Review of the album Here, My Dear by Marvin Gaye

"I guess I'll have to say

‘This album is dedicated to you’

Although perhaps I may not be happy

This is what you want

So I've conceded

I hope it makes you happy

There's a lot of truth in it, baby"*

     After the dissolution of his marriage in 1975, soul musician Marvin Gaye made the most rawly personal album of his career with Here, My Dear. The other notable albums he released during that period soar from blistering social consciousness on Trouble Man to sultry, smooth love/sex anthems on Lets Get It On and I Want You. The concept behind Here, My Dear is profoundly different — that being a confession in painful, unambiguous detail of the naked self-pity and hurt stemming from the recent flinty and ruinous separation.

     A stipulation of the final divorce settlement was that Gaye pay a portion of the proceeds and advance for his next record to his ex-wife, Anna Gordy Gaye, sibling of Motown founder Berry Gordy. For a while, Gaye played with the idea of making a trash album out of spite. The last years of the couple’s marriage were rocked by drug abuse, fighting and a number of extramarital affairs. Needless to say, Gaye was not feeling nice when he penned the lyrics. But instead of a crap record, the musician laid bare the exquisite rises and tumultuous valleys of the decade-long relationship. And this was for all to hear. 

     He did not restrain the bile. Anna was scandalized by the airing of their personal strife and was tempted to file a $5 million dollar invasion-of-privacy lawsuit upon the album’s release. But she ultimately refrained.

     Perhaps it is because of the truthful nature of the stories told within. The musician struggles mightily throughout the length of the record, chronicling his long, passionate love and trouble filled relationship with Anna. He lays it all bare — not pretending that there weren’t good times and feelings, but also vehemently extrapolating on the ruin and shards of that once exquisite love they had held for each other. 
     There is a lot of self-commiseration within and between the lines, and this album can certainly be a difficult undertaking. But it also, through Gaye’s gorgeous croon and the ebb and flow of the rhythms swelling behind him, transcends a simple understanding — as all ardent relationships do. When listening to these songs, there is never any doubt that Gaye loved Anna. The woman who had sparked emotions that so fiercely penetrated his macho shell — mutating him into someone gazing out at the world after love has gone and stripping him down to his most base form. It is a revelatory experience that causes nerve endings to tingle with aching recognition. 

"One thing I can promise, friend

I'll never be back again

But I'm not really bitter babe"**

*Lyrics from the song “Here, My Dear” written by Marvin Gaye.

**Lyrics from the song "When Did You Stop Loving Me, When Did I Stop Loving You" written by Marvin Gaye.

Thoughts inspired by Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five (and a sorta review)

      In a passage detailing his undergraduate anthropological studies after World War II, Kurt Vonnegut wrote:
    
   "Another thing they taught me was that nobody was ridiculous or bad or disgusting. Shortly before my father died, he said to me, 'You know — you never wrote a story with a villain in it."
     I told him that was one of the things I learned in college after the war."

     I must admit that this has been one of the central themes of my own higher education at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. And there are moments when I desperately desire that this notion be true. Certainly survivors and victims, even perpetrators and bystanders, all are — at some point on each of their lives' trajectories — scot-free of blame. Every one of them has been innocent of being ridiculous, bad, or disgusting. How could I even begin to believe such a thing?
     Let me explain. This is a sentiment only encouraged by how I interpret Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five. His protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, while in the evening years of his life, becomes unstuck in time. He swings from one moment of his existence to another, years and decades into the past or future. He could flash backwards to his childhood — staring at the painful-looking crucifixion on the wall above his bed. Or he could land unexpectedly in the time beyond death — where there is nothing but purple haze and a low humming sound. Or he could be catapulted into the basement of the slaughterhouse in which he was held prisoner beneath Dresden, Germany during the very end days of the War — and above which fall thousands upon thousands of bombs, leveling the beautiful city to ashes and shards. Or he could skip back to his abduction by the Tralfamadorians, an infinitely superior alien race of tiny green beings shaped like plumber's friends, who have much to teach Billy about time. Such wonderful things they instruct him to share with the rest of the human race. Vonnegut wrote that these Tralfamadorians are able to see in four dimensions, an extra over that of our measly three. This is how, Vonnegut explained, they view time:

     "All moments, past, present, and future, always have existed, always will exist. The Tralfamadorians can look at all the different moments just the way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains, for instance. They can see how permanent all these moments are, and they can look at any moment that interests them. It is just an illusion we have here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone it is gone forever."

