A 2023 BOOK OF THE YEAR INTHEGUARDIANAND THENEW YORKER
‘Captivating’Literary Review
‘Powerful’New Scientist
‘Impressive’Spectator
‘Important’Financial Times
Waste is everywhere. It’s clogging our rivers and littering our streets. The Pacific Ocean contains a great garbage patch three times the size of France. Our junk is even orbiting the earth. No wonder there are microplastics in our bloodstreams.
Waste, a problem we’ve ignored for too long, is now a global crisis – and it’s getting worse.
From the landfills of New Delhi, to the second-hand clothing markets of Ghana and the overflowing sewers of Britain, join Oliver Franklin-Wallis as he reveals the dirty truth about the global waste industry.
In this eye-opening and ultimately hopeful book, he meets some of the heroic people trying to make a difference and explains precisely how we can create a better, less wasteful world.]]>
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Six minutes after takeoff, Flight 1421 crashes into the Pacific Ocean. During the evacuation, an engine explodes and the plane is flooded. Those still alive are forced to close the doors—but it’s too late. The plane sinks to the bottom with twelve passengers trapped inside.
More than two hundred feet below the surface, engineer Will Kent and his eleven-year-old daughter Shannon are waist-deep in water and fighting for their lives.
Their only chance at survival is an elite rescue team on the surface led by professional diver Chris Kent - Shannon’s mother and Will’s soon-to-be ex-wife - who must work together with Will to find a way to save their daughter and rescue the passengers from the sealed airplane, which is now teetering on the edge of an undersea cliff.
There’s not much time.
With devastating emotional power and heart-stopping suspense, Drowning is an unforgettable thriller about a family’s desperate fight to save themselves and the people trapped with them - against impossible odds.
Praise for Drowning:
'Stunning, emotional, and unforgettable.Drowningreads likeApollo 13underwater' Don Winslow,New York Timesbestselling author ofCity on FireandThe Border
'DrowningisThe Poseidon AdventuremeetsThe Martian. It is another can’t-put-down, edge-of-your-seat thriller from T. J. Newman, one of our most exciting new authors' Adrian McKinty,New York Timesbestselling author ofThe ChainandThe Island
'Drowning is pure adrenaline and all heart. Gripping, relentless, effortlessly assured, T. J. Newman’s thriller is tense and moving. You’ll be grabbed from page oneas the crew and passengers of a downed airliner fight for survival and rescuers race to reach them. Drowning is an incredible ride - strap in, brace, and remember to breathe' Meg Gardiner, #1New York Timesbestselling author
'Drowning is the first terrific thriller of 2023. Honest. It has at least a dozen legit cliffhangers and a dozen huggable characters you can’t stop rooting for. T.J. Newman has the goods. Make that
thegreats!' James Patterson'No second album syndrome for TJ Newman, who follows up her hit plane-hijack debutFallingwith another tense, affecting account of an aviation disaster inDrowning. This feels like a movie blockbuster-to-be, with James Cameron the ideal director.' The Sunday Times
‘Buckle up because this edge-of-the-seat thriller won’t let you go, not until you know the outcome, anyway. Cue rescue teams, complex plans, and a nail-biting and emotional race against the clock. Breath taking stuff.’ Zoe West, Women’s Weekly
'With devastating emotional power and heart-stopping suspense, Drowning is an unforgettable thriller about a family’s desperate fight to save themselves and the people trapped with them - against impossible odds.' Magic Radio Book Club
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Eva has toured with bands since her early twenties. She has written the music and lyrics for Harriet a musical based on an early Jilly Cooper novel due to open in 2023. She has a geek-like fascination with pop music, and her party trick is recalling chart positions.
Follow her on twitter @EvaRiceAuthor
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'Every time I have read one of Eva Rice’s books it has felt like a modern classic. Tender, and acutely observed, the characters ofThis Could Be Everything have stayed with me. Reading it every night felt like wrapping myself a comfort blanket' JOJO MOYES
‘The most gorgeous feel-good story about love and grief and how the smallest things can start a journey of healing.’ GEORGINA MOORE, author of The Garnett Girls
'I finished it in a breathless emotional gulp. Truly wonderful, incredibly moving...funny, witty, wise and superbly written...The age beautifully evoked' STEPHEN FRY
'You will rejoice as February gradually finds happiness again, consoled by two little canaries, the treadmill of the Top 40, the rare beauties of Nineties London and finally true love. Eva’s latest story HAS everything' JILLY COOPER
It’s 1990.The Happy Mondays are in the charts, a 15-year-old called Kate Moss is on the cover of theFacemagazine, and Julia Roberts wears thigh-boots for the poster for a new movie calledPretty Woman.
February Kingdom is nineteen years old when she is knocked sideways by family tragedy. Then one evening in May she finds an escaped canary in her kitchen and it sparks a glimmer of hope in her. With the help of the bird called Yellow, Feb starts to feel her way out of her own private darkness, just as her aunt embarks on a passionate and all-consuming affair with a married American drama teacher.
THIS COULD BE EVERYTHINGis a coming-of-age story with its roots under the pavements of a pre-Richard Curtis-era Notting Hill that has all but vanished. It’s about what happens when you start looking after something more important than you, and the hope a yellow bird can bring…
Praise for This Could Be Everything:
'A beautiful, atmospheric, brilliantly observed thing of joy. Eva Rice is a fantastic observer and relayer of the human experience. Absolutely wonderful' Mel Giedroyc
'A beautiful balm of a book full of hope and possibility,This Could Be Everythingwill break your heart and piece it back togetheragain with wit, warmth and magic. The way Rice weaves together fiction and reality is delicious, with details on every page that will have pop fans, Londoners and 90s nostalgics squealing with delight. Nobody captures the exhilaration of first love and teen fandom quite like her' Lauren Bravo
‘A reason to be cheerful - THIS COULD BE EVERYTHING is the book I've been waiting my whole life for, a perfect 90s period piece about sisters, it's glam, gorgeous, a little bit melancholic and a lot charming’ Daisy Buchanan
‘This moving, hopeful and brilliantly told story inhabits the West London of my youth. I loved it’ Betty Boo
‘A gorgeous story about first love and hope’ Red
‘A moving novel about sisterhood, grief and first love’ Good Housekeeping
'The story of loss, love - and ultimately hope - is beautifully told. You won't be able to put it down' Heat]]>
THE ISLES OF SCILLY MYSTERIES #7
‘An absolute master of pace, plotting and character’ ELLY GRIFFITHS
ON A REMOTE ISLAND
When Jez Cardew’s boat is found drifting empty on the Atlantic Ocean, DI Ben Kitto and his fellow lifeboat crew members immediately fear the worst. After an extensive search yields no results, the team are forced to retreat to dry land as darkness sets in.
THE OCEAN IS MERCILESS
But Kitto can’t let it go. Why would Jez – an experienced sailor – get into difficulty when the sea has been calm for weeks? Unless his disappearance was no accident.
BUT SO ARE THE PEOPLE . . .
The gruesome discovery of a hand washed ashore on the beach confirms his hunch. Because a medal is attached to the index finger, and it can only have been placed there by the killer.
This strange clue is the only lead to an agenda as cold as the ocean itself. Kitto must work fast, before the small, isolated community closes ranks. And it’s only a matter of time before the murderer among them strikes again . . .
Perfect for fans of Lucy Foley, Ann Cleeves and Elly Griffiths, this gripping new locked-island mystery will keep you on the edge of your seat until the bitter end.
‘Beautifully written and expertly plotted’ GUARDIAN
‘Kate Rhodes directs her cast of suspects with consummate skill, keeping us guessing right to the heartbreaking end’ LOUISE CANDLISH]]>
‘Clever, atmospheric and compelling’ WOMAN'S WEEKLY
‘Expertly weaves a sense of place and character into a tense and intriguing story’ METRO
‘Rhodes does a superb job of balancing a portrayal of a tiny community oppressed by secrets with an uplifting evocation of setting’ JAKE KERRIDGE, SUNDAY EXPRESS
‘A vividly realised protagonist whose complex and harrowing history rivals the central crime storyline’ SOPHIE HANNAH, DAILY EXPRESS
‘Rhodes is a published poet and every one of her sentences sings’ FINANCIAL TIMES
‘Gripping, clever and impossible to put down . . . The claustrophobia and paranoia of the island are so brilliantly evoked, I could almost feel the tide encroaching as time ran out to find the killer’ ERIN KELLY
‘The whole book tingles with tension. I hope it does for the Scilly Isles what Ann Cleeves did for Shetland’ MEL MCGRATH
‘Evocative, immersive, twisty’ SARAH VAUGHAN
‘One of the most absorbing books I’ve read in a long time’ MEL SHERRATT]]>
Gwen’s life has stalled. She’s in her mid-thirties, perpetually single, her friends are busy procreating in the country and conversations with her parents seem to revolve entirely around herbaceous borders and the council’s wheelie-bin timetable. Above all she’s lonely. But then, isn’t everyone?
When Gwen’s made redundant from a job she drifted into a decade ago and never left, she realises it’s time to make a change. Over what might be the best – and most solitary – meal she’s ever eaten, Gwen vows to find something meaningful to do with her life, reconnect with her family and friends – and finally book herself a dentist appointment.
Her search for meaning soon leads her to volunteer in a local charity shop where she both literally and metaphorically unloads her emotional baggage. With the help of the weird and wonderful people she meets in the shop and the donated items bursting with untold stories that pass through its doors, Gwen must finally address the events and choices that led her to this point and find a way to move forward with bravery, humanity and more regular dental care.
Brimming with life, love and the stories bound up in even the most everyday items,Prelovedis a tale about friendship, loss, being true to oneself no matter the expectations – and the enduring power and joy of charity shops.
'A heartwarming tale of friendship, loss and being true to yourself, regardless of expectations.'Redmagazine
'I think I’ve been waiting for a novel like Preloved for my whole reading life. This is a luscious, shimmering book of depth and delicacy. It’s sad, hilarious, sad, tender, brutal, brilliantly observed – there is a sense of magic on every page.' Daisy Buchanan, author ofInsatiable
'Preloved is full of sharp observations on life, loss, regret and self-preservation... spilling over with wit and hope. Cleverly interwoven with stories of the myriad reasons items find their way into charity shops, the joy, friendship and ultimate enlightenment Gwen discovers offers a quirky and poignant reminder that one person's trash is always somebody else's treasure.' Julietta Henderson, author ofThe Funny Thing about Norman Foreman
'Just like that once-in-a-lifetime charity shop find, Preloved is a gleaming prize to be treasured. Lauren Bravo is witty and thoughtful in her exploration of our relationship with objects and trends, believing that – just as a pair of shoes can have many, many lives – so can the people that wear them.' Caroline O'Donohue, author ofPromising Young Woman
'Laugh-out-loud funny but also poignant and tender, Preloved is an absorbingly special debut novel. I devoured in equal measure the delicious descriptions of food and the moving vignettes of preloved treasures peppered throughout the book, while the nineties and noughties nostalgia had me gasping with pleasure.' Laura Price, author of Single Bald Female
'Full of relatable anecdotes, lively, funny and modern,Preloved is a moving tale of emancipationand friendship. I loved it!'Margaux Vialleron, author ofThe Yellow Kitchen]]>
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Sometime, me love to dream that me is a human, a proper one, like them white folks is.
Enslaved on a plantation in Barbados, Obah dreams of freedom. As talk of rebellion bubbles up around her in the Big House, she imagines escape. Meeting a strange boy who’s not quite of this world, she decides to put her trust in him. But Jacob is from the twenty-first century. Desperate to give Obah a better life, he takes her back with him. At first it seems like dreams really do come true – until the cracks begin to show and Obah sees that freedom comes at an unimaginable cost . . .
Hopeful and devastating, this powerful novel about equality, how far we’ve come, and how far we still have to go, introduces an extraordinary new literary voice.
Praise forHow Far We've Come:
‘A powerful exploration of racism, solidarity, friendship, freedom and hope’ Laura Bates
‘One of the most impressive young adult debuts of the year. This gripping novel takes a nuanced look at the legacy of slavery, injustice and inequality in today's world’ Observer
‘Both hopeful and heartbreaking, this gripping book turns a searchlight on the changing faces of injustice through time’ Guardian
‘A brilliant idea and a powerful debut’ The Times,Children’s Book of the Week
‘A seriously impressive debut. Read it now’ Irish Times
‘A powerful, ambitious, unforgettable read about freedom, rebellion, love and hope’ Liz Hyder
‘A gut punch of a debut, this book is both vital reading and a call to arms’ Laura Wood
‘Compassionate, brave, authentic, educational. Everyone should read it’ Abiola Bello]]>
Just gone. Vanished. In the blink of an eye.
DCS Kat Frank knows all about loss. A widowed single mother, Kat is a cop who trusts her instincts. Picked to lead a pilot programme that has her paired with AIDE (Artificially Intelligent Detective Entity) Lock, Kat's instincts come up against Lock's logic. But when the two missing person's cold cases they are reviewing suddenly become active, Lock is the only one who can help Kat when the case gets personal.
AI versus human experience.
Logic versus instinct.
With lives on the line can the pair work together before someone else becomes another statistic?
In the Blink of an Eye is a dazzling debut from an exciting new voice and asks us what we think it means to be human.
‘I started reading this morning and ten hours later I’ve finished it! It’s so, SO good – really properly compelling, impossible to put down – I was desperate for the solution to the mystery – but so human and moving and massively thought-provoking on what makes us human’ Laura Marshall
‘Completely different and utterly brilliant’ Amanda Reynolds
‘SO good. A really clever twist on the police procedural that asks big questions about instinct, bias, and what it means to be human while also delivering a cracker of a plot. Loved it’ Phoebe Locke
‘It’s phenomenal . . .Perfect blend of police procedural and techno thriller and kept me guessing right to the end!’ StephBroadribb
'It's so much more than a dystopian police procedural and asks questions about who we are and what it means to be human. Brilliant' Nikki Smith
'Thrilling, thought-provoking andcinematic — a slam dunk for movie/TV adaptation'Alexandra Sokoloff, author of the Huntress Moon thrillers
‘Fabulous! A rare crime novel truly as much about character as it is about plot…cried at the ending…huge potential series exploring the human AI connection. Loved'Lindsay Galvin
'I tore through this one in a day. One of the best new crime partnerships to emerge in fiction'Simon Bewick, Bay Tales Festival, Virtual Noir at the Bar]]>
‘A fresh and intriguing detective double act – I fell hard for all-too-human Kat and her AI colleague Lock . . . a riveting cold case mystery told with compassion and verve’ Louise Candlish
‘This brilliant debut had me gripped the whole way through. A refreshing and different take on the police procedural genre’ Prima
‘Crime fiction is full of detectives who have been paired up with someone they don’t like. Few have to get used to a bossy hologram, which is what happens in Jo Callaghan’s entertaining and thought-provoking novel . . . Callaghan grounds her novel in real life, challenging her unusual team to investigate the unsolved disappearances of two students. The moral dilemmas created by artificial intelligence are brilliantly explored in this altogether very human novel’ Sunday Times
'It's so much more than a dystopian police procedural and asks questions about who we are and what it means to be human. Brilliant' Nikki Smith
‘Daring and original, heartbreaking and heart-stopping, this study of what it means to be human is destined to not only be a big success, but a classic crime novel of our times. Loved it’ Caz Frear
‘A standout debut with a unique and thrilling take on the detective novel. Engaging, exciting and superbly readable. I loved it’ Sarah Hilary
‘A truly original premise that is both compelling and filled with heart. Highly recommended’ Olivia Kiernan
‘Clever and compelling, it offers a new take on the police procedural while also examining what it means to be human and the personal cost of loss’ Brian McGilloway
‘Intuitive DCS Frank and logical AI Lock are the perfect pairing. Alongside some wonderfully surreal tech is an investigation grounded in the grittily real. Jo Callaghan explores what makes us human; our flaws and errors, our loves and losses and sometimes our refusal to stop asking questions. Even at its most terrifying, this is a story told with heart and soul’ Jess Kidd
‘Completely different and utterly brilliant’ Amanda Reynolds
‘SO good. A really clever twist on the police procedural that asks big questions about instinct, bias, and what it means to be human while also delivering a cracker of a plot. Loved it’ Phoebe Locke
‘It’s phenomenal . . .Perfect blend of police procedural and techno thriller and kept me guessing right to the end!’ StephBroadribb
‘An incredible book. So original, gripping and wonderfully written. I raced through it’ Karen Hamilton
‘Everything I love in a police procedural but with an imaginative and fresh perspective. Clever and warm, it’s one of the best debuts I’ve read in years’ Jo Jakeman
‘Part futuristic high-concept crime thriller, part police-procedural, part treatise on what it is to be human; I am in awe of what Jo Callaghan has managed to pull off here. A compelling mystery set in a future that feels extremely close and relevant. Callaghan's knowledge of AI and its potential effect on the world is balanced perfectly by her nuanced insight into humanity and grief. I can't wait to see what's next for Kat and Lock. Roll on book two!’ Russ Thomas
‘A well written page turner, with a great premise and a big heart. I loved it’ JoBrowning Wroe
‘Gripping, fun, original and moving. A must for your reading pile’ David Fennell
‘Fabulous! A rare crime novel truly as much about character as it is about plot…cried at the ending…huge potential series exploring the human AI connection. Loved'Lindsay Galvin
‘I loved this book so much. In the Blink of an Eye is a page turner of a thriller, but it’s so much more than that. One that stays with you long after you turn the last page’ Frances Quinn
'Thrilling, thought-provoking andcinematic — a slam dunk for movie/TV adaptation'Alexandra Sokoloff, author of the Huntress Moon thrillers
‘A genuinely different take on the police procedural genre is hard to find, but Jo Callaghan has done it. DCS Kat Frank isn’t keen when she’s assigned an AI (Artificial Intelligence) as her partner as part of a pilot scheme, but she quickly finds their dynamic unearths fresh evidence in a case’
Good Housekeeping
‘The revelation of the full villainy involved in the two men’s disappearance is intriguing, but it is Kat – her personality, her relationship with her young son and her experience of loss – that really lifts this novel’
Literary Review
‘With well-drawn characters, believable emotions and an interesting premise, you can see this becoming a TV series. 7/10’ Independent
'One of the most original and modern police procedurals you’ll read . . . The results are astounding' Belfast Telegraph
‘Original and compelling’ Fabulous]]>
'A smart, agile, immaculately plotted and moving thriller that is unswervingly gripping and scary, and at the same time beautifully tender and humane' NICCI FRENCH
'Chilled me to the bone and I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.Callaghanwrites with such intelligence; interspersing humour with moments of utter heartbreak' NIKKI SMITH
One detective driven by instinct, the other by logic.
It will take both to find a killer who knows the true meaning of fear . . .
When the body of a man is found crucified at the top of Mount Judd, AIDE Lock – the world’s first AI Detective – and DCS Kat Frank are thrust into the spotlight as they are given their first live case.
But with the discovery of another man’s body – also crucified – it appears that their killer is only just getting started. With the police warning local men to be vigilant, the Future Policing Unit is thrust into a hostile media frenzy as they desperately search for connections between the victims. But time is running out for them to join the dots and prevent another death.
For if Kat and Lock know anything, it’s that killers rarely stop – until they are made to.
PRAISE FOR LEAVE NO TRACE:
‘A detective working with an artificial intelligence character is such a brilliant premise!’PRIMA, 3 of the best sequels to read this month
‘Callaghan, who is a professional researcher into the effects of AI, has a great talent for making the benefits and limitations of the technology comprehensible. Her account of Lock’s ability to absorb information about human relationships and to provide a sense of empathy and humour is fascinating'LITERARY REVIEW
‘Jo Callaghan’s debut novel In The Blink of an Eye might have been released over a year ago, but it’s still making waves… startlingly original, working as a compelling procedural, an examination of how far artificial intelligence has come – and could go – and an exploration of very human grief'CRIME MONTHLY
'With Leave No Trace, Jo Callaghan cements her status as a crime fiction force to be reckoned with' CAZ FREAR
'Seeing the return of Kat and Lock is like returning to old friends. A brilliant rapidly paced and plotted thriller. Couldn’t put it down. But a thriller with the added extra of being really very original. Executed perfectly. Another masterpiece' IMRAN MAHMOOD
'Every bit as smart, compelling and insightful as her debut' GYTHA LODGE
‘Balanced, nuanced, intelligent, provocative’ AMANDA REYNOLDS
'Jo Callaghan has done it again in this intricately plotted, humorous and incredibly moving thriller' LAURA MARSHALL
'It goes without saying that a crime thriller should keep you on the edge of your seat, but when it also makes you laugh out loud AND cry, you know you’re in the hands of an amazing writer. An absolutely brilliant read' FRANCES QUINN]]>
‘As brilliantly plotted and innovative asIn The Blink Of An Eye,AIDE Lock & DCS Frank are back inLeave No Trace.This time attempting to solve horrific murders in the dead of winter; the story chilled me to the bone and I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.Callaghanwrites with such intelligence; interspersing humour with moments of utter heartbreak’ Nikki Smith
‘Seeing the return of Kat and Lock is like returning to old friends. A brilliant rapidly paced and plotted thriller. Couldn’t put it down. But a thriller with the added extra of being really very original. Executed perfectly. Another masterpiece’ Imran Mahmood
‘I am rapidly becoming a huge Jo Callaghan fan. Leave No Trace was every bit as smart, compelling and insightful as her debut, and where these books really excel is in the emotional weight they bring to the thriller genre. A terrific read!’ Gytha Lodge
‘With Leave No Trace, Jo Callaghan cements her status as a crime fiction force to be reckoned with. Emotional and enthralling, with great dashes of humour throughout. It also includes one of the most heart-stopping yet satisfying endings I've read in a long time. More please, Jo!’Caz Frear
'Jo Callaghan has done it again in this intricately plotted, humorous and incredibly moving thriller. As well as being a gripping, fast-moving story in its own right, it has so much to say about the complementary roles of logic and emotion in policing (and life!), the complexities of grief and what it means to be human. I absolutely loved it'Laura Marshall
‘Another exciting and thought-provoking book from Jo Callaghan that combines cutting-edge tech with a classic police procedural that is hugely human and big-hearted. Brava!’Sarah Hilary
‘Balanced, nuanced, intelligent, provocative’ Amanda Reynolds
‘A terrific, immersive read! I found it utterly believable, and it's rare to find a crime novel that captures the AI zeitgeist, with so much authority and verve. The plot is devilishly clever too. I loved it!’
Kate Rhodes
‘I don’t know how, but Jo manages to explore huge societal questions through the medium of a pacy thriller. There’s tension by the bucketload. It’s tough and tender, and is a masterclass in persuading a reader to keep turning pages. Chris McDonald
‘It goes without saying that a crime thriller should keep you on the edge of your seat, but when it also makes you laugh out loud AND cry, you know you’re in the hands of an amazing writer. An absolutely brilliant read’ Frances Quinn]]>
Vox meets The Handmaid’s Talein this feminist reimagining of 1984
In Oceania, whoever you are, Big Brother is always watching you and trust is a luxury that no one has. Julia is the seemingly perfect example of what women in Oceania should be: dutiful, useful, subservient, meek. But Julia hides a secret. A secret that would lead to her death if it is discovered. For Julia is part of the underground movement called The Sisterhood, whose main goal is to find members of The Brotherhood, the anti-Party vigilante group, and help them to overthrow Big Brother. Only then can everyone be truly free.
When Julia thinks she’s found a potential member of The Brotherhood, it seems like their goal might finally be in their grasp. But as she gets closer to Winston Smith, Julia’s past starts to catch up with her and we soon realise that she has many more secrets than we’d first imagined – and that overthrowing Big Brother might cost her everything – but if you have nothing left to lose then you don’t mind playing the game . . .
This is a story about love, about family, about being a woman, a mother, a sister, a friend and ultimately about what you would sacrifice for the greater good.
