapitated shipbuilder, narrates the humorous, ironic and sometimes carping decline of the human race, as seen through the eyes and minds of the survivors of a doomed cruise to the Galapagos Islands. Vonnegut's cast of unlikely Adams and Eves setting out in a Noah's ark includes Mary Hepburn, an American biology teacher and recent widow; Zenji Hiroguchi, a Japanese computer genius (who does not make it to the ship, although his language-translating and quotation-spouting computer does); his wife, Hisako, carrying radiated genes from the atomic bombs; James Wait, who has made a fortune marrying elderly women; and Captain Aolph von Kleist. Also included: six orphaned girls of the Kana-bono cannibal tribe, who will become the founding mothers of the fisherfolk after bacteria render all other women infertile. Serious fans of Vonnegut's wry and ribald prose will welcome this tale of the devolution of superbrained humans into gentle swimmers with small brains, but others may find this Darwinian survival tale too packed with ecological and sociological details that trap the story line in a series of literary devices, albeit very clever ones. Mary T. Gerrity, Queen Anne School, Upper Marlboro, Md.Copyright 1986 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Library Journal For many Vonnegut fans, Galapagos will be a disappointment. The story is set ``one million years ago, back in 1986 A.D.'' and concerns the maiden voyage of the Bahia de Darwin to the Galapa gos Islands. The narrator is a ghost, and the main characters are those involved with the cruise. As the narrative devel ops, we learn that people have evolved from having ``big brains'' that always get them in trouble, to creatures with flippersbut they keep getting eaten by sharks. The narration jumps back and forth between past and future, so that there is no real sense of what life is like in the ``present'' of the story, and it is difficult to grasp what these new hu mans are really like. Vonnegut's usual stylistic devices just don't work here. Buy for demand. Susan Avallone, ``Library Journal''Copyright 1985 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.