     So this is how I imagine that Vonnegut sincerely attempted to view the world's inhabitants. All those survivors and victims, even perpetrators and bystanders, were once and, perhaps, still are innocent beings. Every one of these individuals — little babies before the sins and errors they will surely commit and have committed against them. There is a passage in the novel in which Billy Pilgrim has a transcendent vision; it’s of the world’s history in reverse, like a film projector running backwards — of those horrible deeds done by so many to so many undone, of bombs that had been dropped returning upwards to the bomber planes they came from, and those planes returning to their hangers, and of the mechanisms and chemistry of those bombs being dismantled, and everything returned to factories and labs, and then to their natural forms. It’s a wonderful thing to imagine. 

     “And Hitler turned into a baby, Billy Pilgrim supposed…Everybody turned into a baby, and all humanity, without exception, conspired biologically to produce two perfect people named Adam and Eve, he supposed.”

     Not that I believe in Adam and Eve as told by the Bible’s book of Genesis. But look at how I capitalize certain words despite my disbelief! It is strange how there are particular things that we cannot unlearn no matter how much we wish we could. They hold onto us, and we discover that we cannot lessen our own grip on them — though we thought we had done so long before.
     Each of us is a product of many different systems working on and against many others. It’s all about context — the biology and genealogy, the familial and community influences, the point of history in question, the economic and political structures at play, the quality of life on Earth, etc... We are constantly in flux — being worked on by and trying to balance ourselves against the world’s innumerable forces.
     I’m sure there's faulty logic in here somewhere. I certainly can’t claim to know what Vonnegut believed. But I personally hold that once a piece of art/literature is released into the world, the artist/author no long has any jurisdiction to direct the audiences’ impressions of that work. Thus, the readers of Vonnegut’s masterpieces may interpret them however they would like. It is my intent to do so thoughtfully, especially since I am on a quest to dissect why certain books speak to me so much. And Slaughterhouse-Five is one of those novels that simply will not stop speaking to me — no matter how many times I pick it up to flip through, and ultimately, reread in its entirety again and again.
     So, some may ask, where is the villain? And if there exist no true villains, what becomes of personal responsibility — of holding individuals accountable for their heinous acts against others? Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five is notably lacking in individual villains. Sure, there are plenty of people behaving poorly, but whose fault is all of the nonsense and horror? Who does Vonnegut blame for the leveling of Dresden by Allied bombs in the last days of what is commonly considered to be the absolute worst series of events in the history of the world?

Why do such cruel and abhorrent things occur so often? 

Why do terrible things happen to anyone at all?

     “‘That is a very Earthling thing to ask, Mr. Pilgrim.’”  A Tralfamadorian tells Billy when he is first abducted. “‘Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?…Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.’”

     I can’t say that I agree that there is no why, as Vonnegut spoke through his little green characters. And perhaps he did not believe it completely either. Because it seems that he kept asking this question in nearly every book he penned after Slaughterhouse-Five, until his death in April of 2007.  There exists no definitive answer, but my curiosity continues, waxing and waning in intensity. Just as his certainly did. We are caught like insects in the three dimensions we are able to sense; we do not share the fictional Tralfamadorians’ capacity to gaze upon that fourth dimension — that view of time as much more flexible than we can ever begin to comprehend.
    Thus, it appears to be the nature of our existence to keep asking these unanswerable questions. And I promise I will keep asking. So it goes.