'Fast-paced and suspenseful . . .The Sisterhood'sgreatest gift, however, may be in its message of hope, capable of surmounting even the most formidable of odds and the most uncertain of futures' KATHERINE J. CHEN, author of Joan
'A gut-wrenching, heart-breaking journey through the looking glass of 1984. Compulsively written, Julia’s is a story begging to be told' FREYA BERRY, author of The Dictator's Wife
'A shockingly relevant take on a classic' CLAIRE MCGOWAN, author of This Could Be Us
'A dazzling retelling of the classic dystopian novel, which raises profound questions about how society works, and whether or not woman have political agency. I found it memorable, deeply moving, and at times, terrifying' KATE RHODES, author of the Ben Kitto series
'Katherine Bradley has delivered a worthy counterpart to George Orwell's 1984 in this chilling, taut book. It's as claustrophobic as it needs to be; particularly frightening as one looks around and sees that we are voluntarily moving towards Orwell's nightmare. It is nothing short of a triumph' MARA TIMON, author of City of Spies
‘In this highly original take on Orwell’s 1984– the Big Brother of all dystopian classics – Bradley weaves a complex and engaging plot around the idea of a female resistance to oppressive overlords. Oppressive and creepy, but with real heart’ A. K. TURNER, author of Body Language
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Three bad things: A heartbreak, a loss of independence, and a death.
Three good things: A life-changing trip, reconnecting with someone, and meeting her soulmate.
The issue is that Ginny is due to get married in a month… but it’s all nonsense, obviously. But when some of those pesky predictions start coming true she starts to wonder what might happen next…]]>
'Life-affirming, relatable and effortlessly funny, I read this in two days flat and am now bereft that it’s finished’ KATE RIORDAN
'Fun, Feisty and Fabulous. Perfect escapism -I love Lucy Vine'MILLY JOHNSON]]>
Set in a lavish world of sorceresses, alchemists, jinn and flying carpets, this spine-tingling middle-grade book is perfect for fans of Kiran Millwood Hargrave and Sophie Anderson.
Confined to a besieged Settlement, Yara longs to free her mother from the alchemists in the City of Zehaira. When Yara receives a message from her mother to find the hidden residence of the Grand High Sorceress, it sets her on a different path.
Yara and her friends set off on an adventure to find her mother’s home, and to seek out a secret magic that her mother was working on – magic so powerful that it could defeat the alchemists once and for all. But the wicked alchemist Omair Firaaz is on her trail and will stop at nothing to gain the power himself…
Can Yara and her friends find the magic that could be the answer to everything … before it destroys them all?
From the author of the Waterstone’s Children’s Book of the Month The Kingdom Over the Seacomes a gorgeous, lyrical adventure about family and finding where you belong.
Praise for The City Beyond the Stars:
“A thrilling, captivating adventure just as fun and magical as the original. Storytelling at its best.” – Hannah Gold,author ofThe Last Bear
"The book shines with magic and the power of storytelling. Spellbinding." – Zillah Bethell, author of The Song Walker
"Lyrical, magical and captivating - Zohra Nabi is the ultimate story sorcerer." – Laura Noakes, Cosima Unfortunate Steals A Star
"Vivid worldbuilding. A brilliant fantasy that children will devour." – Nazima Pathan, author of Dream Hunters
"A rare jewel, deftly plotted with thrilling twists and tension - flawless storytelling." – Sarah Driver, author of The Huntress
"I adored every second I spent with this book and I can't wait to read it again." – Jacob North, author of The Ice Apprentices
Praise for The Kingdom Over the Sea:
“Enchanting, immersive and beautifully imagined. Once I’d finished, I couldn’t stop dreaming of this magnificent magical world.” A.F. Steadman, author ofSkandar and the Unicorn Thief
“Spellbinding storytelling - lyrical, heartfelt, and glittering with possibilities.” Sophie Anderson,author ofThe House with Chicken Legs
“Intricately-woven and wholly authentic.” Aisha Bushby, author ofA Pocketful of Stars
“A glorious debut brimming with magic and warmth. The Kingdom Over The Sea dazzled me every time I turned the page.” – Natasha Hastings, author of The Miraculous Sweetmakers]]>
We're theBad Dragon Club and we'rebad as can be.
We’re rascals and rogues and wrong’uns all three.
We’re so full of bad, any badder and we’d burst.
We're the Bad Dragon Club and we’re here to do our worst.
Scorch, Grub and Fang think they are a rather fearsome gang. But when their attempts to cause mayhem somehow keep misfiring and actually HELP people, will these three bad dragons . . . turn good?
Look out for other, hilarious books by Beach:
The Dragon with the Blazing Bottom
The Knight with the Blazing Bottom
The Princess with the Blazing Bottom]]>
The 1923 FA Cup final – also known as the White Horse final – was the first football match played at the British Empire Exhibition Stadium. Although best remembered for its vast, well-beyond-capacity crowd, which had to be marshalled by a policeman atop a white horse, that afternoon marked the opening chapter of the long and eventful history of the stadium soon to be known simply as Wembley.
Over the 100 years since that overcrowded day, Wembley has established itself as the home of the beautiful game and, almost certainly, the world’s most famous football stadium.It occupies a special place in the hearts of players and punters alike. Watching your team at Wembley is the highlight of a fan’s lifetime of support; playing there the fulfilment of a childhood dream.
Its sacred pitch has been the crucible of many classic matches across the decades: World Cups have been won here, as have FA Cups, European Cups, play-off finals and more. And that hallowed turf has also seen greyhounds, stunt motorcycles, American football, plus the feet of 72,000 music fans at Live Aid in 1985.
Nige Tassell chooses 100 matches - from the well known to the esoteric - that have shaped Wembley's legacy and tells a lively and original alternative history of the past 100 years of football, and of Britain.We hear a ball boy’s perspective on the FA Cup Final when Bert Trautmann broke his neck, about the other commentator of the 1966 World Cup final, and why a cup-winning team of eleven unemployed mendidn'treceive a trophy from a future king.
Field of Dreams isthe story of how football found its home.
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In the autumn of 2020, Simon Barnes should have been leading a safari in Zambia, but Covid restrictions meant his plans had to be put on hold. Instead, he embarked on the only voyage of discovery that was still open to him. He walked to a folding chair at the bottom of his garden, and sat down. His itinerary: to sit in that very same spot every day for a year and to see - and hear - what happened all around him. It would be a stationary garden safari; his year of sitting dangerously had begun.
For the next twelve months, he would watch as the world around him changed day by day. Gradually, he began to see his surroundings in a new way; by restricting himself, he opened up new horizons, growing even closer to a world he thought he already knew so well.
The Year of Sitting Dangerously is a wonderfully evocative read; it inspires the reader to pay closer attention to the marvels that surround us all, and is packed with handy tips to help bring nature even closer to us.]]>
Heidi Swain is a Sunday Times Top Ten best-selling author who writes feel good fiction for Simon & Schuster. She releases two books a year (early summer and winter) and the stories all have a strong sense of community, family and friendship. She is currently writing books set in three locations - the Fenland town of Wynbridge, Nightingale Square in Norwich and Wynmouth on the Norfolk coast, as well as summer standalone titles.
Heidi lives in beautiful west Norfolk. She is passionate about gardening, the countryside, collecting vintage paraphernalia and reading. Her tbr pile is always out of control!
Heidi loves to chat with her readers and you can get in touch via her website or on social media.
]]>Ally and her dad, Geoff, run the family business, a creative retreat, from their home Hollyhock Cottage in picturesque Kittiwake Cove. They give their guests their dream break, but Ally hankers after glamourous city living, fancy restaurants and art galleries.
Ally’s survival strategy is to escape out of season, take a break abroad and pretend to be the person she always imagined she would be. She meets Logan while she’s away and he turns out to be exactly the kind of distraction she’s looking for.
With her spirits restored, Ally returns home, picks up the reins again and sets her sights on another successful season, but when Logan unexpectedly arrives on the scene, she soon realises she’s in for a summer that’s going to be far from straightforward…
A story about bringing a holiday home – and what happens when what goes on on holiday comes back to bite you…
Your favourite authors love Heidi Swain's books:
'A summer delight!'SARAH MORGAN
'A delightfully sunny readwith added intrigue and secrets'BELLA OSBORNE
'A ray of reading sunshine!'LAURA KEMP
'A lovely, sweet, summery read'MILLY JOHNSON
'An absolutely gorgeous summer tale of love and secrets'RACHAEL LUCAS
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‘A little slice of joy’ – heat
‘A gorgeous comfort-blanket read’ – Fabulous Magazine
‘Expect miles of smiles, laughter, and tears, lashings of spilled secrets, and the fun of meeting a charismatic cast of characters, and you have the perfect sunshine sparkler for spring and summer reading.’ – Lancashire Evening Post]]>
From the authors of the bestselling DRAGON MOUNTAIN comes the first in a brand-new, action-packed, dragon-obsessed series for 8+ readers.
‘Impossible to put down – a dynamic, dragon-filled, delight of an adventure.’– A. F. Steadman, author of SKANDAR AND THE UNICORN THIEF
Twelve-year-oldLance Lo, his younger sister Zoe and new friends haven enrolled atCamp Claw to learn all the skills they need to become protectors of the new world. But when the camp is mysteriously attacked and an evil plotexposed, it’s up to the latest recruits to prove they’ve got what it takes to save the day!
Check out the complete Dragon Realm series– Dragon Mountain,Dragon Legend,Dragon City,Dragon RisingandDragon Destiny.And don't missA Dragon Realm Adventure,thespecial World Book Day story!
Praise for DRAGON FORCE: INFINITY'S SECRET:
‘A rip-roaring adventure full of heart.’– Anna James, author of the PAGES & CO. series
‘Bursting with wild imagination and thrilling adventure, Dragon Force is a rip-roaring riot of fun from first page to last.’– Catherine Doyle, author of THE STORM KEEPER’S ISLAND
‘Hugely enjoyable and action-packed, this is an adventure-filled extravaganza that promises the start of another epic dragon series!’ – Aisling Fowler, author of the FIREBORN series
‘A soaring, action-packed adventure for anyone who’s ever dreamed of dragons.’–Pari Thomson, author of GREENWILD
Praise for DRAGON MOUNTAIN:
'Splendidly addictive'– Guardian
'Rollicking, escapist storytelling with a dragon-sized heart' – Kiran Millwood Hargrave, author of THE GIRL OF INK AND STARS
'A soaring, sizzling, fire-breathing gem of an adventure story'–Abi Elphinstone, bestselling author of SKY SONG
'Packed full of fun, heart and imagination, it will make you wish you had your own dragon bond' – Anna James, author of the PAGES & CO. series
'A wonderful warm-hearted and action-packed adventure' – Katherine Woodfine, author of THE SINCLAIR'S MYSTERIES
'Brimming with warmth and originality, DRAGON MOUNTAIN combines edge-of-your-seat adventure, laugh-out-loud humour andhugelyexciting dragons to create a sweeping fantasy that will captivate readers of all ages.’ – Catherine Doyle, author of THE STORM KEEPER’S ISLAND
'DRAGON MOUNTAIN has all of my favourite things! A rich mythology and a tale of friendship, snarky dragons and daring deeds...this is the kind of breathless tale that leaves you hungry for the next instalment' –Roshani Chokshi,author of the ARU SHAH series
‘DRAGON MOUNTAINis a joy to read – adventurous and enchanting, with a heart of gold. It will make you re-live the moment you first looked at the sky and longed to see a dragon looking back’–Samantha Shannon,authorof THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE and THE BONE SEASON series]]>
WHEN DANGER CALLS, THE DRAGON FORCE ANSWER...
It’s a dream come true for Lance Lo and his sister Zoe to be at Camp Claw, training for the elite Dragon Force to help protect the world.
But with the core members captured by the evil Devourer, they soon find themselves taking on their most dangerous mission yet. Can they rescue the rest of the team from a creature who will do anything to feed his appetite for magic. . . ?
Praise for DRAGON MOUNTAIN:
'Splendidly addictive'–Guardian
'Rollicking, escapist storytelling with a dragon-sized heart' –Kiran Millwood Hargrave, author of THE GIRL OF INK AND STARS
'A soaring, sizzling, fire-breathing gem of an adventure story'–Abi Elphinstone, bestselling author of SKY SONG
'Packed full of fun, heart and imagination, it will make you wish you had your own dragon bond' –Anna James, author of the PAGES & CO. series
'A wonderful warm-hearted and action-packed adventure' –Katherine Woodfine, author of THE SINCLAIR'S MYSTERIES
'Brimming with warmth and originality, DRAGON MOUNTAIN combines edge-of-your-seat adventure, laugh-out-loud humour andhugelyexciting dragons to create a sweeping fantasy that will captivate readers of all ages.’–Catherine Doyle, author of THE STORM KEEPER’S ISLAND
'DRAGON MOUNTAIN has all of my favourite things! A rich mythology and a tale of friendship, snarky dragons and daring deeds...this is the kind of breathless tale that leaves you hungry for the next instalment'–Roshani Chokshi,author of the ARU SHAH series
‘DRAGON MOUNTAINis a joy to read – adventurous and enchanting, with a heart of gold. It will make you re-live the moment you first looked at the sky and longed to see a dragon looking back’–Samantha Shannon,authorof THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE and THE BONE SEASON series]]>
Milly’s writing highlights the importance of community spirit and the magic of kindness. Her books inspire and uplift but she packs a punch and never shies away from the hard realities of lifeand the complexities of relationshipsin her stories. Her books champion women, their strength and resilience, and celebrate love, friendship and the possibility and joy of second chances and renaissances. She writes stories about ordinary women and the extraordinary things that happen in their ordinary lives. ]]>
'Gloriously funny, witty, wise and wonderful, this book is a total joy!’Alexandra Potter
‘A delicious warm hug of a book’ Jill Mansell
‘Guaranteed to put a spring in your step – I loved it’Jo Thomas
'Gorgeous, heartwarming and moving, The Happiest Ever After is so original and brilliantly written in the typically funny and clever Johnson style'Lucy Vine
'An escapist, uplifting read full of heart' Libby Page
‘Funny and brilliant and gorgeously warm, Milly Johnson always, always delivers’ Paige Toon
'Takes you on a classic transformative journey in the most wonderful and original way. What a joy!' Julietta Henderson
Polly Potter is surviving, not thriving. She used to love her job – until her mentor died and her new boss decided to make her life hell. She used to love her partner Chris – until he cheated on her, and now she can’t forget. The only place where her life is working is on the pages of the novel she is writing – there she can create a feistier, bolder, more successful version of herself – as the fictional Sabrina Anderson.
But what if it was possible to start over again? To leave everything behind, forget all that went before, and live the life you’d always dreamed of?
After a set of unforeseen circ*mstances, Polly ends up believing she really IS Sabrina, living at the heart of a noisy Italian family restaurant by the sea. Run by Teddy, the son of her new landlady Marielle, it’s a much-loved place, facing threat of closure as a rival restaurant moves in next door. Sabrina can’t remember her life as Polly, but she knows she is living a different life from the one she used to have.
But what if this new life could belong to her after all?
‘Reading a Milly Johnson book is like spending time with a best friend – you always end up feeling better about the world. Written with genuine warmth and heart, they’re an absolute treat’ Lucy Diamond
‘Milly Johnson always delivers an absolutely cracking read’ Katie Fforde
‘One of those novels that draws you in to its world and makes you wish you could be friends with Shay. A tantalising juicy tale full of twists and turns that kept me gripped. Warm, funny and moving. One to curl up with and devour’ Ruth Jones
‘The feeling you get when you read a Milly Johnson book should be bottled and made available on the NHS’ Debbie Johnson
‘Milly’s writing is like getting a big hug with just the right amount of bite underneath’ Jane Fallon]]>
’They say laughter is the best medicine and Milly delivers that in bucket-loads - but beneath the laughter is an empowering story of a woman who gets to write - and live - her own happy ending, and it’s one that will have you cheering from the side-lines. Gloriously funny, witty, wise and wonderful, and with a cracking good story-line that keeps you guessing until the very end, this book is a total joy!’ Alexandra Potter
'Oh, readers, prepare yourselves! My sleeves were wet with happy tears as I finished this gorgeous, heartwarming, moving novel. Milly Johnson has written her best book yet in The Happiest Ever After.The story is so original and brilliantly written in the typically funny and clever Johnson style. Get ready for this to be your new favourite novel - it's now mine' Lucy Vine
'If you're after an escapist, uplifting read full of heart then The Happiest Ever After won't disappoint. This charming novel proves it's never too late to start again - and to find your happiness' Libby Page
'The Happiest Ever After takes you on a classic transformative journey in the most wonderful and original way. From unhappy, unfulfilled and unappreciated, to courageous, confident and completely adored, this life-affirming book shows how far we can go when we become the author of our own happiness. What a joy!'Julietta Henderson
'This is proper, skilled and riveting storytelling, yet it remains accessible, understandable and believable.' MyWeekly
'You can always rely on Milly Johnsonto make you feel good.' theipaper
'Mllly Johnsonworks her magic yet again with this unabashedly heart-warming yet nuanced and related tale of resilience against the odds, the power of the imagination and second chances.' The Lady
'The Happiest Ever After has all Milly Johnson’s trademark understanding of human nature presented with wit and emotion.' My Weekly
'Wonderful' The Sun
'A warm hug of a book.There is much happiness to be found in Milly’s latest big-hearted novel' Woman & Home
'Charming and soul-stirring, this will have you falling in love with its cast of characters.'heat
'Milly Johnson at her warmest, most authentic, best. From the dedication at the start to the acknowledgements at the end, The Happiest Ever After is a true treat of a book and simply not to be missed. I adored it!' My Weekly
'The Queen of comfort reading. If there’s anyone that can make me feel like everything’s going to be okay, it’s Milly Johnson. Her novels are like one warm hug and her latest offering is likely to be no different.' Muddy Stilettos
'A warm, witty and wonderfully woven tale. With its wickedly clever plotting, cast of precision-drawn characters, and Milly Johnson's piercingly authentic insights into human frailty andfoibles, The Happiest Ever After is storytelling magic'' Lancashire Post
'There is much happiness to be found in Milly Johnson’s latest big-hearted and humorous second-chance novel.' Woman's Weekly
'A brilliant, feel-good read.'Fabulous Magazine
'Johnson is the Queen of the Rom Com and her talents show no sign of letting up.This is another page-turning triumph from Johnson. You’ll laugh. You might cry. But above all, you’ll get a happy ending, and that’s a wonderful thing.' lovereading
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This moving poignant story of love and loss reminds us of the comfort our memories can bring when we need it the most.
A beautiful rhyming text from debut author Charissa Coulthard is perfectly paired with exquisite illustrations by Sam Usher.]]>
The small town of Rislake in the picturesque Blue Mountains is about to be engulfed by a major bushfire.
The order has been given for the residents to clear out.
But a last sweep uncovers one person is missing: Tracey Hilmeyer, wife of one of the firefighters tackling the blaze.
Detective Kennard is in town to help with crowd control, but instead he finds himself driving straight towards the inferno to look for Tracey at the Hilmeyer home.
When he gets there, he finds her dead at the bottom of the stairs, and it’s clear she was murdered.
With the evacuation almost complete there is barely enough time to save the living never mind the dead.
But Detective Kennard has something to prove and cannot let this one go.
Can he solve her murder before the crime scene, and the entire town, turns to ash?
'Faster than a raging bushfire, Delargy paints a terrifying portrait of a town under siege, and the traumatized detective tracking down a murderer in its midst. Blistering stuff!' SAM HOLLAND
'With his trademark immersive writing, James Delargy drops you into the Australian bush amid scorching flames, choking soot and your own pounding pulse. A blistering narrative delivered with cool prose – this book is on fire!'JO FURNISS
'Delargy ratchets the tension masterfully . . . Packed with atmosphere and as unpredictable as a bushfire, this is a searingly good thriller'HEATHER CRITCHLOW
'A terrific read, the best yet from a rising star in the world of crime writing'KATE RHODES
'Brilliantly menacing and evocative, the heat is set to high' ELEANOR RAY
'Intense, fierce and with a violence to match the fire itself. I couldn’t put it down, James Delargy writes with a grip on character and plot which will pin you to the page' RACHEL WOLF]]>
‘Beautiful and deeply moving’ J. Courtney Sullivan
‘A story of abiding hope’ Mary Beth Keane
When Annie Brown dies suddenly, her husband, her four young children and her closest friend are left to struggle without the woman who centred their lives. Bill Brown finds himself overwhelmed, and Annie’s best friend Annemarie is lost to old bad habits without Annie’s support. It is Annie’s daughter, Ali, forced to try to care for her younger brothers and even her father, who manages to maintain some semblance of their former lives for them all, and who confronts the complicated truths of adulthood.
Yet over the course of the next year, while Annie looms large in their memories, all three are able to grow, to change, even to become stronger and more sure of themselves. The enduring power Annie gave to those who loved her is the power to love, and to go on without her.
Written in Quindlen’s emotionally resonant voice, and with her deep and generous understanding of people, After Annie is a story that ends with hope, a beautiful novel about how adversity can change us in profound ways.
Praise for Anna Quindlen
‘Leaves the reader feeling grateful, wide awake, lucky to be alive’ Michael Chabon
‘Simply impossible to forget’ Alice Hoffman
‘Qualities and shades ofloveare this writer's strong suit, and she has the unusual talent for writing about them with so muchtruth and heart’Elizabeth Jane Howard
‘Breathtaking... Quindlen writes superbly about families, grief and betrayal. I was completely mesmerised’ Lisa Jewell
‘Engaging, immaculately constructed storytelling’ Guardian
‘One of our most astute chroniclers of modern life’ New York Times Book Review
‘Brave and beautiful’ The Times
‘Her storytelling is exemplary’ Sunday Telegraph
‘With relentless and dazzling brilliance, Quindlen grapples with the lancing pain and the swirls of disorientation experienced by anyone who has loved and lost’ Daily Mail
‘A wise, closely observed, achingly eloquent book’ Huffington Post
‘Overwhelmingly moving’ New York Times]]>
‘A new Anna Quindlen novel is always cause for celebration. After Annie might just be my favourite one yet. It’s a beautiful and deeply moving story about love, loss, friendship, marriage, family and community from one of our wisest chroniclers of modern life. I treasured every page’ J. Courtney Sullivan, author of Friends and Strangers
‘After Annie is a novel about loss – and yet its pages are full of life and heart. With her deft interiority and spot-on depiction of the small moments that bring characters to life, Anna Quindlen tells a family story that’s at once candid and complex – and ultimately quite hopeful’ Claire Lombardo, author of The Most Fun We Ever Had
‘The characters in After Annie are flawed, just as each of us is flawed, and as they fumble through their grief, as they make mistakes, their lives feel so authentically lived-in that I’d swear I’ve known them my whole life. And how I rooted for them! In Anna Quindlen’s hands, a story about the greatest of losses becomes a story of abiding hope above all. I predict this will be one of the best novels of the year’ Mary Beth Keane, author of Ask Again, Yes
‘A master of exploring human frailty and resilience in the face of domestic tragedy, best-selling Quindlen plumbs the depths of Annie’s survivors’ individual and collective grief in scenes that are both subtle and sharp. Exquisite in its sensitivity, breathtaking in its compassion, Quindlen’s exploration of loss and renewal will provoke both weeping and wonder’Booklist
‘A quietly revelatory and gently gleaming gem of a book… The very best thing about this book might be the way Quindlen, an anthropologist of domesticity, catalogues the sparklingly random moments that make up human experience’New York Times Book Review
‘Luminous with life, hope and the power of love’People Magazine]]>
Edwards describes getting his break in the mid 1970s as a scruffy, stoned 20 year old just back from the hippy trail; his encounter with London’s thriving punk scene, which inspired him to set up his own PR company; finding success and broadening his horizons as his work with the likes of Blondie and Bowie takes him to the US and beyond. He brings the reader up to the present day through a series of vivid, funny, always insightful behind the scenes vignettes, whether it’s playing a spontaneous game of football with Bob Marley, listening to Prince discuss the future of civilisation in a nightclub VIP area, or being used as a pawn in the power struggle between Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
Along the way, we’re treated to all the entertaining tales of debauchery and rock-star antics you might expect, but more uniquely we’re privy to Edwards’ fascinating observations about the brilliant artists he has worked with, and what makes them tick. We also get a front-row seat to the rise of PR as a major force in British society, from the seven-figure media deal Edwards brokered for the Beckhams’ wedding, to the role of spin in the New Labour government.
