It's often the case that the most strained moments in books are the very beginning and the very end - the getting in and the getting out. The ending, especially: it's awkward, as if the writer doesn't know when the book is over and nervously says it all again.

The Iron Curtain may be a thing of the past, but Mother Russia is as mysterious as ever.

Almost the first thing you see after entering the Houdini exhibition at the Jewish Museum is a large-screen film of Harry Houdini hanging by his ankles upside-down from a tall building, high over a sea of men in fedoras, and thrashing his way out of a straitjacket.

Gelsey Kirkland has had more than her share of demons, as her two distressing memoirs - and her violently checkered career - attest.

To be honest, I have no idea what happens after my career.

It's a business. But as a player, it sucks to know you were just thrown into a trade for it to work.

You have to understand that I never thought I would have a career in music. That kind of thing didn't happen. Not for women, not in Canada, not in the 1960s. It was something I did for fun.

I didn't really think too much about being any kind of pioneer. The truth is, I actually kind of caught onto a couple of really great coat tails in my career. The things were already moving when I got involved in both cases, really - Poco and the Eagles.