Review of the film Spirited Away

   Hayao Miyazaki and his Studio Ghibli have made some of the most stunningly multifarious and creative animated films in the history of cinema. Princess Mononoke, My Neighbor Totoro, and Ponyo instantly come to mind. While most obviously geared towards the younger set, each of Miyazaki's films possess intricately plotted story lines and whimsically gorgeous visuals that appeal to those older as well. There are many who would also point out that this particular filmography boasts a fictional cast of personalities with seemingly unprecedented realism, complexity and nuance of character.
   Take my favorite of the bunch, the amazing Spirited Away. In this film, a young gangly girl named Chihiro finds herself swept into an alternate reality filled with magical specters, plotting witches, flying dragons and loud-talking toads - among many other fantastical creatures. Since her parents have suddenly been turned into slop hogs, Chihiro is thrust into this new world with only her own wit, courage, and generous and loyal spirit to guide her. 
   It seems Miyazaki's heroine is in over her head, but in this story, Chihiro's ability to remain brave and kind - a rare combination for anyone, especially a little girl - is paramount to setting herself and her parents free. At first glance she appears a selfish and anxious preteen. Then, through her adventures and encounters with a vast company of those willing to help if only asked in the right way, Chihiro discovers she is more resilient and resourceful than she had any chance to once believe. It is the wonder of Miyazaki's films that so many of his young protagonists find the best of themselves when thrust into unexpected and testing circumstances. It may be that Miyazaki is simmering the notion that there is often more to each of us than our current easy situations are pushing us to confront and realize.
   And this idea and the enchanted story full of such abstract yet accessible characters give way to images of transcendent magic and power. There are certain scenes that are not of this world. But I catch sight of them and am instantly bowled over - awed - with uncanny recognition. I simply feel as if I have dreamed of these gorgeous landscapes before some night long ago and must have forgotten them until this very second. It is the most spine-tingling sensation. In a good way. In the best way. I can't say that about many films. Spirited Away is one I can watch again and again.

Review of the novel The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

“Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it really isn't about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn't about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it's about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.”*

   As an individual who has never experienced the desire to have children, there are many moments, innumerable probably, in which it is terrifying to be a human with working reproductive organs. Every month, no matter the precautions I’ve taken or the acts I have not engaged in, I am grateful for not being pregnant. It’s a quiet celebration, just as it was a silent waiting agony until that very second of negative confirmation. 

     It’s becoming a more frightening predicament recently, and not just for me. There are intensely loudening rumbles all throughout the country from individuals, groups and organizations who would outlaw the right of those with viable reproductive organs to have control over those very organs. Just a few days before the time of this post’s publication, Mississippi, proceeded by a handful of other states, passed a measure of law drastically limiting the time in which a woman may obtain services to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. This is even in cases of proven rape or incest. The restrictions and rules are becoming more encompassing and strict with every step away from the 1973 federal ruling in the case of Roe v. Wade that is taken.

     I'm not one to throw my politics out there all the time, at least not in the last couple of years or so. I sincerely attempt to listen to others’ opinions, feelings and viewpoints on the world. There are as many possibilities and contexts as there are human beings on the planet. And I value that there does not exist only one way to take aim at an issue, especially one so multidimensional as abortion services. But I am also done apologizing for stating something that is a rock hard truth for so many of us in the world. Perhaps this timidness to speak fact is an unfortunate part of my past and ongoing cultural education - the distinct feelings of guilt for making others uncomfortable despite the reality of what I am attempting to say.

     I truly value that the ability to give birth is something so precious to so many out there. And I am not at all attempting to belittle the struggle many go through to bear the children they so dearly desire and love. Nor do I mean to imply that intense self-reflection and thought should not be an integral part of the process of these choices. They certainly must be given proper weight. I simply mean to restate that there are those who mistakenly believe that a woman does not know what is best to do with her own body - that the choice should not be up to her, or that there should be drastic limits placed upon a severely few number of possibilities. It frightens me to no end. I worry about what the implications of these rules and restrictions mean for the future and for those who will be directly affected by them, that being everyone.

     This line of thinking led me to once again pick up Margaret Atwood’s novel, The Handmaid’s Tale. Set within a bleak dystopian future where the ability to reproduce has been sharply curbed by the effects of world pollution and gross misuse of genetic science, those few woman of childbearing age and potential are kept as broodmares for the rich and powerful. Or, as they are more politely called, handmaidens. This fictional mono-theocratic society no longer allows these women to obtain education or read, work jobs, or have their own families. They have been reduced to their most base function - as viable wombs - not the dynamic, feeling, loving human beings of infinite potentials that they may have been in a different time and place. 

     Despite the bleak and horrific premise, it is at times a startlingly gorgeous narrative, consummated through Atwood’s stark yet sensual language. The prolific author has always possessed the most unique ability to write of her characters’ inner lives in plain but also lush, detailed prose. Thus, she renders so relatable what, for most other writers, can never be made known despite stacking countless words upon phrases upon paragraphs upon pages of explanation.