Even as Edwards grows into the consummate PR, playing a crucial background role in the lives and careers of some of the world’s biggest stars, he retains a powerful sense of being an outsider – never forgetting how lucky he is to look back on decades of music and culture and say, ‘I was there’.
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'Poignant . . . quietly affecting' Time
'Emotional and illuminating'BookPage
In 15th century China two women are born under the same sign, the Metal Snake. But life will take the friends on very different paths.
According to Confucius, ‘an educated woman is a worthless woman’, but Tan Yunxian – born into an elite family, yet haunted by death, separation and loneliness – is being raised by her grandparents to be of use. She begins her training in medicine with her grandmother and, as she navigates the male world of medicine, requiring tact and diplomacy, she struggles against the confining world of her class.
From a young age, Yunxian learns about women’s illnesses, many of which relate to childbearing, alongside a young midwife-in-training, Meiling. The two girls find fast friendship and a mutual purpose – despite the prohibition that a doctor should never touch blood while a midwife comes in frequent contact with it – and they vow to be forever friends, sharing in each other’s joys and struggles.No mud, no lotus, they tell themselves: from adversity beauty can bloom.
How might a woman like Yunxian break free of tradition, go on to treat women and girls from every level of society, and lead a life of such importance that many of her remedies are still used five centuries later? How might the power of friendship support or complicate these efforts?Lady Tan’s Circle of Womenis a captivating story of women helping other women. It is also a triumphant reimagining of the life of a woman who was remarkable in the Ming dynasty and would be considered remarkable today.
Praise for Lisa See
'This novel spans wars and generations, but at its heart isa beautifully rendered storyof two women whose individual choices become inextricably tangled’ Jodi Picoult
'No one writes about female friendship, the dark and the light of it, with moreinsightanddepththan Lisa See’ Sue Monk Kidd
'See’sthoughtfulandempatheticbooksheds necessary attention on this largely ignored event' New York Times
'A powerful and essential story of humanity' Los Angeles Review of Books
'A spellbinding portrait of a time burning with opportunity and mystery'O: The Oprah Magazine
'A lush tale infused with clear-eyed compassion' The Washington Post]]>
Introduction
The latest historical novel from New York Times bestselling author Lisa See is inspired by the true story of a woman physician from 15th-century China—and perfect for fans of See’s classic Snowflower and the Secret Fan and The Island of Sea Women.
Lady Tan’s Circle of Women is a captivating story of women helping other women. It is also a triumphant reimagining of the life of a woman who was remarkable in the Ming dynasty and would be considered remarkable today.
Topics and Questions for Discussion
1. The opening of this novel begins with a preface which includes the line “My cousin has excelled at treating women because she has shared in the losses and joys of what it means to be a female on this earth.” How does this set up the novel and what is to come for Yunxian? After reading the novel, what does it mean to be a “female on this earth?”
2. How does the death of Respectful Lady shape Yunxian? What lessons from Respectful Lady does Yunxian carry with her? When Respectful Lady is near her end, she mutters: “To live is to suffer.” How is this a warning for Yunxian early in the novel?
3. Grandfather Tan and Grandmother Ru have very different ideas about childbirth. Who do you agree with, and why? Although 500 years have passed since the time the novel takes place, do you think these contradictory ideas still hold true today – not just for childbirth but for women’s medical care in general?
4. Lisa often writes about friendship: Snow Flower and Lily in Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, Youngsook and Mija in The Island of Sea Women, and now Yunxian and Meiling in Lady Tan’s Circle of Women. These two girls shouldn’t have contact with each other, let alone have a relationship formalized and sanctioned by Grandmother Ru and Midwife Shi. How do Yunxian and Meiling each benefit from the relationship? Are there downsides for each of them? Talk about what friendship means to you. And, since you’re all in a book club—typically a circle of women—share what it means to you.
5. Each character—and Yunxian’s relationship to that person—changes and evolves over time. How does Yunxian come to see and understand the characters of Miss Zhao, Miss Chen, Lady Kuo, Doctor Wong, and her husband and father?
6. The importance of having a son was critical in ancient China. It still is in many countries and cultures around the world. What are the main plotlines in the novel related to this issue? Consider the perspectives of Spinster Aunt, Miss Chen, Doctor Wong, Midwife Shi, Lady Kuo, and Meiling and Yunxian. Were these characters out for his or her own self-interest?
7. Lisa often uses aphorisms to help illuminate a character or a plot point. One of the most significant in this novel is No mud, no lotus. Discuss how this aphorism is important to the story. On page 256, Miss Chen recites a series of aphorisms to Yunxian: It takes a lifetime to make a friend, but you can lose one in an hour. Life without a friend is life without sun. Life without a friend is death. What message is Miss Chen trying to convey to Yunxian? Lisa considers these aphorisms to be true across time and cultures. Do you agree? How have they played out in your life, if at all?
8. A case could be made that Yunxian was a modern woman. What are some of the ways she balances work and family? Do you see yourself in her?
9. The Dragon Boat Festival looms large in Yunxian’s imagination. What does it mean for her—and the other women who reside in the Garden of Fragrant Delights—to finally get to attend?
10. Lisa was inspired to write this novel during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, walking past her bookshelf to find a text she had but hadn’t read in the decade that she owned it. How does time and memory inspire us to examine neglected objects? Have you experienced newfound inspiration or ideas by the objects around your home?
Enhance Your Book Club
1.Host a tea tasting for your book club. Bana Tea Company has put together a package featuring the special tea dried in the mandarin orange that Yunxian serves Lady Kuo on page 166 and the jasmine tea that Meiling and Yunxian share on page 177. Access the custom tasting kits here: www.banateacompany.com/pages/Lisa-See-Tasting-Kit-2023.html
2.Share with your book club the year in the Chinese zodiac in which you were born. What are the characteristics of your birth sign? Do they ring true to you? What other signs are you compatible with, and why? What signs should you avoid?
3.Design your own Ming dynasty outfit. Use this link to find an outline of an outfit along with some symbols and their meanings. You can do this as a group activity with the host providing crayons, colored pencils, felt-tip pens, or even watercolors. Or you can create your outfit at home and bring it to your book club to share. What symbols did you use, and why?
4.Step Inside the World of Lady Tan on Lisa’s website www.LisaSee.com to see photos, videos, and more about the people, places, customs, and traditions that inspired the book.]]>
‘See envelops her story in the accepted practices of the time: arranged marriages, the buying and selling of concubines, the pressure to provide male heirs, and the crippling and sometimes deadly practice of female foot binding. Despite the inordinate limits placed on women, See allows their strengths to dominate their stories, even though not all women were graced with lives of fulfillment.’ Washington Post
‘Spellbinding… vividly depicts 15th-century China with artfully woven details, rich characters and descriptive language. See captures a world of propriety and cruelty as she ruminates on the disparity between the lives of men and women, and how women – no matter their class – are treated as possessions of the men around them. But through her strong-willed characters, See also emphasizes how women can act as the anchors of society… an emotional and illuminating epic.’ BookPage
‘Based on true events, this richly imagined historical novel captures the extraordinary lives of two women in the Ming Dynasty’ Woman’s Own
‘Engaging… Based on the writings of an historical Ming dynasty female physician, See’s accomplished novel immerses readers in a fascinating life lived within a fascinating culture.’ Booklist
‘The lives of women in 15th-century China are illuminated in this engrossing novel… Women’s friendships in a world where they have little freedom shape a quietly moving book.’ Kirkus Reviews
‘An appealing tale of female love and loyalty… See adds intrigue with a side plot involving a mysterious death, along with notable depictions of footbinding and the intricacies of Chinese medicine. See’s fans will find much to enjoy.’ Publishers Weekly
‘The deft ways the story addresses issues of class and power are intriguing… But the heart of this tale is indeed its titular circle of women, who rally around each other in ways both large and small … the quiet ways they make space for and uplift one another is touching and heartfelt.’ Paste magazine
‘See’s novel is a portrayal of female strength, resilience, and intelligence… An intimate and absorbing story that immerses readers in the rich cultural and historical context of Ming Dynasty China, revealing the life of a woman whose legacy extends far beyond her time.’ Medium]]>
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We all want to be happier, but our brains often get in the way. When we’re too stuck in our heads we obsess over our inadequacies, compare ourselves with others and fail to see the good in our lives.
In The Science of Happiness, world-leading psychologist and happiness expert Bruce Hood demonstrates that the key to happiness is not self-care but connection. He presents seven simple but life-changing lessons to break negative thought patterns and re-connect with the things that really matter.
Alter Your Ego
Avoid Isolation
Reject Negative Comparisons
Become More Optimistic
Control Your Attention
Connect With Others
Get Out of Your Own Head
Grounded in decades of studies in neuroscience and developmental psychology, this book tells a radical new story about the roots of wellbeing and the obstacles that lie in our path. With clear, practical takeaways throughout, Professor Hood demonstrates how we can all harness the findings of this science to re-wire our thinking and transform our lives.
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‘Arare bird – a book that is grounded in the best new science, written with wit and wisdom, and provides clear and valuable lessons for living your best life. Highly recommended!’DANIEL GILBERT, author of the New York Times bestseller Stumbling on Happiness
‘A wonderful guide to what actually makes people happier – full of wisdom backed by a wealth of scientific evidence’ROBERT WALDINGER, author of The Good Life: Lessons from the World's Longest Study on Happiness
‘The most erudite, thoughtful, and original take on this important subject I have ever encountered’MICHAEL SHERMER, author of Why People Believe Weird Things]]>
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Patricia Highsmith meetsWhite Lotusin this compulsive and brilliant gothic thriller
‘Clever, emotionally resonant, packed with startling twists and dark turns and very funny indeed, this is fiction roaring on all cylinders.’Guardian
‘Through her bold storytelling, “The Sleepwalkers” becomes a work of peculiar, gonzo genius. … Thomas takes a glamorous late-capitalist setting, with rosé and catamarans, and shreds, twists and warps it into a story that is surprising, humane and political to its bones.’New York Times
‘Thomas tells her story with the craft and cunning of an Aegean sorceress. … [S]he can make metafiction not just smart but fun. Once more she earns her place in a postwar British canon of playfully serious mavericks that runs from Muriel Spark and Brigid Brophy to Nicola Barker and Ali Smith.’Spectator
‘Like a darker, funnier The White Lotus, The Sleepwalkers is horrifying in the best possible way. I loved every moment of it.’ James Smythe
‘The Sleepwalkers is brilliant, savage and hilarious. The voice is so strong and so distinctive from the get-go, so bold and pitilessly funny. There is no whingeinghere, just a fearless takedown which I read through in a single streak of pure delight. This is Scarlett's best yet, and I don't say that lightly.’ Bidisha Mamata
'The Sleepwalkersis never-endingly surprising and full of keen observations on relationships, politics, and art. Thomas makes real life so fraught with meaning, it feels hauntingly supernatural. A twisty Gothic tale of vertiginous depths and haunting power.'Sandra Newman, author of Julia
'This original thriller has plenty of surprises.' Good Housekeeping
'An attractive summer holiday read', Independent
Still reeling from the chaos of their wedding, Evelyn and Richard arrive on an idyllic Greek island for their honeymoon. It’s the end of the season and out at sea a storm is brewing.
They check in to an exclusive hotel, the Villa Rosa, where the proprietor Isabella —a strangely intense woman of indeterminate accent— flirts outrageously with Richard while treating Evelyn with a rudeness bordering on contempt. Isabella tells them the story of 'the sleepwalkers': a couple who stayed at the hotel the year before and drowned in a tragic and unexplained accident. It starts to feel like the entire island is obsessed with 'the sleepwalkers', but what at first seems like a fun tale to tell before bed quickly evolves into a living nightmare.
Caught in a web of deception and intrigue, where nothing and nobody are quite what they seem, Evelyn and Richard discover that their island paradise may in fact be hell on earth and that their only means of escape is to confront dark truths about themselves and those they love.
Exhilarating, suspenseful, and subversively funny, inThe SleepwalkersThomas takes elements on Daphne Du Maurier and Patricia Highsmith and blends them with her own unique sensibility to create an unforgettable thriller of rare intelligence that cements her reputation as the most exciting and original author of her generation.
‘Muriel Spark’s disreputable niece.’Spectator
‘She's a genius.’ Douglas Coupland
‘Thomas has the mesmerising power of a great story teller.’ Financial Times
‘One of the most startling, unpredictable writers of her generation.’Scotsman]]>
‘Nothing short of epic’Rosie Talbot, bestselling author of Sixteen Souls
‘A thrilling fantasy with the most delicious slow-burn romance’ M.A. Kuzniar, bestselling author ofMidnight in Everwood
‘[A] titillating debut’ Publishers Weekly
‘A masterpiece’Goodreads Reader Review
‘Everyone needs to read it’ TikTok Review
‘The BEST book I’ve read’NetGalley Reader Review
‘A sizzling slice of fantasy romance’Booksellers Review
Fourth Wing meets The Hunger Games in this epic and sizzling fantasy romance not to be missed.
Only the extraordinary belong in the kingdom of Ilya . . . The exceptional. The Elites. The Elites have possessed powers for decades, gifted to them by the Plague, while those born Ordinary are just that, banished from the kingdom and shunned from society.
No one knows this better than Paedyn Gray, an Ordinary posing as an Elite. When she unsuspectingly saves one of Ilya’s princes, Kai Azer, she’s thrown into the Purging Trials, a brutal competition to showcase her ‘Elite’powers.
If the Trials and the opponents don’t kill her, the prince she’s fighting feelings for will if he discovers what Paedyn really is . . .completely Ordinary.
Be swept away by the first in the smash hit, dagger-to-the-throatromantasy trilogy taking the world by storm. Containing a special sneak peek of the second instalment, Recklesscoming in July 2024, which is available for pre-order now!
Pre-order Powerful, a heart-racing new story set in the Kingdom of Ilya coming in April 2024. The perfect companion to the Powerless Trilogy.
Follow Lauren Roberts on TikTok and Instagram @LaurenRobertsLibrary]]>
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An eye-opening, no-holds-barred guide to contraception, written by campaigner, journalist and documentary-maker Kate Muir
Everything You Need to Know About the Pill (but were too afraid to ask)is the thinking-woman’s guide to contraception, bringing you answers to all those questions that have been hidden behind a veneer of misplaced shame, bad science and centuries of patriarchy.
- What's happening to my body - and my mind?
- Which method of contraception is best for me?
- Do I really need to take a pill break every three weeks?
- What about men - where's their pill?!
Muir draws on interviews with the leading medical experts in the field, interlaced with her own tumultuous journey with different types of contraception and the personal stories of women from all walks of life, sharing their varied experiences and hard-earned wisdom. Muir also questions why the current medical establishment is getting contraception so wrong, as she debunks the myths and exposes the sloppy science and hysterical headlines that have had a negative impact on women’s health for the last twenty years.
This ground-breaking guide is a social, cultural and scientific exploration into a criminally overlooked and under-discussed part of women's lives. It is a manifesto for change, calling for equality in healthcare and an entirely new - and long overdue - approach to women’s health.
'This book finally allows us to think differently about hormones and contraception. Kate is a genius' - Dr Louise Newson
‘Essential reading for any woman who has ever taken the pill, it’s likely to educate, anger and empower’ -Liz Earle Wellbeing Magazine
]]>She only wants three things. He isn't one of them...
Dumped by her cheating ex, fired from her dream job, about to lose her flat: Clementine Monroe is not having a good day. So when her sisters get her drunk and suggest reviving a childhood ritual called the breakup spell, she doesn’t see the harm in it.
But now Clemmie has accidentally ruined a funeral, had her first one-night stand, and she’s stuck with a new job she definitely doesn’t want - spending six weeks alone with the gorgeous and very-off-limits rock star, Theo Eliott.
He’s the most famous man on the planet. Her life’s a disaster. When it comes to love, Clemmie is learning you should be careful what you wish for...
‘I have read a ton of contemporary romantic fiction and this one stands out from the crowd.’
‘Fresh and original in the way that Emily Henry and Beth O' Leary books are… but it has something else that makes it different.’
‘Wonderful and gorgeous, I cannot recommend it enough.’
‘This might just be my perfect book’
‘I binged it all in 24 hours’
‘It has EVERYTHING I could ask for in a romantic comedy’
‘Funny, heartwarming and downright sexy’
‘A truly dreamy read that I would recommend to anyone who loves Beth O'Leary, Sarra Manning, Mhairi McFarlane or Emily Henry’
‘Pure joy from beginning to end.’
]]>
'Under Your Spell cast a spell on me! This is a note-perfect romcom featuring a heroine to root for, a hero to swoon over and a sexy, tender and funny story that I never wanted to end. Fans of Emily Henry and Mhairi McFarlane will adore Under Your Spell and I can't wait for whatever Laura Wood writes next' -Sarra Manning
'Sweet, sexy and swoonsome, Laura's smart funny voice and magical blend of escapism and relatability makes for the ideal summer read' - Lindsey Kelk
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Camp counsellor Cory Ansel, eighteen and aimless, afraid to face her high-strung single mother in New York, is no longer sure where home is when the father of one of her campers offers an alternative.
The CEO of a Fortune 500 pharmaceutical company, Rolo Picazo is middle-aged, divorced, magnetic. He is also intoxicated by Cory. When Rolo proffers a childcare job (and an NDA), Cory quiets an internal warning and allows herself to be ferried to his private island off the coast of Maine. Plied with luxury and opiates manufactured by his company, she continues to tell herself she’s in charge. Her mother, Emer, head of a teetering agricultural NGO, senses otherwise. When her daughter seemingly disappears, Emer crosses land and sea to heed a cry for help she alone is convinced she hears.
Alternating between the two women’s perspectives, Fruit of the Dead incorporates its mythic inspiration with a light touch and devastating precision. The result is a lush and haunting story that explores love, attraction, control, obliteration and America’s own late capitalist mythos.
Advance praise for Fruit of the Dead
'A gripping literary thriller, Fruit of the Dead presents a coming-of-age tale that is so well-observed and intoxicating that the reader will lose track of time, but won't forget how they spent it. Egan and Cline fans: assemble.' Caoilinn Hughes, author of The Wild Laughter
‘Ancient Greece meets Succession by way of Emma Cline, Fruit of the Dead is a deliciously dark examination of agency and power, and the savage complexity of the mother-daughter bond.’Ruth Gilligan, author of The Butchers
‘Mesmerised and profoundly alarmed, I read this in one go; I’ve been haunted by it ever since. I’ve passionately loved Lyon’s writing for years, andFruit of the Deadfurther confirms what I’ve long suspected: I want to lunge to read anything she writes.’ R. O. Kwon, author ofThe Incendiaries
‘Irresistible and devastating. Lyon has spun an utterly absorbing, lush and terror-laced retelling of an ancient, archetypal tale – a young woman tempted and taken, a mother’s feral grief – that is both timeless and crisply contemporary.'Melissa Febos,author ofGirlhood]]>
‘Nothing short of epic’Rosie Talbot, bestselling author ofSixteen Souls
'A thrilling fantasy with the most delicious slow-burn romance' M.A. Kuzniar, bestselling author ofMidnight in Everwood
‘A masterpiece’Goodreads Reader Review
‘Everyone needs to read it’TikTok Review
‘The BEST book I’ve read’NetGalley Reader Review
‘A sizzling slice of fantasy romance’Booksellers Review
‘Incredible and impressive’Goodreads ReaderReader
‘A riveting fantasy debut’Bookseller Review
‘This destroyed me... In a good way!’Bookseller Review
With more than 35 million views on TikTok, the second heart-racing instalment in this bestselling and sizzling fantasy romance trilogy.Perfect for fans of Fourth Wing and The Hunger Games.
The kingdom of Ilya is in turmoil…
After surviving the Purging Trials, Ordinary-born Paedyn Gray has killed the King, and kickstarted a Resistance throughout the land. Now she’s running from the one person she had wanted to run to.
Kai Azer is now Ilya’s Enforcer, loyal to his brother Kitt, the new King. He has vowed to find Paedyn and bring her to justice.
Across the deadly Scorches, and deep into the hostile city of Dor, Kai pursues the one person he wishes he didn’t have to. But in a city without Elites, the balance between the hunter and hunted shifts – and the battle between duty and desire is deadly.
Be swept away by this bestselling,dagger-to-the-throat romantasy trilogy taking the world by storm.
Powerless available now.
Powerful, the not-to-be-missed story set in the world of Powerless coming April 2024. Pre-order now.
Follow Lauren Roberts on TikTok and Instagram @LaurenRobertsLibrary.
]]>Do No Harm was described as ‘chilling’ by Sarah Pearse, ‘brilliant’ by Lesley Kara and ‘pulse-racing’ by Louise Candlish. It was an instant Times bestseller on first publication and a Waterstones Thriller of the Month pick.
To find out more, follow Jack on Twitter, Instagram and TikTok:
@JackJordanBooks
@jackjordan_author
@jackjordan_author]]>
THE LATEST PULSE-POUNDING THRILLER FROM THE MASTER OF THE MORAL DILEMMA AND SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER, JACK JORDAN.
Aaron Alexander has just been released fromjailafter serving eleven yearsforcausing the death of Joshua Moore in a hit-and-run. Now a free man, all he wants to do is stay on the straight and narrow and leave his troubled past behind him.
But forJoshua’s mother Evelyn, eleven years in jail isn’t nearly enough. Consumed by grief and rage, she has been waiting for Aaron’s release, counting down the days until she can exact the revenge he deserves. And now that time has come.
But as Evelyn and her husband Tobias embark on a road trip to track Aaron down, they find themselves caught on two different sides of a gripping game of cat-and-mouse. Because Tobias knows what Evelyn is planning, and he willdo anything to save her from herself.
Even if it meansprotecting the man who killed their son.
Locked in a collision course set in motion eleven years ago, Aaron, Evelyn and Tobias are about to find out whether the road they have chosen leads to redemption . . . or to retribution.
PRAISE FOR REDEMPTION:
‘A stunning, heartbreaking thrill-ride. Redemption takes a skilful look at love, loss, and the hollow hand of revenge. Powerful and propulsive’CHRIS WHITAKER
‘Stamped with Jack’s trademark moral dilemma . . . it’s as fast as it is beautiful as the book races across sweat-stained America. Simply brilliant’
SAM HOLLAND
‘A novel of relentless and breathless pursuit, whose characters may be villains but who are the most sympathetic. Brilliantly pacy, taut and atmospheric. Jack Jordan goes from strength to strength’L. V. MATTHEWS
‘Redemption has it all – a tricky dilemma, a race against time, a story with a sting in the tale. This novel is one twisty ride and you will not want to get off! Once again, Jack Jordan proves that he’s top of his game’JO FURNISS
‘Another belter from thriller master Jack Jordan. Dark, suspenseful, emotional, powerful and, ultimately, hopeful. Loved this book’ ANNA MAZZOLA
‘Jack Jordan takes his trademark lose-lose moral anguishes to a new level . . .A masterpiece in every sense of the word’GRAHAM BARTLETT
PRAISE FOR JACK JORDAN:
‘When you pick up a book to read the first page and then can’t put it down . . .’SARAH PEARSE
‘Thriller fans will be in heaven’LOUISE CANDLISH
‘Brilliant. Relentlessly tense. This thriller gave me palpitations’ LESLEY KARA
‘Utterly gripping, addictive and brilliantly tense’KAREN HAMILTON
‘Do No Harmhooked me . . . What a terrifying ride!’GILLY MACMILLAN
‘Had me on the edge of my seat . . .Do No Harmis brilliantly thrilling’NADINE MATHESON
‘An edge-of-your-seat, head-spinning thriller with emotion and depth woven through its heart’LAUREN NORTH
‘An astonishingly good read – a fabulous plot, great characters and you’ll be on a knife-edge right up until the brilliant ending!’MY WEEKLY]]>
What does it mean to be a FAN?