     Whatever the methods that Atwood employs - be they great details of science fiction or tiny, affecting moments of subversive action - the results are stunning. This is a message book; I have to admit that. But it is also a well-told yarn, a satirical fable that sweeps up readers with a stealth ease. And, as if in the grip of a mysterious and unseen river current, one is carried along through the story until that final page and final line. Then, when deposited back on the shore of reality, there is a shivery sensation of truth to the fiction inscribed within the book’s thin confines. It is quiet but unmistakable.

*excerpt from the novel

Deserted Island List Mania: 5 Favorite Music Albums (if the island had a record player)

   The problem with a list like this is that it forces decisions. No flexibility, no bargaining, no changing once the post has been published to the web. I'm not all that good at making snap decisions, or even ones that I've had plenty of time to fret and fuss over. I have to say that I like pondering uncertainties, playing with possibilities, flexing the balance of my stance on some things. So it was a difficult undertaking to actually write this entry in the Deserted Island List Mania. I had to nail it down, no wiggling. Even the knowledge that this is a truly hypothetical list didn't help all that much. 
   But I did it anyway. These are the five music albums that always strike me - be it immediately or with the settling of several listens - in ways I can't begin to adequately describe. I would be able to play these again and again and remain satisfied. They are albums that do not flit in and out of my playing rotation; they are not fads or trendy ditties, at least not to me. I could listen to these five on repeat for all time.

In no particular order:

1. Still Bill - Bill Withers

   By declaring that this is a great pick-me-up album, I feel I might be down-playing the overall musician and craftsmanship of these songs. Bill sang about what he felt strongly for - moments of beauty mixed with truly experienced emotions. In his own words, "I write and sing about whatever I am able to understand and feel. I feel that it is healthier to look out at the world through a window than through a mirror. Otherwise, all you see is yourself and whatever is behind you."




2. Band of Gypsys Live - Jimi Hendrix, Billy Cox, & Buddy Miles

   After the dissolution of the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Jimi formed this group and the trio made their live debut at the Fillmore East on the eve of 1970. Jimi died only six months later, making this the last album he officially authorized. The original vinyl release features all new songs for the time played in front of an appreciative and excited audience. This is the one of the ultimate albums for funky, psychedelic guitar riffs. It also features a greatly talented rhythm section just trying to keep up with Jimi's free-wheeling genius.  No one could do the soul like Jimi.



3. Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea - P.J. Harvey


   This album is atmospheric and ethereal while showcasing some major lyric writing and musicianship chops. P. J., with her singular voice and sound, created an album of great cohesiveness and story. Plus its got some crunchy guitar riffs. Just awesome.







4. Songs For The Deaf - Queens of The Stone Age

   A perfect storm of heavy stoner rock mixed with catchy hooks and brilliant production, Songs For The Deaf features this band at its absolute peak. And Dave Grohl is behind the drums, where he belongs.









5. The Low End Theory - A Tribe Called Quest

   Simply awesome and accessible hip hop. This is one of the only cassettes that the tape deck in my '97 Corolla will still play, so let's just say I have intimate knowledge of the ins and outs of this impressive album.









Cheater Bonus Album: De-Loused In The Comatorium - The Mars Volta

   Prog rock. Yes, I dabble in a love for some prog rock. A true concept album, De-Loused is the debut full-length of this energetic and talented band that, at times, tests patience yet rewards with epic highs filled with storms of rhythm and riffs that culminate in a singular experience of sound. It's totally nerdy, but also totally worth it.








Super Duper Cheater Bonus Album That I Simply Could Not Live Without And Can't Believe I Nearly Forgot: Passover - The Black Angels

   Austin psych band The Black Angels' first studio full-length album. If you're in the mood for dark and atmospheric rock songs with rhythmic drone, kick-ass bass and drum lines, along with those inventive psychedelic guitar riffs that I so adore, then this is the album for you. I have to admit that I listen to this one at least once a week. I need my dose.