If you're a Swiftie, you know that it takes commitment and dedication to be in a fandom. Andthere's nothing more rewarding than sourcing Taylor Swift news and updates, anticipating new music and meeting fellow fans. But fan culture today is more intense than ever, from trolling to stalkers to onlinewarfare.
So how did we get here?
Discover the history of the first fandoms, the many Eras of Taylor Swift, the politics of celebrity and cancel culture, and above all: why being a fan is so special.
Featuring interview with key Taylor Swift fans and celebrity culture icon DeuxMoi and the founder of Swiftogeddon, this book is the ultimate guide on how to be a fan.
PLEASE NOTE: This book has been printed with four different colour designs, lilac, blue, green and pink. We are unable to accept requests for a specific cover. The different covers will be assigned to orders at random.]]>
1. LOVE STORY THE FIRST FANS
2. GIRL AT HOME WHAT IS A FAN?
3. MISS AMERICANA WHO’S TAYLOR SWIFT, ANYWAY?
4. THE 1 HOW TAYLOR SWIFT BUILT AN EMPIRE
AN INTERVIEW WITH . . . SWIFTAGEDDON
5. FEARLESS (TAYLOR’S VERSION) HOW RECLAIMING HER MASTERS EMPOWERED A FANBASE
6. ONLY THE YOUNG WHY DON’T WE CARE ABOUT TEENAGERS?
7. ALL TOO WELL WHAT ARE PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS?
8. I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME STALKERS
9. BAD BLOOD TROLLS, TATTLE AND TMZ
10. THE LAST GREAT AMERICAN DYNASTY FROM PEREZ TO PODCASTS, BLIND ITEMS AND BOOK CLUBS
AN INTERVIEW WITH . . . DEUXMOI
11. THIS IS ME TRYING THE POLITICS OF TAYLOR SWIFT
12. I DID SOMETHING BAD HOLDING CELEBRITIES ACCOUNTABLE, AND CELEBRITY ANTI-HEROS
AN INTERVIEW WITH . . . HOLLY BOURNE
13. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID OBSCURE FANDOMS AND SECRET SHIPS
14. CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT GAYLOR
15. THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS MATTY HEALY AND THE TAYLOR SWIFT UNION
16. YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN FAN HIERARCHY
AN INTERVIEW WITH . . . STEVEN SULLIVAN (@STEVENSULLY1, TIKTOK)
17. STYLE THE UNPROBLEMATIC FANBASE OF HARRY STYLES
18. THE BEST DAY THE ERAS TOUR: WHEN FANDOM TAKES OVER THE INTERNET
19. BLANK SPACE THE FUTURE OF FANDOM
20. DEAR READER EPILOGUE]]>
SECRETS FROM THE PAST, UNRAVELLING IN THE PRESENT…
The night before it all begins, Jude has the dream again . . .
Can dreams be passed down through families? As a child Jude suffered a recurrent nightmare: running through a dark forest, crying for her mother. Now her six-year-old niece, Summer, is having the same dream, and Jude is frightened for her.
A successful auctioneer, Jude is struggling to come to terms with the death of her husband. When she's asked to value a collection of scientific instruments and manuscripts belonging to Anthony Wickham, a lonely 18th century astronomer, she leaps at the chance to escape London for the untamed beauty of Norfolk, where she grew up.
As Jude untangles Wickham's tragic story, she discovers threatening links to the present. What have Summer's nightmares to do with Starbrough folly, the eerie crumbling tower in the forest from which Wickham and his adopted daughter Esther once viewed the night sky? With the help of Euan, a local naturalist, Jude searches for answers in the wild, haunting splendour of the Norfolk woods.
Dare she leave behind the sadness in her own life, and learn to love again?
Praise for Rachel Hore's novels:
‘A tour de force. Rachel's Paris is rich, romantic, exotic and mysterious’ JUDY FINNIGAN
‘An elegiac tale of wartime love and secrets’ Telegraph
‘A richly emotional story, suspenseful and romantic, but unflinching in its portrayal of the dreadful reality and legacy of war’ Book of the Week, Sunday Mirror
'Pitched perfectly for a holiday read' Guardian
'Engrossing, pleasantly surprising and throughly readable' SANTA MONTEFIORE
'A beautifully written and magical novel about life, love and family' CATHY KELLY]]>
‘A tour de force. Rachel's Paris is rich, romantic, exotic and mysterious’ JUDY FINNIGAN
‘An elegiac tale of wartime love and secrets’ Telegraph
‘A richly emotional story, suspenseful and romantic, but unflinching in its portrayal of the dreadful reality and legacy of war’ Book of the Week, Sunday Mirror
'Pitched perfectly for a holiday read' Guardian
'Engrossing, pleasantly surprising and throughly readable' SANTA MONTEFIORE
'A beautifully written and magical novel about life, love and family' CATHY KELLY]]>
Adena and Paedyn have always been inseparable. Fate brought them together when they were young, but friendship ensured they’d always protect each other and the home they built in the slums of Loot. But now Paedyn – an Ordinary – has been selected for The Purging Trials, which means almost certain death.
Now alone in Loot, Adena must fend for herself. After attempting to steal, it’s a mysterious man from the market who comes to her rescue. Mak’s shadowy past and secretive power set him apart from the other low-level Elites of Loot. And as the pair team up to see their loved ones before the Trials begin, the quest tests their loyalty, their love, and their lives…
Follow Lauren Roberts on TikTok and Instagram @LaurenRobertsLibrary
RETURN TO ILYA WITH THIS UNMISSABLE COMPANION TO THE #1 INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING POWERLESS TRILOGY.
Powerless available to buy now.
Reckless, the heart-racing sequel coming July 2024. Available for pre-order now.
Praise for Powerless:
‘Nothing short of epic’ Rosie Talbot, bestselling author of Sixteen Souls
‘A thrilling fantasy with the most delicious slow-burn romance’ M.A. Kuzniar, bestselling author of Midnight in Everwood
‘[A] titillating debut’ Publishers Weekly
‘A masterpiece’ Goodreads Reader Review
‘Everyone needs to read it’ TikTok Review
‘The BEST book I’ve read’ NetGalley Reader Review
‘A sizzling slice of fantasy romance’ Booksellers Review]]>
'Unputdownable and unforgettable. Peyton Corinne effortlessly weaves together raw, emotional moments with scenes that feel like a warm embrace through dynamic characters that will leave an indelible imprint long after you turn the final page' Bal Khabra, author of Collide
Rhys is desperate to feel anything.
Sadie wants to stop feeling so much.
Rhys Koteskiy is back—at least, he’s supposed to be. During last year’s Frozen Four, the Waterfell University hockey captain and NHL legacy took a brutal hit that left him with a concussion and a new discomfort on the ice. Plagued by nightmares and panic attacks every time he attempts to skate, Rhys wonders if he’ll ever play again—or if he’ll ever want to.
Sadie Brown is staying focused this semester—no matter what. Currently drowning in debt, custody hearings for her younger brothers, and skating practices, she’s just trying to make it to the next day. A spitfire figure skater known for her bad attitude and frequent disappearing acts, Sadie has a reputation on campus. And it’s not a pretty one.
When she accidentally witnesses one of the golden boy hockey captain’s panic attacks and attempts to help him, a strange sort of understanding strikes up between them. No questions asked. Just comfort. But Rhys finds himself drawn to Sadie. Where he feels empty, a shell of the man and player he was before, Sadie is so full of everything, it bursts from her; every emotion she feels seems like it’s blasted at max volume. Rhys is desperate to feel anything. Sadie wants to stop feeling so much. But healing doesn’t mix with secrets, and they’re both skating on thin ice.]]>
For over a hundred years until it closed in 1981, Henry Tate’s flagship sugar refinery at Love Lane dominated the Liverpool skyline – and was the beating heart of the local community. More than 10,000 workers passed through the doors of the factory during its lifetime, with some families counting four or even five generations of service.Young women leaving school in the post-war years were drawn by the good wages and the unrivalled social life that Tate & Lyle offered.
When they arrived, they started at the very bottom, sweeping sugar off the floors, before graduating to packing and weighing by hand. The work was tough, with girls expected to stack heavy bags of sugar onto pallets five feet high, and by the end of the day their arms were aching and their stockings full of sugar dust.But, despite the hot, heavy work, they found their own ways of having fun, and the friendships they formed would last a lifetime.As well as the female friendships, many women met their future husbands at the factory, and expected their own children to follow in their footsteps.
Barrett and Calvi's social history of the post-war era casts a warm and nostalgic look back at one of the most iconic factories in the north, bringing back a vanished era of hard work, community spirit and simple pleasures.
]]>
Most folk thought Sallie Kincaid was a nobody who’d amount to nothing. Sallie had other plans.
Sallie Kincaid is the daughter of the biggest man in a small town, the charismatic Duke Kincaid. Born at the turn of the twentieth century into a life of comfort and privilege, Sallie remembers little about her mother, who died in a violent argument with the Duke. By the time she is just eight years old, the Duke has remarried and had a son, Eddie. While Sallie is the Duke's daughter, sharp-witted and resourceful, Eddie is his mother’s son, timid and cerebral. When Sallie tries to teach young Eddie to be more like their father, her daredevil coaching leads to an accident, and Sallie is cast out.
Nine years later, she returns, determined to reclaim her place in the family. That’s a lot more complicated than Sallie expected, and she enters a world of conflict and lawlessness. Sallie confronts the secrets and scandals that hide in the shadows of the Big House, navigates the factions in the family and town, and finally comes into her own as a bold, sometimes reckless bootlegger.
'Jeannette Walls created my new favorite hero in her protagonist, Sallie Kincaid. Sallie is sharp, bold, unflinching, and humorous despite, or maybe because of, her hardships.' —Jennette McCurdy, bestselling author ofI’m Glad My Mom Died
'Hang the Moon is Jeannette Walls's masterwork. Epic in scope, the novel is a thrill ride through Prohibition and change in the American South . . . The prose is so elegant and so close to the bone you feel Sallie's heartbeat. Glorious.' ―Adriana Trigiani, author of The Good Left Undone
'Does what all good books should: it affirms our faith in the human spirit.'
―Dani Shapiro on The Glass Castle'Like J.D. Salinger or Hemingway before her, Jeannette Walls has the talent of knowing exactly how to let a story tell itself.'
―Sunday IndependentonThe Glass Castle]]>Dr Matt Morgan is a British intensive care doctor. His open letter addressed to patients during the 2020 COVID pandemic has been read by over half a million people worldwide and viewed by over two million times after featuring on the Channel 4 news.
His articles have featured in the Guardian, the Telegraph, the Daily Mail, the Sunday Mirror and Huffington Post. A regular writer for the internationally acclaimed British Medical Journal, his article 'A letter from the ICU'is one of their most popular ever opinion article, read by over 130,000 people in 2020.
His first book,Critical,has been translated into four languages. He lives in Australia with his family, enjoys CrossFit, photography, cold beer and even colder ice cream.
]]>For animal science has so much to teach us about human medicine. While some of the overlaps and parallels are obvious – we know how much DNA we share with primates, the first pig heart has been transplanted into a human – there is so much more that we have learnt from the animal world. For example, studying kangaroos, in particular the female’s three vagin*s, has improved in-vitro fertilisation success rates. Watching how a giraffe breathes can help save the life of someone struggling with asthma. Investigating why birds that live in the frozen Arctic circle don’t freeze to death led to advances with treating hypothermia. Getting a ECG on the 150kg heart of a humpback whale was instrumental to keeping patients with cardiac failure living longer.
We owe animals so much, it’s time to focus on examining how they live and what we still have to learn from them. Better shared understanding of how our species coexists with millions of others can lead to untold medical advances, help both humans and animals and improve the world for all creatures from single-celled bacteria to a 30,000 kg whale. Who knows, maybe a kiss from a frog will save your life?]]>
'Gripping and important' Observer
__________________________________________________________________________
Nine days that set the course of a nation...
Johannesburg, Easter weekend, 1993. Nelson Mandela has been free for three years and is in slow-moving power-sharing talks with President FW de Klerk when a white supremacist shoots Mandela’s popular young heir apparent, Chris Hani, in the hope of igniting an all-out civil war. Will he succeed in plunging South Africa into chaos, safeguarding apartheid for perhaps years to come? Or can Mandela and de Klerk overcome their differences and mutual suspicion and calm their followers, plotting a way forward?
In The Plot to Save South Africa, acclaimed South African journalist Justice Malala recounts the riveting story of the next nine days – never before told in full – revealing rarely seen sides of both Mandela and de Klerk, the fascinating behind-the-scenes debates within each of their parties over whether to pursue peace or war, and their increasingly desperate attempts to restrain their supporters despite mounting popular frustrations.
Flitting between the points of view of over a dozen characters on all sides of the conflict, Justice Malala offers an illuminating look at successful leadership in action… and a terrifying reminder of just how close a country we think of today as a model for racial reconciliation came to civil war.
__________________________________________________________________________
‘A dramatic work of history, prodigiously reported and beautifully crafted. Justice Malala is a first-rate storyteller, deftly weaving history with a narrative that reads like a novel. I couldn’t put it down’ Jonathan Eig, New York Times bestselling author of Ali: A Life
‘Magnificent, furious and unputdownable’Andrew Harding, BBC Africa correspondent and author of These Are Not Gentle People]]>
For many centuries, a local tradition has told of a mystic living in a hermit’s cave just outside the village. Legend tells that she has hidden her prophecies around the area, but none have ever been found. When a visiting academic arrives in Ambridge, there for war work, but personally intrigued by the prophecies, he becomes determined to find out more.
And as the prophesies are uncovered, it appears the mystic knows more than anyone could have predicted – and when they become personal and foretell the death of a local Ambridgian, the village is united in surprise.
Meanwhile, the war will end and some will come home – and some never will. And those who do will find that life in Ambridge has been changed….
]]>
As a professor at Yale, William Deresiewicz saw something that troubled him deeply. His students, some of the nation’s brightest minds, were adrift when it came to the big questions: how to think critically and creatively and how to find a sense of purpose. Now he argues that elite colleges are turning out conformists without a compass.
Excellent Sheep takes a sharp look at the high-pressure conveyor belt that begins with parents and counselors who demand perfect grades and culminates in the skewed applications Deresiewicz saw firsthand as a member of Yale’s admissions committee. As schools shift focus from the humanities to “practical” subjects like economics, students are losing the ability to think independently. It is essential, says Deresiewicz, that college be a time for self-discovery when students can establish their own values and measures of success in order to forge their own paths. He features quotes from real students and graduates he has corresponded with over the years, candidly exposing where the system is broken and offering clear solutions on how to fix it.
“Excellent Sheep is likely to make…a lasting mark….He takes aim at just about the entirety of upper-middle-class life in America….Mr. Deresiewicz’s book is packed full of what he wants more of in American life: passionate weirdness” (The New York Times).]]>
Introduction
This book, in many ways, is a letter to my twenty-year-old self. It talks about the kinds of things I wish that someone had encouraged me to think about when I was going to college—such as what the point of college might be in the first place.
I was like so many kids today (and so many kids back then). I went off to college like a sleepwalker, like a zombie. College was a blank. College was the “next thing.” You went to college, you studied something, and afterward you went on to the next next thing, most probably some kind of graduate school. Up ahead were vaguely understood objectives: status, wealth, getting to the top—in a word, “success.” As for where you went to school, that was all about bragging rights, so of course you chose the most prestigious place that let you in. What it meant to actually get an education, and why you might want one—how it could help you acquire a self, or develop an independent mind, or find your way in the world—all this was off the table. Like kids today, I was processed through a system everyone around me simply took for granted.
I started college in 1981. The system, then, was in its early days, but it was already, unmistakably, a system, a set of tightly interlocking parts. When I speak in this book of elite education, I mean prestigious institutions like Harvard or Stanford or Williams as well as the larger universe of second-tier selective schools, but I also mean everything that leads up to and away from them: the private and affluent public high schools; the ever-growing industry of tutors and consultants, test-prep courses and enrichment programs; the admissions process itself, squatting like a dragon at the entrance to adulthood; the brand-name graduate schools and employment opportunities that come after the BA; and the parents and communities, largely upper middle class, who push their children into the maw of this machine. In short, our entire system of elite education.
What that system does to kids and how they can escape from it, what it does to our society and how we can dismantle it—those are the subjects of this book. I was teaching a class at Yale on the literature of friendship. One day we got around to talking about the importance of being alone. The ability to engage in introspection, I suggested, is the essential precondition for living the life of the mind, and the essential precondition for introspection is solitude. My students took this in for a second—introspection, solitude, the life of the mind, things they probably had not been asked to think about before—then one of them said, with a dawning sense of self-awareness, “So are you saying that we’re all just, like, really excellent sheep?”
All? Surely not. But after twenty-four years in the Ivy League—college at Columbia; a PhD at the same institution, including five years as a graduate instructor; and ten years, altogether, on the faculty at Yale—that was more or less how I had come to feel about it. The system manufactures students who are smart and talented and driven, yes, but also anxious, timid, and lost, with little intellectual curiosity and a stunted sense of purpose: trapped in a bubble of privilege, heading meekly in the same direction, great at what they’re doing but with no idea why they’re doing it. In 2008, on my way out the door, I published an essay that sketched out a few of these criticisms. Titled “The Disadvantages of an Elite Education,” the article appeared in the American Scholar, a small literary quarterly. At best, I thought, it might get a few thousand readers.
Instead, it started to go viral almost from the moment it came out. Within a few weeks, the piece had been viewed a hundred thousand times (with many times that number in the months and years to come). Apparently I’d touched a nerve. These were not just the grumblings of an ex-professor. As it turned out from the many emails I began to get, the vast majority from current students and recent graduates, I had evoked a widespread discontent among today’s young high achievers—a sense that the system was cheating them out of a meaningful education, instilling them with values they rejected but couldn’t somehow get beyond, and failing to equip them to construct their futures.
Since then I have spoken with students on campuses across the country, corresponded with many others, answered these young people’s questions and asked my own, and heard and read their stories. It has been an education in itself, and this book is a reflection of that ongoing dialogue. Where possible, I’ve used their words to help me talk about the issues we’ve discussed, but every page has been informed by my sense of what these kinds of students need and want to think about. A lot of books get published about higher education, but none, as far as I can tell, are speaking to students themselves—still less, listening to them.
I begin the book by discussing the system itself—one that, to put it in a nutshell, forces you to choose between learning and success. Education is the way that a society articulates its values: the way that it transmits its values. While I’m often critical of the sort of kids who populate selective schools, my real critique is aimed at the adults who’ve made them who they are—that is to say, at the rest of us. Part 2 begins to explain what students can do, as individuals, to rescue themselves from the system: what college should be for, how to find a different kind of path in life, what it means to be a genuine leader. Part 3 extends the argument, talking in detail about the purpose of a liberal arts education, the value of the humanities, and the need for dedicated teachers and small classrooms. My aim is not to tell young people where to go to school so much as why.
Part 4 returns to the larger social question. The system is charged with producing our leadership class, the so-called meritocracy—the people who run our institutions, governments, and corporations. So how has that been going? Not, it’s clear by now, too well. What we’re doing to our kids we’re ultimately doing to ourselves. The time has long since passed, I argue, to rethink, reform, and reverse the entire project of elite education.
A word on what I mean when I speak of the elite. I don’t intend the term as it is often now deployed, as a slur against liberals, intellectuals, or anyone who disagrees with Bill O’Reilly, but simply as a name for those who occupy the upper echelons of our society: conservatives as well as liberals, businesspeople as well as professionals, the upper and the upper middle classes both—the managers, the winners, the whole cohort of people who went to selective colleges and are running society for their own exclusive benefit. This book is also, implicitly, a portrait of that class, whose time to leave the stage of history has now so evidently come.]]>
Ben Franklin lingers in our lives and in our imaginations. One of only two non-presidents to appear on US currency, Franklin was a founder, statesman, scientist, inventor, diplomat, publisher, humorist, and philosopher. He believed in the American experiment, but Ben Franklin’s greatest experiment was…Ben Franklin. In that spirit of betterment, Eric Weiner embarks on an ambitious quest to live the way Ben lived.
Not a conventional biography, Ben & Me is a guide to living and thinking well, as Ben Franklin did. It is also about curiosity, diligence, and, most of all, the elusive goal of self-improvement. As Weiner follows Franklin from Philadelphia to Paris, Boston to London, he attempts to uncover Ben’s life lessons, large and small. We learn how to improve a relationship with someone by inducing them to do a favor for you—a psychological phenomenon now known as The Ben Franklin Effect. We learn about the printing press (the Internet of its day), early medicine, diplomatic intrigue and, of course, electricity. And we learn about ethics, persuasion, humor, regret, appetite, and so much more.
At a time when history is either neglected or contested, Weiner argues we have much to learn from the past and that we’d all be better off if we acted and thought a bit more like Ben did, even if he didn’t always live up to his own high ideals. Engaging, smart, moving, quirky, Ben & Me distills the essence of Franklin’s ideas into grounded, practical wisdom for all of us.]]>
“Part travelogue, part soul-searching memoir and part intellectual matchmaker, [The Socrates Express] packs an extraordinary amount into 287 pages of text. Erudite, funny and frequently self-deprecating, Weiner serves as your interpreter and guide along the way. Bursting with amusing trivia, insights and cultural references, he is on a quest to make even Schopenhauer relatable. . . . It is entirely possible to read this book just for pleasure, but it is so much more. . . .Each chapter is like a chocolate truffle — tasty and dense. . . . Space them out and savor the ideas to see which ones suit you.”—The Washington Post
"Eric Weiner'sThe Socrates Expressrekindled my love for philosophy. A smart, funny, engaging book full of valuable lessons,The Socrates Expressis not an explanation—it's an invitation to think and experience philosophy filtered through Weiner's words. . . .The structure of this book is brilliant. . . . An engaging read . . . With plenty of humor and straightforward prose [Weiner] engages with deep thought and encourages us to focus on questions instead of answers. . . . A fun, sharp book that draws readers in with its apparent simplicity and bubble-gum philosophy approach and gradually pulls them in deeper and deeper until they're contemplating desire, loneliness, aging, and death."—NPR
“Delightful . . . There are so many reasons to love this book . . . .If you are planning summer travel or a staycation, this book will take you places intellectually and humorously.”—San Francisco Book Review
"With signature clarity and humor, [Eric Weiner] picks up whereThe Good Placeleft off. In a rare philosophy book that’s a delight to read, he illuminates what deep thinkers through history have known about a life well lived."—Adam Grant, bestselling author ofOriginals
“A delightfully entertaining, practical guide to navigating life . . . Weiner crafts a seamless, engaging study of condensed knowledge crafted in graceful prose.”—New York Journal of Books
"[Weiner's] writing is fresh and even revelatory as he pulls together seemingly disparate notions and asks meaningful (and often unanswered) questions. His tone alternates between informative and insightful to cheeky and challenging. . . . Readers will enjoy Weiner's unique approach and ultimately satisfying conclusions."—Booklist(starred review)
“Such a globe-trotting tour of philosophy can only be as good as its guide, and Weiner proves to be a curious, sincere, and generous companion. His good cheer alone serves as a model for how to live, and many readers will appreciate his method of taking what’s useful for him and leaving what’s not. . . . ‘The world needs more philosophical enthusiasts,’ Weiner writes. This book is sure to generate its share.”—Kirkus Reviews
“A pleasant surprise. Part high-level survey of the central ideas of a diverse group of philosophers, part memoir, part 'how to'book and part travelogue, [The Socrates Express] is an invigorating introduction to some of philosophy’s eminently practical uses. . . . A serious man of ideas . . . refreshingly free of prescriptiveness.” —The Book Reporter
“Weinermakes a convincing and winningly presented case for the practical applications of philosophy to everyday existence in the 21st century. With humor and thoughtfulness, he distills the wisdom of thinkers from throughout history . . . into ways to slow down, ask questions, and pay attention. . . . His book offers an appealing way to cope with the din of modern life and look at the world with attentive eyes and ears.”—Publishers Weekly
“Equal parts vivifying travelogue and Philosophy 101 crash course . . . Weiner’s gift is his lively ability to unearth fresh insights about their ideas that relate to the chaos of the present day.” —Boca Mag
“Weiner offers bubble gum philosophy that provides a quick, sweet taste. . . . Those looking for lite insights will be drawn in gradually from the shallow (getting out of bed and walking) to the deep end (aging and death).” —Library Journal]]>
Gender is now a global conversation, and one that is constantly evolving. More people than ever before are openly living their lives as transgender men or women, and many transgender people are coming out as neither men nor women, instead living outside the binary. Gender is changing, and this change is gaining momentum.
From the differences among gender identity, gender expression, and sex, to the use of gender-neutral pronouns like singular they/them to thinking about your own participation in gender, Gender: Your Guide, 2nd Edition serves as a complete primer to all things gender. Guided by professor and gender diversity advocate Lee Airton, PhD, learn how gender works in everyday life; how to use accurate terminology to refer to transgender, nonbinary, and/or gender nonconforming individuals; and how to ask when you aren’t sure what to do or say. It provides you with the information you need to talk confidently and compassionately about gender diversity, whether simply having a conversation or going to bat as an advocate. In this updated edition, Dr. Airton explores updated definitions of intersex people, conversion therapy bans, transgender students in sports, online and social community discussions, updated pop culture references, and much more.
Just like gender itself, being gender-friendly is a process for all of us. Gender: Your Guide, 2nd Edition invites everyone on board to make gender more flexible and less constricting: a source of more joy, and less harm, for everyone.]]>
Did you know that begonias can be dug up in the fall, stored indoors in the winter, and be ready to be planted and bloom again in the spring? That daylilies need to be divided every three to four years to produce more blooms? Or that marigolds can be both a beautiful and helpful addition to a vegetable garden as a natural deterrent to common garden pests?
Whether you’re a first-time gardener or an experienced green thumb looking to learn more about flowers, this book is your must-have guide! How to Grow Flowers in Small Spacesfeatures 40 beautiful flowers (from smaller pincushion flowers to towering lilacs) that can all be grown in containers or small spaces. Along with detailed care instructions and beautiful illustrations of each plant, you’ll also find everything you need to know for your floral garden to flourish, including:
-How to establish a garden bed (no matter the size!)
-How to determine which flowers are best grown from seeds or from transplants
-How to water your flowers for optimal growth (whether they’re in the ground or in a container)
-How to turn those blooms into a beautiful home-grown bouquet
-And much more!
No more trips to the florist—with How to Grow Flowers in Small Spaces, your home and garden will be bursting with color to keep you healthier and happier than ever. From peonies and marigolds to snapdragons and foxgloves, grab your gloves and get to gardening!]]>
When the temperature soars, what’s better than laying out by the pool with a refreshing Cucumber Margarita? Or toasting friends at a backyard barbecue with a White Wine Peach Sangria? Make the most of what the summer season has to offer with 75 delicious, handpicked co*cktails that will keep you cool all summer long. Recipes include:
-Watermelon-Ginger Mojito
-Tangerine Seabreeze
-Strawberry-Lavender Hard Limeade
-Red Wine Raspberry Sangria
-Banana Piña Colada
-And more!
Presented in an easy-to-use card deck format, this co*cktail companion is as unique as it is delicious. Focusing on fresh, seasonal ingredients this co*cktail deck gives you everything you need to keep your co*cktail game scorching all season long!]]>
“There’s work to be done.” —Rip Wheeler, Season 1, Episode 6, “The Remembering”
The characters of Yellowstone don’t mince words. And that’s just the way fans like it. From John Dutton’s sage advice to Beth’s pointed barbs, the show’s iconic lines and exchanges live on long after each episode ends. There’s Work to Be Done. captures those famous—and infamous—quotes in a collection that’ll brand any Yellowstone fan as a true diehard.
With more than 75 quotes and stills from Seasons 1 through 5, they’ll be able to relive and recite lines such as:
-“You are the trailer park. I am the tornado.” —Beth Dutton, Season 3, Episode 5, “Cowboys and Dreamers”
-“You find out real fast who’s willing to ride for the brand when they learn they gotta wear it.” —John Dutton, Season 5, Episode 8, “A Knife and No Coin”
-“My tomorrows are all yours.” —Rip Wheeler, Season 3, Episode 4, “Going Back to Cali”
-“Gonna go do some cowboy sh*t now.” —Walker, Season 5, Episode 7, “The Dream Is Not Me”
Time to get the work done and ride for the brand with this official Yellowstone quote book.]]>
Queer people are essential members of society—trailblazing for positive change and building up a stronger and more vibrant community every day. It’s time to affirm these truths and so many more with Affirmations for Queer People.
In this book, discover more than 100 affirmations to empower yourself, emphasize your self-worth, care for your mental health and emotional well-being, and so much more. You can use these affirmations and the accompanying texts to reflect on your own life and your future. You’ll find amazing, inclusive artwork throughout that speaks to the beauty, bravery, and diversity of this incredible community.
With Affirmations for Queer People, celebrate being a queer person, affirm your talent and worth, and bring your dreams to fruition.]]>
Investing for the first time can be intimidating. In easy-to-understand language, Stock Market 101, 2nd Edition provides the groundwork needed to begin building knowledge on the stock market. It cuts out the boring explanations of basic investing, and instead provides hands-on lessons that keep you engaged as you learn how to build a portfolio and expand your wealth. Full of basic definitions and real-life examples, Stock Market 101, 2nd Edition alleviates any uneasy or overwhelmed feelings during your first steps toward your investment goals. From bull markets to bear markets to sideways markets, this primer is packed with hundreds of entertaining tidbits and concepts that you won’t be able to get anywhere else.
So whether you’re looking to master the major principles of stock market investing or just want to learn more about how the market shifts over time, Stock Market 101, 2nd Edition has all the answers—even the ones you didn’t know you were looking for.]]>
Is your adventure party tired of the same old boring monsters? Instead of filling your next dungeon with zombies, flip through Düngeonmeister: The Random Monster Generator and create something brand-new.
With each page split into three separate sections (head, torso, and legs), this mix-and-match flip book assembles unique creatures with stats to match each of the beast’s body parts. For instance, GMs can create:
-A zombie head kobold with spider legs giving you an unstoppable undead monstrosity that will chase your party across walls and ceilings
-A monster with a snake head and tentacles for legs making an enemy that’s resistant to piercing damage with a venomous bite
-A dragon that’s more than a dragon when you mix in gelatinous body and a giant’s legs, turning your typical fire-breather into an oversized one that’s resistant to bludgeoning and slashing
Fully compatible with 5E, this book is perfect for DMs looking for something functional and fun to help them fill out dungeons and encounters with interesting and challenging enemies.]]>
Jon Taylor is a professional podcaster from San Diego. He has a degree in English Literature from UC Santa Cruz. He spent several years as a stand-up comic on the East Coast before moving back to Southern California. Jon is the coauthor ofDüngeonmeister,The Düngeonmeister Goblin Quest Coloring Book,The Düngeonmeister Cookbook,Düngeonmeister: The Deck of Many Drinks, andDüngeonmeister: The Random Monster Generator. Jon is also a cocreator and cohost of theSystem Masterypodcast with Jef Aldrich where they review and comment on odd classic RPGs, poking fun at obscure stories and systems while taking the game for a spin.
Sara Richard is an Eisner and Ringo Award–nominated artist from New Hampshire whose work has been printed inVanity Fair,British Vogue, and other publications. Her art is inspired by Art Nouveau, Art Deco, funerary imagery, and the natural world. Her creations tend to skew into the macabre and unknown with a balance of sweetness and sentimentality, honoring the Victorian-era theme of Memento Mori. As a native of New Hampshire, Sara grew up surrounded by trees and plenty of wild mushrooms. When not making art or writing, she’s watching horror movies, cleaning forgotten gravestones with her mom, and collecting possibly haunted curiosities from the 19th century. Her online gallery can be found atSaraRichard.com.]]>
Whether you are working on your dink or fine tuning your lobs, Pickleball: Match Tracker is a logbook made for helping you become the best pickleball player you can be! This progress tracker and logbook allows you to keep notes on your games, recording your successes, goals, and areas you want to work on, along with scores and any other important info. Rate your skills after every game and get a holistic view of your mental game, endurance, teamwork, and more. This is a one-stop shop to chronicle the evolution of your pickleball game.
Guided by Pickleball Hut founder and avid pickleballer, Trey Sizemore, you will also find basic information on the rules of pickleball, a glossary of terms, the history of pickleball, what kinds of equipment you’ll need, and much more! Whether you’re a seasoned pro or just starting, Pickleball: Match Tracker is your secret weapon. Join the pickleball revolution, grab your journal, and let the games begin.]]>
Celebrate your love for It Ends with Us with this beautiful, official journal!
The It Ends with Us Movie Tie-in Journal is the perfect place to keep all your thoughts and feelings as you watch the movie. Featuring art inspired by the movie and a fan-favorite quote on the cover, this journal includes 192 pages of high-quality ruled paper, printed end sheets, an elastic closure, a ribbon placeholder, and tons of space to record your musings.
Perfect for fans of the novel—and its soon-to-release movie adaption—this journal will be a treasured keepsake.]]>
Iris Marlow can’t die. For years, she was tormented by her missing memories and desperate to learn her real identity. So when the mysterious Adam Temple offered to reveal the truth of who she was in exchange for her joining his team in the Tournament of Freaks, a gruesome magical competition, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse. But the truth would have been better left buried.
Because Adam is a member of the Enlightenment Committee, an elite secret society built upon one fundamental idea: that the apocalypse known as Hiva had destroyed the world before and would do it again, and soon. But what the Committee—and Iris—never guessed is that Hiva is not an event. Hiva is a person…Iris.
Now, no matter how hard Iris fights for a normal life, the newly awakened power inside her keeps drawing her toward the path of global annihilation. Adam, perversely obsessed with Iris, will stop at nothing to force her to unlock her true potential, while a terrifying newcomer with ties to Hiva’s past is on the hunt for Iris.
All Iris wants is the freedom to choose her own future, but the cost might be everything Iris holds dear—including the world itself.]]>
Hold on to what matters;
to joy
and being free.
When the world gets to be too much, we can always take a moment to look within ourselves for love, support, and healing. This lyrical mindfulness guide filled with an inspiring, positive self-esteem message helps young ones, especially Black and Brown children, feel big feelings and celebrate their whole being.
Includes a special author’s note and guide for caregivers to help little ones get embodied when their feelings get too big to handle.]]>
Luana Horryis a writer and editor of children’s books. When not writing, you can find her stargazing or drinking lots of coffee. She lives in New Jersey.
Tiffany Roseis a teacher, world traveler, and the left-handed author/illustrator ofM is for Melanin. She is also the illustrator ofAbdul’s Story,All I Need to Be,andHurry Kate, or You’ll Be Late. Tiffany is passionate about creating art and meaningful stories that reflect the everyday experiences of underrepresented voices in children’s literature. Tiffany currently lives and works in Shanghai, China. She’s a lover of coffee, wanderlust, massive curly afros, and children being their imaginative, quirky, free selves. Visit her atASouthPawDraws.com.]]>
Little elephant’s parent can’t quite remember the name of the thing they’ve lost, but they need it back! While on the hunt for the misplaced thingamajig, little elephant discovers other animals are missing things as well. Snail’s hoo-pull-dee-pewp for staying safe from the sun has disappeared. So has squirrel’s shis-moo for carrying acorns. And all the ladybugs are missing the ha-bee ja-bee they use for a table.
Is there a thief on the loose—or is there a simpler explanation for where all these different doohickeys have gone? Backmatter pages explain the around-the-world origins of each nonsense word appearing in the story.]]>
When a tree falls, is its story over?
There are many ways a tree’s story could end: Gobbled up by a bird as a tiny seed. Damaged by wind or ice or fire. Chopped down and hauled away. But some trees—this tree—survives. And grows old. Riddled with scars, cracks, and crevices, it becomes a place creatures large and small call home.
One day, after standing tall for centuries, this tree will fall. But even then, is its story over? Or will it continue to nurture the forest and its creatures for many years to come? Complete with additional information about the role trees play in a forest ecosystem, this sweeping story invites readers of all ages to celebrate the incredible life cycle and afterlife of trees.]]>
Stephanie Fizer Coleman is an illustrator with a penchant for playful color and rich texture.She is the illustrator of many books, includingFive Flying Penguins,Bird Count, andTime to Fly.Stephanie grew up in a rural area, so it’s no surprise that furry and feathered creatures are her favorite subjects to draw. When she’s not drawing, Steph can be found sipping tea and reading books. She lives in West Virginia with her husband and two dogs.Learn more atStephanieFizerColeman.com.]]>
When Grandfather comes to take his grandson to a concert, Ronan is quiet as they leave the house, quiet in the car, and quiet at the concert hall. But when the performance is over and the beautiful music fades out at last, Ronan opens his mouth…and lets out a great big WOW!
Not any old WOW, but Ronan’s very first WOW! That one word fills up the hearts of Ronan’s family, the musicians, the audience, and—when the recording goes viral—the world.]]>
Rashin Kheiriyehhas a master’s degree in graphic design and a doctorate in illustration and has illustrated more than eighty books in half a dozen languages, includingWelcome Homeby Aimee Reid andStory Boatby Kyo Maclear, aKirkus ReviewsBest Book of the Year. She was a 2017 Maurice Sendak fellow and is a lecturer at the University of Maryland. She was born in Khorramshahr, Iran, and now lives in Washington, DC. Visit her at RashinArt.com.]]>
Join modern-day siblings Annie and Nico as they learn about dinosaurs, extinction, and the people who discovered the dino bones. Featuring jokes, brief historical bios, a timeline of events, and more in this educational and entertaining middle grade graphic novel – perfect for reluctant readers!]]>
Born in 1969, Sylvain Savoia grew up in France, and discovered comicbooks at a young age. In 1989, he registered at the Saint-Luc art school in Brussels. Savoia enjoys a prolific international career illustrating comics.]]>
and a lot more fun with your besties by your side. Meilin Lee is
adjusting to life with her inner panda, and her best friends and
family are helping her through it—with a special appearance
by mega boy band 4*Town!
The New Adventures of Turning Red: Volume 1 collects four furry tales that are perfect for readers aged from 8 to 12.
Growing up can be a beast...but everything is a little easier
and a lot more fun with your besties by your side. Meilin Lee is
adjusting to life with her inner panda, and her best friends and
family are helping her through it—with a special appearance
by mega boy band 4*Town!
The New Adventures of Turning Red: Volume 1 collects four furry tales that are perfect for readers aged from 8 to 12.]]>
Cleo, Cora, Selena, Maya and Electra must face their worst nightmare! Namesis and her evil minions have cast a sleep spell on all of Aura, and now every Melowy is in a dream realm. Melowy magic is forbidden and Circe is the school’s principal. The girls will have to dream bright and dream big to break the spell and wake everyone up - before the evil nightmare becomes reality! Will Cleo and friends be able to save the day? Join them and share in the magic in this beautiful installment of MELOWY.]]>
Cleo, Cora, Selena, Maya and Electra must face their worst nightmare! Namesis and her evil minions have cast a sleep spell on all of Aura, and now every Melowy is in a dream realm. Melowy magic is forbidden and Circe is the school’s principal. The girls will have to dream bright and dream big to break the spell and wake everyone up - before the evil nightmare becomes reality! Will Cleo and friends be able to save the day? Join them and share in the magic in this beautiful installment of MELOWY.]]>
and a lot more fun with your besties by your side. Meilin Lee is
adjusting to life with her inner panda, and her best friends and
family are helping her through it—with a special appearance
by mega boy band 4*Town!
The New Adventures of Turning Red: Volume 1 collects four furry tales that are perfect for readers aged from 8 to 12.
Growing up can be a beast...but everything is a little easier
and a lot more fun with your besties by your side. Meilin Lee is
adjusting to life with her inner panda, and her best friends and
family are helping her through it—with a special appearance
by mega boy band 4*Town!
The New Adventures of Turning Red: Volume 1 collects four furry tales that are perfect for readers aged from 8 to 12.]]>
Do we ever stop playing the games we played as children?
"There's a video game from when I was a kid that no one else seems to remember."
Attaboy is an action-adventure comic disguised as an illustrated instructional booklet for a video game. The "byte"-sized hero is forced to avenge the destruction of his father and creator, Dr. Atta, by the sinister rebellious mechazoid Motherboard. However, the turn of each page unravels a much deeper story of pixelated thoughts, real world references, and heartbreaking truths.]]>
Tami Lynn Kent, women’s health physical therapist, acclaimed author, and founder of Holistic Pelvic Care, applies her groundbreaking approach to women’s health to the journey of motherhood with this easy-to-follow and warm-hearted guide. Discover the energy tools and gentle guidance to be used through the emotional and transformative process of pregnancy, birth, and motherhood.
Revealing her own soul-filled journey from miscarriage to mothering her three sons into adulthood, Kent offers an intimate and comprehensive guide to accessing the energy medicine within the female body. Drawing on her work with thousands of women and the energy of the pelvic bowl, Kent teaches you how to navigate the wild path of motherhood with the creative potential of your center and the profound medicine it contains for birth, birth trauma, generational trauma, and all aspects of being a mother and living creatively.]]>
• Presents the teachings of revered Ecuadorian Kichwa elder Taita Alberto Taxo as vivid, experiential journeys
• Details how to return to intimacy with Nature and the natural world through communicating with the elements
• Shares Andean shamanic practices and ceremonies for opening the heart, expanding consciousness, and shamanic journeying
In this deep dive into South American shamanism, Martha Winona Travers shares the teachings and practices she learned during her 22 years as an apprentice to revered Ecuadorian Kichwa elder, Taita Alberto Taxo.
Presenting Taita Alberto’s teachings as vivid, experiential journeys, Travers allows you to immerse yourself in his direct, heart-centered wisdom as if you, too, were one of his shamanic apprentices. You will learn the ancient mystical traditions of the Andes, traditions saved by the elders specifically for these times. These traditions of healing invite human beings to return to intimacy with Nature and the natural world, through initiating conversations with the elements including the fifth, spiritual element, the Ushai. You will learn about the delicate dance of the Eagle (the mind) and the Condor (the heart), including how to reestablish the path of the heart to help bring the overactive mind into balance, the key to embarking on powerful shamanic journeys. You will visit sacred waterfalls, travel high up the active volcano Cotopaxi to a mountain lake for ceremony, experience the sounds carried on the wind in the mountains, see the Condor flying, and sit at night around the fire, listening to stories and laughter.
As you journey together with Taita Alberto, you will begin to sense the fifth element, Ushai, being activated as the potent energy of spiritual transformation awakens within you. By experiencing his profound mystical realizations through shamanic transmission, you will learn to express gratitude with each of the elements, leave behind those burdens you no longer need to carry, and discover how to fly higher in life.]]>
• Explains the three distinct architectural styles found at the majority of sacred sites, representing three ancient world ages
• Examines evidence of the two oldest architectural ages at sites in the Sacred Valley of Peru in depth, connecting them to other sites around the world
• Explores the sophisticated science behind the construction of these stone sites, including modern research on acoustic levitation and ancient use of geopolymers
All around the world are mysterious ancient monoliths with strange features—perfectly carved terraces, massive steps, basins, and abstract forms with underground grottos and cave systems. Most archaeologists have a hard time explaining them and attribute their construction to the earliest known cultures in the area. However, these vestiges are found throughout Asia, Asia Minor, Indonesia, Europe, and especially in South America, so they transcend regional boundaries and cultures and point toward a long-forgotten ancient worldwide civilization.
Examining sacred sites in Peru and their counterparts around the world, researcher and journalist Camille M. Sauvé shows how they share specific architectural characteristics and reveal evidence of a very ancient culture that once existed worldwide. She examines the work of Peruvian researcher Alfredo Gamarra, who first described in detail the three distinct building styles and construction methods of these sites and how they represent three ancient world ages. She explains how Hanan Pacha (Heaven Above) constructions, the oldest style, are universally revered as sacred by the civilizations that came after them. Weaving together a tapestry of what early humanity looked like, the author examines the writings of famous clairvoyants like Rudolf Steiner, Madame Blavatsky, and Edgar Cayce who recorded the works of early man through the Akashic records. She also looks at myths and legends that offer insights into the three forgotten ages, including connections to Lemuria and Atlantis.
Besides the more esoteric questions about who could have built these wonders, the author also examines the unique properties of the monoliths themselves and the sophisticated science behind the construction of these stone sites. She shows how they seem to be placed on earth power spots and how most of the rocks have significant piezoelectric properties from high quartz and silica content. She also examines evidence of the use of vitrification and what seems like the ability to shape hard metamorphosed stone without conventional tools.
Revealing that many sacred sites are much older than previously thought, Camille Sauvé shows that Peru may hold the secret to remembering our forgotten prehistory.]]>
The Left is America’s oldest enemy.
It was here long before the 1960s, calling for the execution of George Washington, plotting to stop the ratification of the Constitution, and collaborating with foreign enemies.
Stolen elections, fake news, race riots, globalism, and socialism aren’t new problems; Americans faced them from the very beginning.
Domestic Enemies reveals the true origins of the Democratic Party and its radicals, who—even two centuries ago—were calling for the redistribution of wealth, the end of marriage, and the use of schools for political indoctrination.
From political battles to street fights, Domestic Enemies takes you into the heart of a century of forgotten struggles between America’s greatest heroes—such as Washington, Hamilton, Davy Crockett, and Abraham Lincoln—and radical villains like Aaron Burr.
This is a 1619 Project for the American Left: a history of the Democrats as you’ve never heard it before, told through the political debates, naval battles, race riots, scandals, secret societies, and domestic terrorism that made the Left what it is today.
Learn how the Founding Fathers defeated the Left before, and how we can beat it again.]]>
A concise and lucid account of the little-known, but extremely important history of today’s American Left—and why it was and is so dangerous.”]]>
“I had the pleasure of working with Richard Gurman for eleven years. When he sent me his new book Married… With Children vs. the World, I figured it would be a trip down memory lane. So I was stunned by some revelations I never knew. And reminded how brilliant much of the writing was. What a time that was. If you liked Married… With Children, then you should read this book. You’re in for a treat!” —Ed O’Neill
Married… With Children burst onto the airwaves with a full-frontal attack on the myth of domestic tranquility depicted in family comedies since the dawn of TV. The outlier series, created by two rebellious writers given carte blanche from a fledgling FOX, became one of the longest running live-action sitcoms in television history and forever changed the way married life was portrayed on the very networks it so scathingly satirized. But it was far from smooth sailing as the creators bucked up against Barry Diller—then CEO of FOX—on everything from casting to content and then butted heads with network standards as they sought to shatter traditional broadcast norms.
"Reading Married… With Children vs. the World jolted me right back into the mindset where our little show was the rock ’n’ roll of sitcoms fighting to get heard in an easy-listening world. Richard Gurman, who was there for the whole ride, digs deep into the joys and frustrations of the entire experience and turns it up loud.” —Katey Sagal
Married… With Children writer-producer Richard Gurman takes us behind the scenes of this boundary-breaking show to reveal how its inner workings were at times as disruptive and contentious—yet at other times, as hysterical and raunchy—as the Bundy family themselves. Featuring exclusive interviews with the cast, including Ed O’Neill and Katey Sagal, media moguls, network executives, writers, directors, critics, and even the woman who was so offended by one episode she launched a sponsor boycott that almost got the series canceled, Married… With Children vs. the World celebrates the rebellious, satirical vision of the show and the battle to keep it alive that paved the way for the tremendous diversity in family comedy style we see today.