Review of the novel Mary Reilly by Valerie Martin

  I treasure books that offer a fresh twist on classic tales, elevating those characters that were given little voice in the original telling. Often these individuals are the overlooked of society, those so easily forgotten by history. It does not matter if the characters are made of fiction or if they truly lived. These new stories give them, mostly women of ages past, the agency each of our lives deserves.
   This novel offers up the seminal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story from a unique and intriguing angle - that of the Doctor's housemaid. Mary Reilly is quick-witted and dutiful to a fault, bearing heavy scars from her past. Privy to a quickly deepening pool of secrets, the young woman's bond with her employer only grows more intimate and powerful. Author Valerie Martin seamlessly weaves her tale with that of the original's haunting details and characters. And as the mysterious events and encounters seen from her distinct viewpoint begin to multiply faster, Mary must decide how far she is willing to go for this man. Notably as she increasingly suspects that the Doctor may be a near-deafening echo of the monster from her childhood.

Review of the novel The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

“They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried.”*

   This novel strikes me with the contradictory yet complimentary natures of simplicity and complexity. Trudging, slogging, tearing though the countryside and battlefields of the Vietnam War, it all comes down to those things that they carried. The hundreds of ammunition rounds, the machine guns, assault rifles and grenades, the mortars and shells, the radios and maps, these are all humped through the stretching hot days along with the rations and water, the extra pairs of socks, the illustrated bibles and love letters, the trinkets from home, and, so often, each other - through an environment alive with menace, both manmade and natural. They carried the awareness of the limitless danger inherent in a war that no one understood, most of all, themselves. They carried the very human ability to die for a flimsy and misguided cause simply because they were afraid not to.
   And those who survived, those who walked away, continue to carry it all within the intricate folds and glimmering visions of memories. A map, a photograph, the rising cadence of a voice, may bring certain scenes back - events that truly happened or those flashing moments existing on the border of near-truth and myth. These men remain haunted.
   Written in the guise of interconnected short stories, Mr. O'Brien blends quiet intimacy with the rumbling thunder of the universal. No one goes untouched within War's reach, and those who hiked the steaming jungles and fields of that far-off country carry their scars of knowledge - of those terrible things that one man can do to another.

*excerpt from novel

Review of the novel In The Skin Of A Lion by Michael Ondaatje

   

   I can't begin to explain how beautiful and transcendent this novel is to me. The writing is lyrically evocative while the narrative weaves strands of intimate individual stories together with stunningly reimagined factual events. Walking among the quickly-growing immigrant communities of 1920s Toronto, Patrick Lewis searches for a missing millionaire and, perhaps, his future. While searching, the young man also stumbles upon the thin line between myth and altering history. Those we so often miss in the common recollections of modernity flicker to life all throughout Patrick's journey to decisive action. Those girder and strut builders, the workmen and women of civilization, whose stories are never touched upon, shimmer into focus within the pages of this novel. And the quiet yet clear sensation of a true epic masterpiece unfolding among the scenes and chapters of In The Skin Of A Lion is sincerely swoon-worthy. I have read and re-read nearly all of Michael Ondaatje's works, but this is the one that rises highest among them for me. Certain turns of phrase and specific revelations have the ability to make my hair stand on end in pleasure. Echoes upon echoes of this book will forever live in the folds of my mind.

Deserted Island List Mania: 5 Favorite Films (if the island had a DVD player)

   I am (quite obviously) in love with movies. I enjoy watching, talking about and writing about them. Realizing that, by definition, deserted islands do not have electricity to power non-existent DVD players nor does Netflix reach everywhere, specifically tiny islands without internet access, and that my copies would be useless would not stop me. I'd bring them anyway, just because I cannot see myself without their presence.
   These are the five films that I could stand to watch over and over again. They continuously surprise me. And every time I watch I find myself bowled over by images of echoing and transcendent beauty, humor, and/or profundity. Each one has the ability to alter my mood, living inside my head for days to come. These are movies that I will never forget, be it for the story, the characters, the worlds that are created or the experiences they afford me.