“Not only is this an accurate chronicle of both families, on either side of the camera, but what should also serve as a valuable lesson of never giving up on a dream.” —Michael G. Moye, Co-Creator
“I had almost as much fun reading Married… with Children vs. the World as I had working on the show. Almost. Richard Gurman chronicles, from his vantage point inside the writers’ room and the sound booth, how we broke the china in the family sitcom kitchen, and upended the television industry by doing so. What could be more fun than that?” —David Garrison]]>
Shay Charka also lectures on visual language to a variety of audiences at national and private institutions, museums, festivals, educational bodies, and cultural centers in Israel and abroad.]]>
The Holocaust is an event greater than the sum of the survivor testimonies and the stories of its six million victims. It is an event beyond the capacity of the human brain to contain. It deserves to be described not only in testimonies and documentation, but in legends.
Judessey depicts the journey of Leon, a Jewish professor from Poland who finds himself in the midst of World War II, who strives to find his way home while battling the monsters of Europe. An epic tale of a Jewish partisan whose family is taken away by the Nazis, this graphic novella shares a new way of engaging with the Holocaust. Judessey expresses the biggest trauma of our time through dialogue with the Odyssey, which has inspired so many human journeys.]]>
Shay Charka also lectures on visual language to a variety of audiences at national and private institutions, museums, festivals, educational bodies, and cultural centers in Israel and abroad.]]>
TikTok: @SallySlices]]>
“Sally Slices” rose to TikTok fame by sharing inspiring clips from his family’s pizzeria outside Trenton, NJ. In Pizza for Your Soul, Sal invites readers further into his kitchen and teaches what it means to cook with your heart by sharing traditional Sicilian recipes, heartfelt anecdotes about family, insight into his very own American Dream, and life lessons and advice.
If you’re looking for a family, you’ve found one. No matter where you’re from or where you live, Sal will always be right down the street.]]>
TikTok: @SallySlices]]>
When Emily Halnon lost her beloved mother to a rare uterine cancer at just sixty-six years old, she wanted to do something monumental to honor the person her mother had been: adventurous, courageous, inspiring. Emily’s mom had taken up running in her late forties; she ran her first marathon at fifty. She learned to swim at sixty so she could do triathlons, and she lived through a grim diagnosis with extraordinary joy and strength, still going for long bike rides and walks up until the final weeks before her death. She even went skydiving to celebrate her sixtieth birthday.
It was going to take something special to pay tribute to such a remarkable, lifeloving spirit. Emily, already an accomplished ultrarunner (inspired to initially start running by her mother), decided to try to break the record for the Fastest Known Time by a woman on the Pacific Crest Trail’s 460 miles across Oregon. As she laid out plans for her run, she began to wonder: Could she also break the men’s record?
To the Gorge takes the reader through her 7 days, 19 hours, and 23 minutes on the trail, covering nearly sixty miles a day on foot over rugged terrain, and battling all the issues that could arise during such a monstrous undertaking: hammered muscles, golf ballsized blisters, sleep deprivation, alpine storms, and debilitating self-doubt. All the while, she simultaneously struggles with how to get through the profound grief of losing her mom and grapples with how to move forward after experiencing devastating loss.
Interwoven with Halnon’s eight-day effort are her remembrances from her mother’s life and death, exploring the complicated experience of grief—and what shines through it.
To the Gorge will resonate with anyone whom life has hit with a hardball and has had to dig deep as they wonder how they will pull through. Filled with adventure and heart, To the Gorge invites readers to consider what our greatest losses can teach us about how to live the one life we get.]]>
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet.) She's learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.]]>
A tyrant by day, a playboy by night.
That is the reputation that precedes Richard VanRyan. He lives life the way he wants, no concern for the opinion of others. He cares for no one, is completely unrepentant, and he has no desire to change his ways.
Katharine Elliott works under Richard as his PA. She despises him and his questionable ethics, but endures all the garbage he sends her way, because she needs the job. Her end goal is far more important than the daily abuse and demands she tolerates from her nasty tyrant of a boss. Until the day, he asks her for something she never expected. A new role with a personal contract— fiancée instead of PA.
What happens when two people who loathe each other, have to live together and act as though they are madly in love?
Sparks.
That's what happens.
Can the power of love really change a person?
Will they survive the contract?
What do you do when the one person you hate the most becomes the one person you can't live without?]]>
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet.) She's learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.]]>
• Explores ancient Taoist wisdom and chi kung methods to restore the skin’s ability to renew itself by regenerating your skin’s chi, or vital energy
• Presents easy step-by-step instructions for detoxifying techniques, circulation-enhancing activities, and energy cultivation for a radiant complexion
• Shares Taoist secrets for beautiful hair and looks at the connections between beauty and emotions
Presenting a holistic approach to skin health, Taoist Master Mantak Chia and skin care expert Anna Margolina, Ph.D., share ancient Taoist wisdom and chi kung practices for a radiant complexion and ageless beauty.
The authors explain how Beauty Chi Kung exercises holistically restore the skin’s ability to renew itself by regenerating your skin’s chi, or vital energy. They offer Taoist energy-cultivation practices that work with the body’s major systems to promote optimum circulation, relax muscular tensions, reduce inflammation, restore immune system balance, and recharge your batteries to ensure the vitality of your body’s outermost layer. Looking at common challenges to skin health, the authors reveal the key role of the skin in detoxification and what needs to be done to ensure the toxins your body is expelling do not stagnate at the skin level. They offer tips for releasing CO2 fully from the body, so it is not reabsorbed into the body’s tissues, and share Taoist deep breathing practices to help release what the lungs have collected from the blood stream.
Exploring skin renewal, the authors detail skin breathing techniques and easy circulation-enhancing activities. They detail the practice of stem cell chi kung, showing how hydration and vibrations can activate stem cells to support deep and extensive renewal of the skin’s surface. They also look at several of Master Chia’s classic Universal Healing Tao practices that can help support inner and outer beauty.
Revealing how to cultivate physical and spiritual beauty, this Taoist guide to energetic skin care presents powerful and effective methods for achieving youthful radiance and glowing health at any age.]]>
• Examines the endocannabinoid system and explains how cannabis medicine affects the major systems of the body
• Looks at more than 20 marijuana medicines, describing each medicine’s time of onset, duration of effect, target areas, and conditions treated
• Shares recipes for making simple marijuana medicines as well as detailed instructions for making psychoactive and non-psychoactive teas, tinctures, oils, salves, and aromatherapy remedies
In this in-depth guide to cannabis therapy, written for both health practitioners and those looking for self-care methods, herbalist and holistic healer Wendy Read provides a complete look at why marijuana medicine works, its medical and spiritual uses throughout history, and how to develop a personalized healing plan. She explores the endocannabinoid system (ECS) of the body and how phytocannabinoids interact with it. She addresses the myths and confusion around cannabis, which stem from its history of persecution and propaganda, and looks at how our ancestors around the world used this plant ally to help heal their spirits. She explains why “getting high” can be good for your physical and mental health and also cautions about the potential side effects of cannabis therapy and how to mitigate them.
Looking at cannabis as whole plant medicine, the author examines the many healing components throughout the plant, from flowers to roots, from cannabinoid acids to alkaloids. Outlining how to develop a personalized cannabis therapy plan for yourself or others, the author presents a comprehensive list of more than 20 marijuana medicines, describing for each medicine its time of onset, duration of effect, target areas of the body, and conditions that each medicine is ideal for, including anxiety, PTSD, depression, opioid addiction, Alzheimer’s Disease, and cancer therapy. The author also shares recipes for making simple marijuana medicines at home as well as detailed instructions for psychoactive and non-psychoactive teas, tinctures, oils, salves, and aromatherapy remedies.
Revealing the vast benefits of cannabis therapy, this step-by-step guide shows you how to use marijuana medicine to help restore balance of mind, body, and spirit.]]>
• Explains how to make and use the essential tools of a Celtic Druid and how to create Druid rituals for seasonal rites, blessings, and other sacred observances
• Details Druidic magical techniques and divination practices, as well as plant spells for performing magic with herbs
• Explores the Gods and Goddesses of the Celtic pantheon, Druidic cosmology, and the Druidic festivals that occur throughout the year
In this authentic handbook for the Celtic Druid path, Ellen Evert Hopman shares lessons, rituals, and magical techniques drawn from the ancient wisdom teachings of the Celts as well as a modern Druid Order created by the leading minds of 20th-century Celtic Reconstructionism.
Hopman begins by exploring what we know about the original ancient Druids, citing Druid-contemporary sources such as Caesar and Diodorus Siculus as well as transcriptions of Druid oral teachings. She explains the basic tools and clothing of a Celtic Druid, including instructions for making the essential tools of the craft, such a Crane Bag, the Serpent Staff, and the Apple Branch, the tool used to open a Druid rite. She explores meditation techniques based on ancient texts and discusses the Gods and Goddesses of the Celtic pantheon, Druidic cosmology, and the Druidic festivals that occur throughout the turning of the year. She shares hymns to the Moon and the Sun as well as invocations for connecting with specific deities and elements. She also outlines the basics of Druidic liturgy, enabling you to create Druid rituals for seasonal rites, baby blessings, house blessings, hand-fastings, funerals, and other sacred observances.
Detailing Druidic magical techniques, Hopman shares charms and incantations for abundance, protection, and healing as well as plant spells for performing magic with herbs. She discusses many forms of Druidic divination, including interpreting omens and divining with the ancient Irish alphabet, Ogham. Exploring the special connection between humans and Nature, a core component of Druidic practice, the author explains how to bond with Nature and the sacred land as well as examining the connection between Druids and trees.
Revealing how to become a modern Druid, this concise yet detailed guide presents everything you need to know to start your journey on the Druidic path.]]>
• Decodes the alchemical, Qabalistic, hermetic, spiritual, and Tarot-related references in many of Plath’s poems
• Based on more than 15 years of research, including analysis of Plath’s unpublished personal writings from the Plath archives at Indiana University
• Examines the influences of Plath’s parents, her early interests in Hermeticism, and her and husband Ted Hughes’s explorations in the supernatural and the occult
Sharing her more than 15 years of compelling research—including analysis of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished calendars, notebooks, scrapbooks, book annotations, and underlinings, as well as published memoirs, biographies, letters, journals, and interviews with Plath and her husband, friends, and family—Plath scholar Julia Gordon-Bramer reveals Sylvia Plath’s enduring interest and active practice in mysticism and the occult from childhood until her tragic death in 1963. She examines Plath’s early years growing up in a transcendentalist Unitarian church under a brilliant, if stern, Freemason father and a mother who wrote her master’s dissertation on the famous alchemist Paracelsus. She reveals Plath’s early knowledge of Hermeticism, how she devoured books on the occult throughout her life, and how, since adolescence, Plath regularly wrote of premonitory dreams. Examining Plath’s tumultuous marriage with poet Ted Hughes, she looks at their explorations in the supernatural and Hughes’s mentoring of Plath in meditation, crystal-gazing, astrology, Qabalah, Tarot, automatic writing, magical workings, and use of the Ouija board. She also reveals how, at the end of her marriage, Plath used her husband’s hair and fingernails in rituals.
Looking at Plath’s writing and her evolution as a person through mystical, political, personal, and historical lenses, Gordon-Bramer shows how her poems take on radically new, surprising, and universal meanings—explaining why Hughes perpetually denied that Plath was “a confessional poet.” Contrasting the versions in Letters Home with those held in the Plath archives at Indiana University, the author also shows how all occult influences have been rigorously excised from the letters approved for publication by the Plath and Hughes Estate.
Revealing significant, previously undiscovered meanings in Sylvia Plath’s works, much broader than the narrow lens of her tragic autobiography, the author shows how Plath’s writings are deeply rooted in her mystical and occult endeavors.]]>
• Offers a step-by-step process to unleash the unconscious and intuitive wisdom held in the awareness of your soul: Deep Knowledge Meditation
• Includes guided journal prompts to help you listen to your heart and shine a light on your own deepest wisdom and soul knowledge
• Shares channeled lessons from the author’s late son Jordan on the mysteries of human existence, including what the divine or god is, the nature of a soul, the nature of matter and energy, the role of love in our lives, and the origin of the universe
Human life is surrounded by mystery. At the center of this mystery is the question: Why are we here? is there a purpose to our existence, a reason why we’re experiencing the beauty and pain of physical life? There is also the mystery of the universe itself. What is it and where did it come from? Religious and spiritual traditions have created complex cosmologies to answer these questions, but each tradition has a different answer and we are left with profound uncertainty about deeper reality. As psychologist Matthew McKay reveals, we can each discover our own answers to these questions, our own inner truth, by connecting with the wisdom of our souls.
In this guided workbook, McKay offers a step-by-step process to unleash the unconscious and intuitive wisdom held in the awareness of your soul. He explains how to use “deep knowledge meditation” to access all of your soul’s accumulated knowledge, everything you have learned across all of your incarnations. Channeling his late son, Jordan, a discarnate soul who has lived hundreds of lives, McKay shares Jordan’s lessons on the mysteries of human existence, including what the divine or god is, the nature of a soul, the nature of matter and energy, the role of love in our lives, and the origin of the universe. Accompanying these channeled teachings are journal prompts from Jordan, to be used with deep knowledge meditation, to help you listen to your heart and shine a light on your own deepest wisdom and soul knowledge.
Guiding you on a journey of self-discovery, this book offers the opportunity to find your soul’s truth about your life’s purpose and the nature of physical reality.]]>
The 16 scratch-off artworks in this book feature colorful crests and quotes from Hogwarts, its Houses, and the Wizarding World. Just use the included etching stylus to reveal as much of the design as you like, then add your own touches to each piece. Scratch art pages include hand-lettered designs of iconic quotes from Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and Luna Lovegood; poster-style pieces representing Quidditch and the Order of the Phoenix; Hogwarts’ castle, crest, and motto; and three unique images for each House—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. An introductory section describes how to etch for best results, and samples of finished artworks are shown for reference. Each page is perforated, making it easy to display on the wall of your common room or cubicle.]]>
He was lead illustrator for the first version of the award-winning Encarta CD-ROM encyclopedia as well as the Explorapedia children’s encyclopedia series. For five years, Bryan was the 3D Design Lead at Big Idea Productions, the producers of the VeggieTales children’s videos. He was a professor of Digital Media Arts at Huntington University in Indiana for 16 years.
Bryan is the author and illustrator of Animal Gas: A Farty Farce (2015, Union Square Kids), a quirky scratch and sniff children’s picture book as well as 3 POW! Kids Books titles, The Big Wig Parade (2023), Counting Cows (2024), & The Story of a Pig Named Joe and his Quest to be Fancy (2024), each story featuring whimsical wacky animals up to varying hijinks that keep young readers laughing ‘til the end of the book!
Bryan is currently the 2023-2024 Artist in Residence at The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, the world’s largest children’s museum. He runs a program that teaches the young and young at heart all about the creativity of illustration!]]>
Count up to ten and down again with this fever dream of a tale! Chuck Dükman, our leading janitor of a theatrical stage, is ready to fall asleep but not until he finishes his janitorial duties. Chuck is roused by a cowcophony of clowns! Our rowdy friends romp around the stage as readers practice their numbers. Does Chuck Dükman find a way to get the theater clean or was it all just a dream?
Our troop of clown cows honk horns, tightrope walk, unicycle ride, toss pies & overall make a disastrous, hilarious mess until Chuck Dükman regains control and demands clean-up help. The cows are under great management... but will they succeed in making this playful establishment clean? These circus clowns will if Dükman has anything to say about it!
A bonus, Counting Cows is a “Get Ready for Bed” book in disguise! Rowdy playtime, clean-up, wash-up and then time for sleep? This is a story that belongs on the nightstand to read again and again!]]>
He was lead illustrator for the first version of the award-winning Encarta CD-ROM encyclopedia as well as the Explorapedia children’s encyclopedia series. For five years, Bryan was the 3D Design Lead at Big Idea Productions, the producers of the VeggieTales children’s videos. He was a professor of Digital Media Arts at Huntington University in Indiana for 16 years.
Bryan is the author and illustrator of Animal Gas: A Farty Farce (2015, Union Square Kids), a quirky scratch and sniff children’s picture book as well as 3 POW! Kids Books titles, The Big Wig Parade (2023), Counting Cows (2024), & The Story of a Pig Named Joe and his Quest to be Fancy (2024), each story featuring whimsical wacky animals up to varying hijinks that keep young readers laughing ‘til the end of the book!
Bryan is currently the 2023-2024 Artist in Residence at The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, the world’s largest children’s museum. He runs a program that teaches the young and young at heart all about the creativity of illustration!]]>
Eight cows dripping.
Nine cows kicking.
Ten cows sticking.
Ten cows stopping.
Ten cows mopping.
Nine cows sloshing.
Eight cows washing."]]>
They fell for each other in just twenty-four hours. Now Rowan and Neil embark on a long-distance relationship during their first year of college in this romantic, dual POV sequel to Today Tonight Tomorrow.
When longtime rivals Rowan Roth and Neil McNair confessed their feelings on the last day of senior year, they knew they’d only have a couple months together before they left for college. Now summer is over, and they’re determined to make their relationship work as they begin school in different places.
In Boston, Rowan is eager to be among other aspiring novelists, learning from a creative writing professor she adores. She’s just not sure why she suddenly can’t seem to find her voice.
In New York, Neil embraces the chaos of the city, clicking with a new friend group more easily than he anticipated. But when his past refuses to leave him alone, he doesn’t know how to handle his rapidly changing mental health—or how to talk about it with the girl he loves.
Over a year of late-night phone calls, weekend visits, and East Coast adventures, Rowan and Neil fall for each other again and again as they grapple with the uncertainty of their new lives. They’ve spent so many years at odds with each other—now that they’re finally on the same team, what does the future hold for them?]]>
Will is the only round kid in a school full of thin ones. So he hides…in baggy jeans and oversized hoodies, in the back row during class, and anywhere but the cafeteria during lunch. But shame isn’t the only feeling that dominates Will’s life. He’s also got a crush on a girl named Jules who he knows he doesn’t have a chance with, because of his size—but he can’t help wondering what if?
Will’s best shot at attracting Jules’s attention is by slaying the Will Monster inside him by changing his eating habits and getting more exercise. But the results are either frustratingly slow or infuriatingly unsuccessful, and Will’s shame begins to morph into self-loathing.
As he resorts to increasingly drastic measures to transform his appearance, Will meets skateboarder Markus, who helps him see his body and all it contains as an ever-evolving work in progress.]]>
The natural world is full of patterns to enjoy for those who can ground themselves, be mindful, and truly see.]]>
Samantha Cotterill has written and illustrated many popular books for children, including the Little Senses series,Thankfulby Elaine Vickers,A Grand Dayby Jean Reidy,Lookby Gabi Snyder,Jinx and the Doom Fight Crime!by Lisa Mantchev, andJust Add Glitterby Angela DiTerlizzi, whichThe New YorkTimescalled “a sparkle of genius.” Samantha lives with her family in upstate New York. Learn more at SamanthaCotterill.com.]]>
A pregnant parent and a child—both ginger-haired and white-presenting—navigate a busy autumn day, with stops at a garden, a farmers market, a pond, and a wooded trail. The child carries a sketchbook gifted by the parent, making drawings of patterns spied in textiles, butterfly wings, and the starry night sky. Throughout, the text directly addresses readers, pointing out patterns, encouraging them to find others, and suggesting physical activities that add kinesthetic possibilities for pattern-finding. Snyder identifies the striped pattern made by a kitchen chair’s cast shadow—“Light, dark, light, dark”—then asks, as the pair leave the house, “Where else can you discover stripes?” Cotterill’s hand-built mixed-media constructions, replete with 2-D painted inserts of diverse people, flora, and fauna, embody the visual cacophony of Snyder’s text. A lively farmers market scene contains visual depth, colorful details, and plenty of discoverable patterns. The walk home leads the parent and child through woods teeming with mushrooms, bright leaves, and wildlife. The occasional blurring of the photographed backgrounds is a bit jarring, evoking more a camera’s eye than a child’s visual experiences.
A warm invitation for children to find mastery and calm in looking. (glossary, pattern activities) (Picture book. 4-7)
]]>
The moment new guy Jarrod Thornton walks into the room, Kate senses something strange and mesmerizing about him. Something supernatural. Her instincts are proven correct a few minutes later when, bullied by his classmates, Jarrod conjures up a freak thunderstorm inside the classroom.
Only, Jarrod doesn’t believe in the paranormal and has no idea his magic is behind the strange incidents that plague him. He finds Kate’s convictions about magic especially frustrating because of the magnetic attraction between them. Why can’t he fall for a normal girl?
But, eventually, not even Jarrod can dismiss his gift…or the mounting danger it’s causing. To save their future, Jarrod and Kate embark on an incredible journey to the past where they must foil the curse that has plagued Jarrod’s family for centuries. Can these fledgling witches summon the strength to emerge victorious?]]>
Kate
His name is Jarrod Thornton. He has blond-red hair to his shoulders, nice clean skin, and green eyes like fiery emeralds; but this is not why I can’t drag my eyes off him. There’s something else. Something almost… disturbing. It’s this unearthly element that’s got me hooked.
He’s standing awkwardly at the front of a class of twenty-seven sophom*ores, looking as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands—or his unusual eyes. As they flick nervously across the back wall of the lab, I glimpse amazing inky blue circles surrounding deep green irises. They’ve been everywhere without once connecting with anyone else’s. He has a black backpack that looks as if it’s traveled twice around the world slung across one slightly slanted shoulder, and he keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot. He’s in uniform: the usual gray trousers, white shirt, red striped tie. At a guess, it doesn’t look new.
Mr. Garret, our science teacher, tells us a little about him. His family shifted from the Riverina only a couple of days ago and he has a younger brother, Casey, who’s still in third grade.
Looks like I’m not the only one interested. Tasha Daniels’s eyes are on Jarrod too. But hers are fixed in a leering manner, her sultry painted mouth slightly parted, invitation written all over her. God, she’s so obvious. Briefly, I glance at Pecs, class loudmouth and Tasha’s boyfriend, though there’ve been rumors lately that not all is well in that camp.
Not that Pecs is his real name. He got it around fourth grade, courtesy of his rugby coach, who’d been impressed by the boy’s stocky rugby appearance and muscular arms. It turned out the name suited his personality, which wasn’t much even then. I know, I was there. Still, I can’t imagine anyone calling him Angus John, named after some long-dead Scottish relative. Not even the teachers dare. Pecs is one of those blatantly rude, in-your-face thugs that can make your life a misery. And does so just for kicks.
He notices Tasha’s interest in the new guy, registers the threat instantly, something basic enough for his singularly focused mind to comprehend.
I decide to probe inside Pecs’s brain. It’s one of the skills Jillian taught me. She says I was born with a natural gift, sensing emotions, feeling emotions. Over the years I’ve polished the skill to a point that now I only have to concentrate for a few seconds and I’m in. Inside his head.
Oh hell! I make a fast withdrawal, my head spinning. He’s all burning fuel. Makes me feel as if I stepped too close to a raging fire. Geez.
“Kate? Kate!”
Hannah, my best (and only) friend, is staring at me with wide brown eyes. “Yeah?”
“You all right? You went paler than your usual God-awful pale.”
I smile, ignoring her God-awful comment. I may look anemic, but I’m not. I am careful, though, to avoid the sun, my skin burns too quickly. Living on Ashpeak Mountain suits me fine. It even snows in winter. I have long, dead-straight black hair, courtesy of a father I’ve never met. And except for her pale skin, I don’t take after my mother at all. She apparently has hair as gold as butternut. At least she did fifteen years ago, which was the last time I saw her. Obviously, I don’t remember a thing. My grandmother, Jillian, raised me. People say I have a somewhat unusual look. It’s my eyes, I think, a kind of gray-blue like my mother and turned up on the outside edges. Along with my pale skin and black hair, some people think I’m a witch. They’re right, of course, but not in the stereotypical sense of the word.
Hannah’s the only one who knows the truth. Sure, everyone gossips, the community up here is pathetically small. And nosy. But Hannah’s seen what I can do, which isn’t much, really. Not yet anyway.
And even though Jillian is my grandmother, I don’t call her Gran or anything like that. She raised me after my birth mother bailed out when I was a baby. She couldn’t hack my crying, apparently—a habit I grew out of. I was only eight months at the time.
As soon as I could understand, Jillian explained about my mother’s inadequacies with babies, and told me not to worry though, thankfully, she—Jillian—loved children. At first she didn’t know what I should call her. “Mom” just wasn’t right. Besides, the whole community knew the truth anyway—that Karen Warren had given birth to a bouncing baby girl at the ripe old age of fifteen years and three months.
And ’cause Jillian didn’t like “Nana” words, not, she reckoned, suitable for a thirty-one year old, I grew up calling her by her first name.
One thing Jillian constantly teaches me is to keep certain things a mystery. Like my abilities—to move objects, work spells, sense moods, and, well… change things. They’re only small tricks compared to what Jillian can do. They never say it to her face, but most everybody around here knows Jillian’s a witch. With me they’re only guessing. But they’ve never seen either of us do anything, Jillian’s careful about that. They come to their assumptions mainly because of where we live (buried half into the rain forest), Jillian’s New Age shop, and the freelance articles she writes for various witch magazines. Of course they never say anything to her face. They’re scared. Scared she’ll perform “black magic” on them. They don’t know her, of course. If only they’d stop to read one of her articles they’d see what Jillian is: a healer. She doesn’t make much money out of the shop, the articles keep us financially afloat. Sure, she’s a witch, but most people have stupid preconceived ideas of what a witch is. Jillian’s not “typical” in any way. And as for me, I’m still in training.
I hear a noise up front and see Jarrod falling off his stool. Unbelievable. He just reaches across to grab a glass beaker and wham, he’s on the floor, a tangle of long arms and legs. The class explodes, laughing their stupid heads off. They’re all jerks. I watch as Jarrod tries to compose himself, red-faced, climbing awkwardly back on his stool, his head angling sharply downward so that his eyes don’t connect with anybody’s. He’s good at that. A thick wad of shiny yellow hair crosses his forehead, obscuring his face even more.
I sense his nervousness, and wonder why. Okay, it’s his first day at a new school, and Pecs’s hostility is tangible; but this is different. So I decide to probe, gently at first, just skirting the edges of his senses. His head suddenly lifts and stills as if… Uh-uh, he can’t possibly feel me. Nobody ever does. Gingerly, I dig a little deeper, feel his hesitation, awkwardness, nerves. I feel his desire, burning away inside, an impassioned need to fit in, as if he’s just a small boy lost somewhere in the midst of a great forest, with no sense of direction.
Something hard hits me. It takes a second to realize what it is, as this has never happened before. A wall is between us. He’s blocking me out. I’m still staring at the back of his head and notice his shoulders jerk up and stiffen. His head shifts around, slowly at first, like he’s searching for something. He sees me and stops. Our eyes collide and lock. He’s wearing a frown, which slowly transforms into a look of puzzlement. It’s like he wants to ask something but isn’t sure what, yet senses its importance.
I know then—he’s different too. He did feel my probe, even though I gather he doesn’t understand what happened. And suddenly Jarrod Thornton becomes much more interesting.
Mr. Garret attempts to regain control of the class, repeatedly tapping the whiteboard with the butt of his blue felt pen. Jarrod swings his gaze back to the front, releasing me, and at last I breathe.
I don’t dare probe again. My heart is still pounding from that three-second connection with Jarrod’s mind. I try to home in on what knowledge Mr. Garret is attempting to impart; but I’m lost, my concentration shattered. And I can’t drag my thoughts away from Jarrod. I’m tempted like crazy to go back in.
At last we get to the practical side of the lesson, and, luckily, the experiment is really basic, mixing an alkali with an acid in the presence of litmus. So there is nothing explosive. Still, it needs my concentration, adding diluted hydrochloric acid drop by drop while continually stirring, then adding sodium hydroxide in the same way, observing the various color changes; but Jarrod has just slipped on a pair of gold-framed glasses and Pecs is keeling over in fits of hysterical laughter. He should be back in kindergarten where his level of maturity has company.
My experiment turns purple. I glance at Jarrod and notice his shoulders lift and hold for a stretched moment as he fights to control his emotions. Part of me wants to see him lash out as Pecs deserves, but I can tell it’s not Jarrod’s style. He either lacks the self-confidence necessary to confront a hulking brute like Pecs, or has the patience of a Tibetan monk. I’m going for the lack of confidence. His mannerisms are kind of stilted, awkward, clumsy. It makes me wonder about him, what sort of life he’s had. His back remains stiff while he tries to maintain control.
My eyes search for Mr. Garret, though why I’m not sure. The man is a weakling in the face of Pecs and his mates. Especially since his divorce became final last year. Everyone knows about it. He was the talk of Ashpeak for months on end. Without any indication, Rachel Garret, wife of nine years, dropped their two kids off at preschool and kindergarten, picked up the local pharmacist, and disappeared. No one heard from the pair, not a word, for twelve whole months. Finally she returned, but only to claim custody of the kids, which she got after a nasty court battle. But Mr. G’s personal life isn’t the only loss, his enthusiasm for life disappeared, as well as any classroom control.
But Pecs, it seems, is searching for trouble. Something he thrives on. We’re supposed to be working in pairs, one mixing chemicals, the other taking notes. Mr. Garret, head bent, back to the class, is helping Adam Rendal and Kyle Flint get it right. Pecs leaves his seat, leans down, and whispers something in Tasha’s ear that makes her giggle like the brainless airhead she portrays; and in a bare-faced attempt to cause trouble, Pecs walks straight past Jarrod, knocking his glasses off his face in a movement that is so obvious no one could call it an accident. They drop with a clang to the floor.
“Ah, gee, sorry man. Did I do that?” Pretending to pick them up, Pecs then purposefully kicks the gold frames midway across the hard cold floor.
Half the class laughs at Pecs’s sick antics, Mr. Garret so far behind it all he may as well have never turned up for class this morning. He makes Pecs pick them up though, which Pecs does, making sure to smudge saliva-slurred fingers across both sides of the lenses. His mouth hangs open, thick tongue lolling heavily to one side of his protruding lower lip. His face betrays a hint of satisfaction. He’s really enjoying himself now. Uggh! He needs a mirror.
My mind sifts through the different number of spells I’ve recently mastered to some degree of success. The eternal body itch could be a possibility. Now, wouldn’t that be sweet justice? Giving Pecs irritating rashes on every conceivable part of his body. Of course Jillian would talk me out of it. She lectures incessantly about the dangers of tampering with nature. Right now I can’t remember one word she’s said.
“What a moron, eh?”
I smile at Hannah’s description of Pecs’s personality. But the smile doesn’t last long. Something sharp hits my senses though I can’t place it. Something unnerving. I glance out of the window but see nothing but blue sky on a crisp autumn morning. I home in on Jarrod, careful not to probe past the outer ridges of his mind. It’s enough though. I feel his anger, and how he battles to control it. Fleetingly I want him to let loose. I have the feeling if he did these babbling idiots wouldn’t know what hit them. But my sensible side urges him to keep it hidden, not to draw more attention to himself. In this way I feel aligned to him on some unnameable scale. It’s how I live—skirting the edges.
Things start happening really quickly. Jessica Palmer, Tasha’s best friend, and one of the “trendies,” all highlighted blondes and sooty lashes, starts screaming hysterically as her half-filled beaker explodes. With the shattering of glass, chemicals spread a sizzling puddle across the bench, quickly slithering to the floor. Luckily for Jessica, her slender fingers, waggling crazily at the side of her head as she continues screaming, miss the scalding mess.
Mr. Garret’s voice rises for the first time in a year, yelling at Jessica to calm down and start cleaning up. He has it all wrong, of course. Jessica has nothing to do with that beaker exploding. She didn’t drop it or anything. It occurs to me that it’s probably better that Mr. Garret thinks Jessica is responsible. I’m not being vindictive, Jessica Palmer has nothing to do with me. God, she probably hasn’t spoken more than three words to me in the past two years. But my senses are heightened, alarmed. Something strange is happening, something that borders on unexplainable.
Pecs blames Jarrod. Mr. Garret shrugs it off as ridiculous. “Go back to your seat, Pecs, before I give you a lunchtime detention, and while you’re there, help Jessica clean up that mess.”
Personally I think Pecs is right, but I’m keeping my mouth shut. Pecs can fight his own battles, and I secretly hope he loses every one of them.
But, as usual, the jerk can’t stop stirring trouble. “He did do it, sir, I saw him,” he blatantly lies. “He threw something, sir. Yeah… he threw his… his…” It takes him a minute to think of this. “His lighter!”
Jarrod shifts so that he can see Pecs better. From seemingly nowhere Pecs produces a small, plastic, fluorescent yellow gas lighter. Evidence. I realize by the shared secret smile he exchanges with his friend, Ryan Bartland, how the lighter suddenly appeared.
Unfortunately Mr. Garret misses the smug exchange and starts examining the lighter as if it were Exhibit One in a murder trial.
“Why would I have a lighter, Mr. Garret? I don’t smoke.”
These are the first words I hear Jarrod say, and though they are uttered softly, calmly, I can tell this seeming serenity is nothing but a screen. Swinging right around, he throws Pecs a hostile glare; and I see his eyes darken eerily, the navy blue circles merging perfectly into those vivid green irises.
The intensity in these eyes intrigues me, so I have to do it. Just once more, I tell myself. Mentally I take a deep breath and start to probe, gently and as deep as I dare, but only for a few seconds. Alarm makes my nerves jump. The air around me suddenly thickens with a bizarre kind of power—restless with an uncontrolled aspect, like a tempest on the verge of breaking across a drought-stricken plain.
But most alarming is my instinct that this power is coming from Jarrod.
Mr. Garret’s expression changes from disbelief to accusation, his voice slick with impatience. I’ve heard it before. It’s how he copes when schoolboy pranks continually disrupt his lessons. “Not a good way to start your first day, Mr. Thornton. I hope this behavior is not indicative of things to come.” He’s trying to assert his authority, but who’s he kidding, really?
I lost sympathy for Mr. Garret when he started producing enough self-pity to drown in. And I know he’s become gutless lately, but to accuse and convict on the face of one lousy piece of suspect evidence is truly pathetic. Jarrod apparently agrees. His lips snap together as he inhales deeply through suddenly widened nostrils, fingers clenching into tight balls.
He’s losing it. Fast now.
The fluorescent lights are the first to go. They flicker uncontrollably, then fizz out with a simultaneous flash and hiss, as if struck by a sudden vicious power surge. No doubt they have been. But not the kind you get from a fault at a power station. The room darkens even though it’s still morning. Someone screams and everybody starts murmuring.
Mr. Garret, forgetting the shattered beaker incident, raises his hands. “Calm down, everyone. Remain seated while I go and see what’s happened to the power.”
Of course nobody pays attention to him, and as soon as he leaves the murmuring becomes frantic. It’s really strange how one minute the sky is cloudless on a brisk autumn morning, and now, with the lights off, it has transformed into an eerie twilight. Dark, thunderous-looking clouds roll toward us really fast, like a big hungry mouth gobbling up the soft blue sky and everything in its path.
“Look at the sky!” Dia Petoria yells from near a window.
Some people rush over but then everyone’s attention zooms back to Pecs. With Mr. Garret out of the room he’s decided to have another shot at Jarrod. “Such lovely hair,” he taunts, lifting some of it, letting it drift through his rugby-thick fingers. “Are you sure you’re not a girl, pretty boy?”
Jarrod moves once, jerking his head just out of Pecs’s reach. I marvel how he takes so much without retaliating. I would have lost my cool ages back, and thought about casting the first spell that flicked through my mind. I’ve never been able to master the art of shape-changing spells, but a sloth—hairy, slow, and weighing 440 pounds—would be appropriate right now. Pecs would make a good one. Instantly, visions of him hanging upside down in one of the giant eucalyptus trees that predominate the forest up here saunter through my subconscious, and I can’t help but smile. Thinking about changing Pecs into a sloth takes my mind off the encroaching storm. But just as suddenly it zeroes back as windows fling open on their own, vibrating with the force. Papers, pens, test tubes, Bunsen burners, and anything that moves lift off the benches, getting caught in the increasing wind, and start smashing against walls or other moving objects.
“What the hell!” Pecs, momentarily distracted, goes to close windows. So I’m surprised when, considering his size and strength, the windows still don’t budge.
Mr. Garret returns looking stunned. “What’s going on?” He soon collects himself, remembering, I guess, that he’s the teacher in charge, and starts yelling orders at us. “Hurry! Close those windows! This is apparently the only room that’s got a power problem. Where did this wind come from?”
He’s babbling a bit; I guess it is a little strange. I don’t understand it either. It feels unnatural.
“They’re stuck, sir!” Pecs yells over the gathering wind. I remember then that strange feeling I sensed earlier. This is it—or rather, the result of it—anger, dark and intense.
A couple of girls huddle together in a corner screaming. Others race around stupidly trying to collect their work, which is circling the room. One girl, sitting on the floor, wraps her arms around her knees and cries like a baby. Only Jarrod looks calm. He’s still sitting at his bench, and his eyes have gone really weird, like he’s staring at a ghost or something. Wind tears at his shirt, thrashing his long hair about his face. He has to notice this as it whips across his nose and eyes, but he remains unmoved.
Lightning flashes and I think everyone except Jarrod screams and buries their heads. It’s as if the lightning is right in the room with us. Without even getting our breaths back it flashes again, filling the room with a staggering light and the sound of a horrifying sizzle. Everyone screams as if in unison, clutching at each other and hitting the ground. Hannah grabs my arm just as thunder explodes so loudly it near deafens us all, her fingers digging so deeply her nails are going to leave holes in my skin. “What the…?”
I yank her hand off my arm. “I don’t know.”
“Then it’s not you doing this?”
I stare at her, shaking my head. “I can’t do this sort of thing.” I have to yell over the wind. “I’ve never been able to manipulate the weather, Han.” What I don’t add, as Hannah already knows, is that I try, and keep trying, to the point of driving myself mad with frustration. But I just don’t have that sort of power. My eyes shift to Jarrod and linger. He may not be aware of it, but Jarrod Thornton does.
Unfortunately, I don’t think he knows it, and certainly he has no control over it. These latter thoughts are scary.
Thunder roars as lightning and thunder follow each other in one continuous dramatic roll. Mr. Garret tries to calm the class. He wants us to leave, but his words are lost in the battle nature is having in his lab. Not knowing where this is going to end, I decide Mr. Garret’s idea is best.
“We have to get out of here!”
“What!” Hannah’s mouth moves but her words disappear, ravaged by the wind that has now accelerated into cyclonic mode.
I see other students at the door, seniors, being pushed back against the far wall. They look stunned and race off to get help.
Empty stools suddenly become dangerous projectiles. I duck out of one’s way and glance at Jarrod. He’s still sitting on his stool, staring into the face of the wind. He must be catatonic to do this without flinching. A window shatters, and, as if in slow motion, I watch as everyone hits the floor in self-protection. Everyone, that is, except Jarrod. He remains rigid in his seat, completely mesmerized, his eyes wide and vacant.
Inevitably, something hits him. A piece of jagged glass rips into the skin of his inside lower arm, then continues wind-driven across the room. Strangely enough it’s the catalyst that breaks the spell, or whatever it is. Suddenly the wind drops as if it never was, quietly disappearing, its work apparently done. The remaining jammed windows slide down and those threatening clouds roll briskly away.
For a whole thirty seconds there is complete stillness. I think the entire class is in shock. Slowly Mr. Garret comes round, organizing groups of students to attend to different tasks in a cleanup campaign. Jarrod still hasn’t moved, and I’m worried about this. He’s unbelievably pale, like you could only imagine someone might be if they were dead. Of course half the class doesn’t look much different, except Jarrod’s skin looks completely drained of blood. But it isn’t. Where the glass slashed his arm, rich red blobs have dripped onto the bench top.
Mr. Garret seems oblivious, apparently unaware of Jarrod’s injury. I push through the wrecked furniture and equipment to stand beside him. “Jarrod’s been hurt.” I sound defensive without meaning to and glance around for something to use on the bleeding arm. I spot a box of old rags, mostly just discarded clothing that’s been cut up to use in the lab to clean up spills and things. The wind has knocked it about, but after a quick hunt through the few remaining items, I find a clean-looking piece.
Mr. Garret’s eyes bulge at the sight of Jarrod’s blood. “Oh dear.” He sounds more like a blubbering fool than a man of thirty-nine. “You’d better get to the nurse’s office, boy, right away.”
I get the feeling the sooner Jarrod’s out of his classroom, the better Mr. Garret will feel. What a jerk. Looking around I guess he has his hands full putting the lab back together, but the condition of his students should come first. He looks so unsure of himself. It’s a relief, I think, when several other teaching and office staff arrive, shocked and outraged. As Mr. Garret calls them over and starts attempting to explain, I wrap the white cotton material tightly around Jarrod’s lower arm. I take his other hand and put it on top to keep the makeshift bandage from slipping and to stem the blood flow. “Keep it there until it stops bleeding,” I say.
His eyes look odd as they shift to mine, like he’s been off with the fairies. I try not to probe, it comes too naturally sometimes. Jillian’s always warning me to be careful. With Jarrod I’ll have to be even more so.
Mr. Garret shifts his gaze back to the one problem he knows he can get rid of quickly—Jarrod. “Off you go, boy. To the nurse’s office. Someone will look after you there.”
Jarrod slides off the stool. “I don’t know where it is,” he mutters, still holding the bandage.
“Er, um, oh dear,” Mr. Garret stammers, flicking his gaze around the room, looking for someone to take Jarrod to the nurse’s office. Meanwhile, I’m standing directly in front of him. “Yes, well, okay, I’ll just find someone…”
“I’ll take him.”
Mr. Garret’s eyes zoom back as if seeing me standing here for the first time, which doesn’t really surprise me. Teachers are used to seeing through me. I like it like that, so I don’t go out of my way to be noticed. But Mr. Garret was my form teacher last year, and came to Jillian’s shop to see for himself what all the rumors were about. Of course he found nothing suspicious or even remotely sinister. All the same, Jillian didn’t want him misconstruing her personal stuff. She didn’t show him inside her private rooms. No one goes there except me. Not even Hannah. “Of course, Kate. Good idea.” Mr. Garret glances at the white bandage, seeing it for the first time, and looks relieved. “Did you do that?”
I nod.
“Good girl. Now, off you go. And be careful where you walk.”
Jarrod follows me to the door, and as we step through it I hear Pecs’s sarcastic voice trail behind, “Be careful, pretty boy. Watch out for Scary Face. Don’t follow her into any broom closets! Oooh, I’m scared, I’m scared.”
Ha ha. Gee, I’m laughing.
Typically, the class roars with laughter. They have no thoughts of their own. He leads them like a pack of brainless sheep. An embarrassing chorus of wolf whistles follows us down the corridor.
A visitor from outer space comes to Stephen’s yard one night. It may look like a Dalmatian, but it certainly doesn’t act like one. At first, Stephen and the visitor get off on the wrong paw. They quibble over kibble, debate sleeping arrangements, and must abandon earth dogs’ approach to bathroom breaks altogether to keep the peace. Is a shared love of bacon a strong enough foundation for this ordinary earth boy and extraordinary out-of-this-world canine to learn to live in harmony?]]>
Cinnamon bun, I love you one. Peek-a-boo, I love you two...
This charming, rhyming picture book counts out the love between caregivers and children in small and touching moments. Come count to ten with your sweet little one!]]>
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In an unkind alternate past, somewhere between the Stone Age and a Metal Age, Tell and his sister Wren live in a small mountain village that makes its living off black glass mines and runs on brutal laws. When their father is blinded in a mining accident, the law dictates he has thirty days to regain his sight and be capable of working at the same level as before or be put to death.
Faced with this dire future, Tell and Wren make the forbidden treacherous journey to the legendary city of Halfway, halfway down the mountain, to trade their father’s haul of the valuable black glass for the medicine to cure him. The city, ruled by five powerful female sorcerers, at first dazzles the siblings. But beneath Halfway’s glittery surface seethes ambition, violence, prejudice, blackmail, and impending chaos.
Without knowing it, Tell and Wren have walked straight into a sorcerers’ coup. Over the next twelve days, they must scramble first to save themselves, then their new friends, as allegiances shift and prejudices crack open to show who has true power.]]>
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Tell and Wren, Seka’s two children, had no idea of the risk he was about to take for them. They were far away on the mountainside, hunting for dinner. And dinner had just served itself up, if they could catch it.
In a jumble of boulders above them, the very tip of a narrow ear flashed pink for a moment, backlit by the low sun. There! That was all Tell needed to see. He already had an arrow nocked to the string because he always did when they were out hunting.
Just below him on the path, Wren knew by the way her brother stopped and curled his scarred fingers to the bow that he’d seen something worth taking. She had a good idea what it was. When he turned to her, she wiggled two fingers above her head, making rabbit ears. He shrugged yes. Wren pulled a face. Ugh! Mountain jackrabbits were lean and tough, like every living thing up there, including themselves.
Wren tapped her chest, pointed upward. Tell nodded and took off up the path, as silent as smoke. Even at fourteen, he was one of the best hunters in the village and brought in most of the meat they ate. He could’ve taken the jackrabbit by himself, but this way was quicker. Also, they liked working together.
Instead of circling back along the trail, Wren climbed straight up the low cliff separating them from the terrace above. The way she scaled the rock wall made it look as easy as walking, and for her it was. She was born to it. As a baby, she’d climbed the stone walls inside their hut as soon as she was old enough to pull herself upright. She had long, strong fingers, plus a jagged scar on her leg from a fall when she was just three. But then, everyone in their village had scars of some kind.
Wren was barely breathing hard when she slid up over the cliff edge onto the rocky terrace. She stayed on her belly until she heard the grinding sound of the jackrabbit chewing on a mouthful of spiny grass.
She stood up slowly and calmly, looking everywhere but at the jackrabbit, because all animals can feel eyes on them, especially animals that are hunted regularly. Then, not bothering to muffle her footsteps, she walked across the terrace—not toward the jackrabbit, just away from the cliff edge.
The jackrabbit stood up on its back legs, instantly alert. Wren sighed. This one was particularly skinny. A gamey old male. She could tell by the shape of his underslung jaw, even with just one fleeting sideways glance.
Because she wasn’t looking directly at it, and because she wasn’t getting any closer, the jackrabbit didn’t flee instantly; it stayed upright, alert and ready to bolt if necessary.
Not alert enough, not ready enough.
The hiss-thud of an arrow let her know that her brother’s shot had found its target. She finally looked directly at the jackrabbit as it succumbed with hardly a twitch.
“Not a bad shot,” Wren teased.
“I like it when they don’t know what happened to them.” Tell nodded. He knew a good hunter made sure his prey didn’t suffer. Plus, the meat tasted better that way.
There was no question they were brother and sister. They shared the same generous mouths and prominent, fine-bridged noses, a very visible part of their family inheritance. They’d been teased endlessly when they were younger. Is that a mountain peak or your nose? Be careful of that blade on your face; it might cut somebody! But as they grew older and bigger, their noses became less of a landmark and more just… interesting.
“Are you coming back down?” Wren asked as she slung the still-warm animal around her neck and tied its feet together with a twist of grass.
A familiar scowl settled across Tell’s angular face, one that had been there for almost two years. He pointed up the mountain, away from the village. “I’ll try for more,” he said, then set off without looking back. Wren sadly watched him go. She knew that hunting was just his excuse to stay away, especially that day. But she had no such excuse.
She headed back fast, leaping from rock to rock until she reached the edge of the canyon. She paused to look down at the village directly below, her entire world, her entire life so far, all twelve years of it.
This was her favorite view, and in truth she scarcely had to look, she knew it so well and it changed so little. About thirty or so familiar stone huts were arranged along both walls of the canyon, at a place where it widened slightly and an ice-cold spring gurgled from a crack in the rock. The huts faced each other at various angles, depending on the vagaries of the rock, and they’d been built in all sorts of shapes. Her village had many rules, but none about the shape of your house. The rock determined that.
The huts all leaned against the canyon wall for the strength to withstand winter’s heavy snow. With the canyon behind them, thick rock walls all around, and slate roofs above their heads, theirs was a life lived in stone, most of it cold. No trees worth the name grew this high. The timbers that supported their roofs had been carried up the mountain one by one long ago and were by far the most valuable part of any home.