In no particular order:

1. Walkabout directed by Nicholas Roeg

   "Australia has a dirty history, much like every country on this earth, but it is just as true and filthy as those. The clean and beautiful lines of the buildings and roadways that snake around the perimeter of that island continent were not always present; their history is new and built on the soil of an older culture. Move inland from these glittering cities on the cusp of the sea and one will find traces of that older culture—one of the oldest on the planet. One sees the outback, an immense stretch of landscape that has shaped that culture and will continue to shape it beyond the time that those gleaming structures of the cities possess. Director Nicholas Roeg places us in this landscape, along with its sordid history, as simply as opening a beautiful picture book." - Excerpt from my 01/27/11 review of the film.



2. The Big Lebowski directed by the Coen Brothers

   It's difficult to choose one movie from the Coen Brothers' impressive filmography, but, then again, this particular selection seems like a no-brainer. Tied to some really memorable moments in my life, this genius comedy slash mystery is just as memorable. I can't begin to explain the ins and outs of the plot and characters in a concise manner, so just watch it and enjoy.







3.  Winter's Bone directed by Debra Granik

    "A rural sheriff arrives. He explains the situation slowly and does not elaborate. A 17 year old girl listens; she already knows what she has to do. Behind her is the backwoods cabin she lives in with her two younger siblings and catatonic mother. She takes care of them, makes sure they are provided for and healthy, and the weight of that responsibility leans on her shoulders as she faces the sheriff. “I’ll find him,” she says in a quiet but certain manner." - Excerpt from my 01/28/11 review of the film. 



4. Pan's Labyrinth directed by Guillermo del Toro

   A gorgeous and inventive fable of a film. Set during the Spanish Civil War, the fairy-tale story balances del Toro's intricately-detailed magical realism with the everyday nature of the thin line running between the political and the personal. The images within are evocative and dream-like, yet always grounded in realism. This movie makes me swoon a little bit every time.







5. Spirited Away directed by Hayao Miyazaki 

   "It is the wonder of Miyazaki's films that so many of his young protagonists find the best of themselves when thrust into unexpected and testing circumstances. It may be that Miyazaki is simmering the notion that there is often more to each of us than our current easy situations are pushing us to confront and realize." - Excerpt from my 05/11/14 review of the film.







Cheater Bonus Film: Children of Men directed by Alfonso Cuaron  

   This is definitely one of the only times I will admit that a film adaptation surpasses the power of the book on which it is based. The impact of the scenes that Cuaron hits the viewer with are astounding in their intricate weaving of issues of class and race, character development and change, and pure, visceral emotion. It's a color-soaked portrait of humans clinging to the end of civilization. A film that posits the notion that the end of days may bring about the worst in most but can also inspire the good in a few.




Super Cheater Bonus - TV Series: The Simpsons. Duh.

   I don't believe I need to go into any explanation for this particular pick.

Review of the documentary The Rape of Europa

   World War II history fascinates me to no end. The turmoil and devastation directly influenced the paternal side of my family profoundly, sending my then teenage grandmother, her brothers and her parents as well as thousands of their fellow Lithuanians on a meandering, 8 years long path to the Midwest region of the US. I have heard the stories surrounding this journey countless times throughout my life. However, only in the last 5 years or so, have I taken a sincere interest in the immeasurable extent of the War on the world, specifically the whole of the European continent and its effected neighbors.
   I came upon the 2007 documentary The Rape of Europa while scanning through Netflix the other day. Chronicling the Nazi plundering of major works of art and the efforts to save them, the film gives viewers a in-depth look at WWII history from an art-lover's perspective. The atrocities committed against humanity are never downplayed in importance. Rather, this documentary brings light to the plight and dedication of those striving to bring masterpieces of the world out of the darkness of war and give them back to humanity. The narrative weaves together photographs, video recordings, witness testimonials, and art and war historians' discussions to create a relatively comprehensive picture of this particular history. Perhaps due to the limited running time of the film, its scope may not be as far-ranging as I would like, and the lack of racial and ethnic diversity among the story-tellers and experts is questionable. What of the destruction, theft, and restoration efforts in the Middle East? Egypt and northern Africa? It is true that these many of these countries are not part of Europe-proper, but these are still quite stark omissions. 
   Despite its limitations, I would recommend The Rape of Europa if one wishes to gain more perspective on the far-reaching effects of the war not always discussed. The importance of art for humanity should never be denied. Listening to the witness testimonials, viewers certainly can see how sincerely affecting art has the potential to be to individuals and the whole of the human race.