Wren and Tell’s was a sturdy rectangle on the high side of the village. Seeing it always gave her a solid feeling. It got more sunlight than any other, especially late in the day, and Wren was proud that it was considered one of the most comfortable and well built in the village. The small summer garden she’d started years ago with her mother had gone to seed and, looking down on it, Wren made a mental note to gather the seeds before the first snow arrived. It would be soon, she knew, and once it arrived, their world of rock would become a world buried in snow and ice.
Voices bounced up the rock from below, clear as bells in the thin air, and Wren recognized every single one, no matter their age. Little kids were yelling or crying as they played one of their endless games, which usually ended when someone threw a stone and someone else didn’t duck fast enough. Women were shouting at the children and across the canyon at their friends. Or enemies. There was an extra edge to their voices today. They should’ve rung with excitement and urgency because the mules were being readied for the long journey down to Halfway, but instead, Wren heard frustration, anger, and envy in the women’s voices, and she knew exactly why. Because, for the second year in a row, they weren’t going.
As for the men, she didn’t hear any of them; it was too early. But their mules were tethered outside every door, ready for loading. Small, strong, sure-footed, and mostly mean mountain mules.
Except for Rumble. Wren smiled when she saw him waiting outside her own door—the oldest mule in the village and, by far, the smartest. He wasn’t tethered. He didn’t have to be. He knew what was about to happen. He knew where he was supposed to be, and why.
Her eyes traveled automatically up the canyon to where it bent away from her. She couldn’t see around the bend, but she didn’t have to. She knew what was there: the reason for their existence, the origin of their name—the vein of black glass that some forgotten ancestor had found long ago. So much of it had been carved away over the years that the glass now lived at the end of a gleaming tunnel inside the mountain.
Movement! Small as an ant, the first of the men came around the canyon bend and headed quickly down the path back to the village, carrying the last of his season’s haul, in a hurry to wrap it for the journey.
Without warning or hesitation, Wren stepped forward into thin air and dropped from sight, leaving no sign that she’d ever been there.
But she hadn’t jumped to her death. Arms wide, her strong, slender body under control, her knees bent, she hit the steep scree beneath the canyon edge and rode a wave of small stones down to the floor with dinner bouncing on her shoulders: her own personal little landslide. It was dangerous, it was fast, and it was thrilling. It also got her back to the cooking fire well before her father arrived.
But Wren needn’t have hurried. Seka stayed later at the mine face than almost all the others, waiting for the quiet needed to try for the sorcerer’s glass. To the People of the Black Glass, the vein was like earth’s dark blood frozen forever. It belonged to them and them only, guarded by their remote, harsh location and their reputation for savagery.
A few men lingered at the mouth of the tunnel, but Seka finally had the mine face to himself. He removed his pika fur coat, folded it, and put it on the ground below the vein to cushion the piece when it fell. He took a few breaths to focus himself, then raised his hands and snugged his antler chisel into the promising crevice, angling it just so. He drew his hardwood mallet back all the way. But instead of turning his face away before striking, as he had been taught and taught to others and always did himself, he looked full on to the chisel and held his one-eyed gaze there, so that he could use all his strength for the blow.
“Guide my hand,” Seka prayed to the gods of the mountain. He struck hard, and the last thing he saw was a perfect slab peeling from the vein, just before a stray sliver the size of a wasp’s sting shot into his good eye. He dropped to the floor next to his fur coat, screaming in pain, instantly blind, knowing he was as dead as if the sliver had taken him in the heart.
When an ambitious rodeo contractor comes to town, Sam’s worried. The woman wants to buy tamed mustangs from local ranchers, including Sam’s dad, and doesn’t seem to take no for an answer.
Then Sam spots the Phantom’s herd—without him. She’s sure he’s been captured by the rodeo, but how will she find him? And if she does, how can she set him free?]]>
IN RIVER BEND’S BIG PASTURE, the horses waited for rain. Cottonwood branches danced overhead, but instead of rustling, the dry leaves clacked. The horses stood with heads up and nostrils wide, searching for a trace of moisture on the breeze.
Across the dirt driveway, near the house, Sam did the same. She stood in the vegetable garden, where she was supposed to be turning over dirt to mix parched cornstalks and empty vines with the earth. Instead, she leaned on her shovel and wished she’d brought a water bottle outside with her.
Two sparrows dove for a worm her digging had uncovered. The birds cheeped and quarreled, then flew off in a flurry of feathers, leaving the lucky worm untouched.
Sam looked skyward. The sun was sealed down by a lid of gray clouds.
Irritated whinnies and the thud of hooves came from the big pasture. Banjo, Dad’s roping horse, bolted across the sparse grass. Teeth bared, Strawberry sprinted after him.
Except for a few hammering rainstorms that ran off the drought-hardened land, it hadn’t rained since spring. Now it was October. Every creature was edgy with waiting.
More hooves thudded inside the round pen, but these made a soothing sound, just like the voice that directed them.
“Other way,” Jake said. “Good horse.”
Friday after school, Jake had mounted Teddy Bear for the first time. Now it was Saturday morning, and the colt was already responding to the bit and reins.
The morning quiet didn’t last for long. Blaze burst barking from the barn, and Sam noticed a plume of dust approaching the ranch. The roar of an overtaxed engine told her who was driving even before the beige Cadillac crossed the bridge too fast and skidded into the ranch yard.
Sam dropped the shovel. For their neighbor Linc Slocum, everything was a crisis. Still, it was always possible it was a real emergency.
The Cadillac’s horn blared, even though Gram had already appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Dallas, the ranch foreman, had emerged from the shady barn, blinking against the sunlight.
Jake slipped out of the round corral and beat everyone to Slocum’s side.
“Rachel’s missing,” Linc said as Sam got close enough to hear.
Gram patted Linc’s arm as the man removed his oversized cowboy hat and sighed.
“I don’t know what to think,” he explained. “I’d just got back from riding with Jed.” Linc scanned faces, making sure they recognized the name of Jed Kenworthy, his foreman. “But he stayed out with the other hands and I came back. Otherwise I sure would’ve got him helping me.”
“How long has she been gone?” Gram asked.
“Hard to say. Let’s see.” Linc squinted as he tried to recall. “When I got back home, Rachel was lazing around her suite, and then I had a snack and after that I sorta dozed off.” He shook his head. “I’d say at least a coupla hours.”
Sam’s eyes slid toward Jake. Jake was only sixteen, but he spotted trouble better than anyone Sam knew. And he didn’t look worried. In fact, when he crossed his arms over his belt buckle, he seemed to be telling Linc to get to the point.
“Thing is,” Slocum said, sounding as if he were about to make a confession, “she was perturbed about something. In fact, she’s been sort of put out—say, how long has it been since I had the rodeo stock contractor over to the house?” Slocum mused a minute. “All week. Yessir.” Linc sounded amazed. “She’s been perturbed all week long.”
For an instant, Sam wondered how he could tell perturbation from Rachel’s usual attitude, but then she understood his amazement. How could Rachel be dissatisfied for a full week? She wore the finest clothes and makeup. A driver took her to school in a baby-blue Mercedes-Benz, and her bedroom suite included a hot tub and state-of-the-art entertainment systems.
Rachel was her father’s princess, and she pretty much ruled Darton High School as well. Her face, hair, and figure might have been composed by a computer designing the perfect girl.
Too bad no one had pushed the button marked PERSONALITY, Sam thought.
“Could the stock contractor have said something to upset her?” Gram asked.
“No, no way.” Linc actually blushed. “We were cutting a deal for my Brahmas, that’s all.”
Did Linc redden because the stock contractor had rejected his bulls? City-bred Slocum really didn’t know what he was doing when it came to animals, Sam thought. He just liked playing cowboy.
“Where do you think she’s got off to?” Dallas asked. He sounded more sympathetic than Sam felt.
“Did she take a car?” Jake added. Though Rachel didn’t have a driver’s license, she wouldn’t let such a formality stop her.
“No, she didn’t, and no one came to pick her up or I would’ve heard tires.” Linc wedged a thumb into the tooled leather belt that strained around his middle. “But my horse is missing too.”
“Why would she take Champ? Rachel hates horses,” Sam blurted.
“Well, now—” Slocum frowned.
“She does,” Sam insisted. “She says they’re dumb and dirty, and she can’t understand why anyone likes them.”
Gram made a cautioning sound, but Sam knew she was right.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Slocum, but she told me all that herself.”
“My ex-wife made the twins ride for three hours every day when they were little,” Slocum said. “Ryan took to it and Rachel didn’t. Maybe that’s why he’s in England. Now that his mom’s married that baron, or whatever he is, they have stables packed with horses.”
Slocum sounded wistful. For about two seconds, Sam felt sorry for him. Then she remembered the spade bit he used on Champ, his gentle-natured palomino. In the hands of an excellent rider, the bit could work. Hauled on by an angry girl who didn’t like horses, that bit could do terrible damage to Champ’s tender mouth.
“Let’s go find her,” Sam said.
“I’ll be glad to pay—” Slocum began.
“Land sakes, Linc, will you hush?” Gram snapped. One of her hands darted out as if she wanted to give Slocum a pinch. Instead, she shook her finger at him. “We’ll help because we’re neighbors, not because you have money.”
Gram took Western neighborliness seriously. Her tirade made Linc look sheepish.
“Wyatt’s checking the herd with Ross and Pepper,” Gram said, “but the rest of us will saddle up. I don’t imagine she’s gone far. Have you called over to the Elys’?”
Gram gestured toward the Three Ponies Ranch, Jake’s home.
“No,” Linc said. “I think Rachel would be embarrassed. Mainly I came for Jake.”
Jake shrugged modestly. Sam wished she had a skill she could be humble about. Jake was a first-rate tracker. Local ranchers, the Bureau of Land Management, and even the sheriff’s department knew it.
“Sure,” Jake said. His eyes darted skyward at a rumble of far-off thunder. “I’d want to start at your ranch, though.”
“You do that,” Gram said. “And, Linc, we’ll go up the ridge trail, since it runs behind your place, ours, and Three Ponies.” Gram removed her apron and started for the barn and her mare, Sweetheart.
“Hop in, Jake.” Slocum gestured toward the Cadillac, but Jake glanced at the round corral, where Teddy Bear stood saddled and curious.
“I’ll take care of the colt,” Dallas said. “You go on.”
Sam bit her lip. Jake had teased her forever, calling her a tagalong brat, but she couldn’t help it. “I’d really like to watch you track,” she said.
Jake didn’t reply. Did he suspect she also wanted to see Rachel uncomfortable?
Sam stared hard at the back of Jake’s head as he unstrapped the short, fringed chaps called chinks and slung them over the top rail of the corral.
Finally, her brain waves must have penetrated his thick skull.
“You might as well come.” He didn’t even look her way. “Rachel might not be so embarrassed with you there.”
He was right, Sam thought as she climbed into the Cadillac’s back seat. She brought out Rachel’s natural snobbishness. Rachel couldn’t believe there were people who actually liked “the little cowgirl,” as she called Sam.
Sam tightened her seat belt, as Linc Slocum drove fast and recklessly. If he was so worried, why hadn’t he gone looking for Rachel himself?
Jake grabbed an armrest as Slocum swerved around a turn. Sam hoped Linc wouldn’t hit anything. She’d hate to miss a chance to see Rachel in trouble. After the mean things Rachel had said and done, it would be sort of satisfying to see her squirm.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Rachel wouldn’t be punished for causing Linc to worry, and Sam knew why. When they found Rachel, she wouldn’t be sunburned or dusty. Every hair would be in place, and she’d blame someone else for her troubles.
When they reached Slocum’s Gold Dust Ranch, he surprised them by saying he wouldn’t come along.
“I’ll stay by the phone,” he said. “You just take any horses you want. The tack shed’s over there.”
Any other time, Sam would have rejoiced. The Gold Dust Ranch was home to dozens of expensive and beautiful horses. But Jake was in a hurry. He flashed her a look that said she’d better not knock on the door to the foreman’s house and tell her best friend, Jen Kenworthy, what was happening.
Sam and Jake took the mounts easiest to catch, then rode past Linc Slocum’s pillared mansion and up the ridge trail.
The mare Sam rode was a sturdy paint with a scar on one knee. Jake’s horse was a bay Thoroughbred she’d seen Slocum ride only once before.
Jake rode automatically, attention directed toward the dirt as if he could read it like a book.
“Tell me how you do it,” Sam urged after about ten minutes.
“Noon’s the hardest time to track,” Jake said as they rode side by side. “With the sun directly overhead, tracks just disappear. See how there are no shadows in the hoofprints?”
Jake didn’t slow his horse as he pointed. Sam looked down. The ground looked bare as concrete. Except for a few drought cracks, she saw nothing.
“What hoofprints?”
Jake smiled. “Never mind. We don’t have to look for clues, just a horse.”
Sam didn’t like Jake’s superior smile any more than she liked the sweat trickling down the back of her neck.
“Don’t tell me ‘never mind,’?” she insisted. “Tell me what to do, so when I have to come looking for you, it won’t take so long.”
This time Jake laughed aloud. “Dreamer.”
Sam glared at him, but Jake wasn’t looking. He told her how to judge the age of a print and the weight or speed with which it had been made, but then he went back to reading the earth, as if she’d interrupted him while he was reading a good book.
They rode in silence for a while, and Sam welcomed the sounds of thudding hooves and the gabbling conversation of two ravens that passed overhead. She hadn’t seem the Phantom for weeks, but here in his world, she could daydream about him.
Everything reminded her of the great silver stallion. The rocks and ridges around her seemed painted with his shadow. When she heard the rasp of a tool from Slocum’s ranch down below, it sounded like the Phantom’s neigh of surprise.
As the trail twisted around the mountain, rising higher, Sam looked down on River Bend Ranch and the silver-brown glitter of the river. The stallion’s vast territory spread from here to the Calico Mountains. She looked east, past War Drum Flats. That wisp of white on the mountain was probably a thin curl of cloud, but it could be the Phantom’s windblown mane and tail.
Jake must have taken her silence for pouting, because he reined in the Thoroughbred and started an exasperated lecture, as if she’d been silently begging him to do it.
“Okay, if Rachel had been lost overnight,” Jake said, “there’d be more of us in the search party. We’d form groups, divide up the area, and check each section on foot. Or maybe we’d use airplanes and ATVs. We’d check every little splinter road….”
Jake’s voice trailed off as something drew his attention away from the trail and down the hillside toward a clump of brush.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Nothing. And since the horse—and not Rachel—is probably in charge, he’ll stick to the path, where the footing is easy. Here, look at this.” Jake reined his horse back the way they’d come and dismounted.
He walked along, pointing. “See, the hoofprints are pretty close together and pretty distinct, and then there’s this big mishmash of tracks.”
Sam climbed off the paint, squatted next to Jake, and stared. Finally she saw horseshoe prints, one on top of the other. “Yeah,” she said.
“Something scared Champ. I’m thinking maybe deer, down in that brush. Rachel probably wouldn’t think of trying to pet him and calm him down. So he stayed scared, she couldn’t handle him, and look—” Jake pointed to widespread hoofprints. “He’s running, kind of off-balance, and pretty soon we’ll see where she fell.”
“How can you be so sure? Linc said she had riding lessons.”
“Well, she’s forgotten what she learned.” Jake’s finger moved through the air. “Champ’s veering left, right, all over the place. She’s jerking him around. Pretty soon he’ll get sick of it, or the bit will hurt enough that he’ll decide the deal is off.”
With horses, it was all about trust. That was what Sam had been taught since she was old enough to listen. Dad said horses were big, strong animals who agreed to do what you wanted them to do as long as you knew what you were doing.
Rachel clearly wasn’t doing her part.
Suddenly, Sam could see where Champ had balked. Four hoofprints were planted in a square, as if someone had used a kitchen table like a stamp.
“Bet she went over his head,” Jake muttered as they remounted.
They’d ridden only a few minutes when the trail split. Jake chose the path that slanted down and left. Soon Rachel’s voice, distinctive because of its faint English accent, soared toward them.
“Get away from me, horse. Away, I said, or you’ll be sorry.”
Jake gave Sam a smug look, congratulating himself on picking the right path, just as Rachel stormed into view.
Her coffee-colored hair lay in a shiny wing across her forehead. She wore a red silk blouse and tan boots that looked as soft as the nose of the palomino following her.
But Rachel’s designer jeans were ripped to show bloody knees, and the palm pushing her hair back looked raw, as if she’d used her hands to break her fall.
“Rachel, are you okay?” Sam asked.
Rachel stopped. Champ halted behind her, though his bobbing head said he wanted to touch noses with the other horses.
“Aren’t you rather far from your ‘spread’?” Rachel’s lips twisted as if Sam and Jake were viruses that had escaped from a lab.
She didn’t seem happy to be rescued. Jake darted a glance at Sam. She didn’t think he was surprised by Rachel’s ingratitude. Then he frowned past Sam, toward the mountains.
Maybe if Rachel understood the worry she’d caused, she’d be nicer.
“Your dad was afraid you were lost, so we came looking for you,” Sam explained. “My grandmother and Dallas are searching too.”
“Clearly, I am not lost.” Rachel understood, all right. She just didn’t care.
“Sorry for interrupting your walk,” Sam said, pretending to turn the paint mare back toward the Gold Dust Ranch.
“I’m not lost,” Rachel said loudly, “but I am frustrated with this horse. He wouldn’t let me remount after I, um, climbed down to admire the view.”
The only view Rachel had been admiring was one of the earth rushing up to meet her hands and knees, but Sam didn’t say so.
Rachel stumbled forward as Champ nuzzled her backbone. The horse wasn’t holding a grudge, but Rachel was. She whirled around to scold him just as Jake leaned toward Sam and whispered, “Don’t look behind you.”
When they were little, Sam had told Jake he had “mustang eyes.” Sometimes the label still fit. Dark brown, half-wild, and hypnotic, his eyes managed to hold hers now, but barely.
Behind Sam, the trail dropped off to a steep hillside. What was there? She hadn’t heard the whir of a rattlesnake, but it could be a cougar or a bear. Sam felt an almost irresistible pull to do the opposite of what Jake had ordered.
“I’m going to do something loud and obnoxious.” Jake barely moved his lips. “Then you can look. Got it?”
Sam nodded, but it was Rachel who spoke first.
“It’s hardly polite, talking about me in whispers.” Rachel faced them with one eyebrow arched.
“Not going to be using that horse anymore? Is that what you said?” Jake asked.
Rachel looked a little sickly. “If you could just hold him while I get back up—”
“No need,” Jake said. He forced his horse forward, made a loud coyote yip, and slapped his hat on Champ’s hindquarters.
The palomino bolted past, headed toward home, away from Rachel’s squeal of outrage.
And that was when Sam looked.
Hidden up to his shoulder in a thicket of sagebrush, the Phantom was watching them. His perfect Arab ears were pricked to catch Sam’s voice, but his intelligent eyes surveyed the scene and judged it too risky for approach.
Still, he didn’t flee. Instead, the stallion tossed his thick white mane in greeting, and his eyes were set on Sam.
Ellie is so not the pageant type. They’re Coralee’s thing, and Ellie is happy to let her talented friend shine in the spotlight. But what’s she supposed to do when Coralee asks her to enter a beauty pageant, and their other best friend, Bert, volunteers to be their manager? Then again, how else is she going to get through this summer with her dad, who barely knows her, while her mom is off on her honeymoon with Ellie’s amazing gym teacher? Ellie decides she has nothing to lose.
There’s only one problem: the director of the pageant seems determined to put Ellie and her wheelchair front and center. So it’s up to Ellie to figure out a way to do it on her own terms and make sure her friendships don’t fall apart along the way. Through it all, from thrift store deep dives to disastrous dance routines, she begins to form her own definition of beauty and what it means to really be seen.]]>
Time to Roll
By Jamie Sumner
About the Book
It’s going to be a long summer for twelve-year-old Ellie Cowan. Ellie’s mom just married Ellie’s favorite teacher and physical therapist, and they’re about to leave on a six-week honeymoon. That would be great news, except they’re leaving Ellie with her absentee dad while they’re gone. Ellie’s dad hardly knows her, and she hates that he treats her like she’s fragile because she uses a wheelchair. Plus, her two half-brothers create chaos in the house.
So, when Ellie’s best friend, Coralee, asks for Ellie’s help winning the Little Miss Boots and Bows pageant, Ellie agrees (even though pageants make her squirm). Coralee needs her, and at least the pageant will keep her out of the house and away from her dad. Things take a surprising turn, though, when the pageant director pressures Ellie to enter the pageant too. Ellie hates being in the spotlight, but being treated like an invalid by the director—and her dad—is even worse. Ellie decides to compete in the pageant, but can she find a way to do it on her own terms? And will her friendship with Coralee survive the competition?
Discussion Questions
1. Ellie, Coralee, and Bert are all very different from each other, but become best friends anyway. What do you think draws them to one another? Do you have a best friend or friends? How are you similar and different? Why are you drawn to one another?
2. In what ways are Bert, Coralee, and Ellie different from other kids? Have you ever felt like you were different from most of the people around you? What made you feel that way?
3. Who was your favorite character in this novel? Why? If you read Roll with It, who was your favorite character in that novel? If you had a different favorite character in each book, explain why your feelings changed.
4. Even though Ellie and Bert are not beauty pageant fans, they agree to help Coralee with the pageant. Why do they do this? Have you ever done something like this for a friend, or has a friend ever done something like this for you? What was it? How did it turn out?
5. Ellie thinks that “Coralee’s got her own kind of deep magic. But she’s determined not to see it until a committee tells her it’s true.” (Chapter fourteen) What does she mean by this? In what ways does Ellie think Coralee is magical? Why can’t Coralee see it herself?
6. When Coralee and Ellie get in a fight, they both end up saying things they regret later. What do they fight about? Why do you think they say mean things to each other? How do Ellie and Coralee eventually make up?
7. After Ellie and Coralee fight, Mema tells Ellie, “‘You only get one or two really good friends in a lifetime. I mean the kind that stick around through thick and thin and fightin’ and fun. One or two. Three, if you’re lucky. That’s it.’” (Chapter sixteen) How do you think a person can tell when they’ve found this type of friend?
8. Ellie says, “The thing about cerebral palsy is that I’ve lived with it every day of my life, so I’m used to it. But to the rest of the world, it’s a surprise. And not usually a good one.” (Chapter three) What does Ellie means by this? In what ways do people treat Ellie differently from other kids?
9. At the first Little Miss Boots and Bows Pageant rehearsal with Coralee, Ellie gets angry when the pageant director, Rae Ann, touches her wheelchair without permission. Why is this such an important boundary for Ellie?
10. People with disabilities are often treated differently because of stereotypes about what they are and are not capable of doing. Give some examples of this happening to Ellie from the novel. Why do you think people do this? What are some ways that you can work against these kinds of stereotypes?
11. Early in the book, Ellie thinks, “There is nothing, I repeat nothing, as satisfying as blasting through walls that were made to hold you back.” (Chapter three) What does Ellie mean by this? What walls has Ellie had to blast through? Have you ever had to blast through walls that were meant to hold you back? Explain.
12. Ellie thinks that pageants are almost like “cults” and doesn’t approve of them. Why does Ellie decide to do the pageant anyway? Why are pageants so important to Coralee?
13. After the pageant director’s attempt to set up a wheelchair ramp for Ellie ends in disaster, Ellie thinks, “It’s the roll of shame. Except they should be ashamed, not me—Rae Ann and Coralee and all of them with their deep looks of concern and not an ounce of understanding.” (Chapter eleven) What does Ellie mean by this? What don’t Coralee and Rae Ann understand?
14. After the incident with the wheelchair ramp, Ellie vows never to go back to the pageant. Coralee, however, says “‘This was just a teensy bump.’” (Chapter eleven) Why do you think Coralee can’t see the problem? How does it make Ellie feel?
15. Ellie’s new friend Maya tells her, “‘Life is a test. Make sure you take it on your own terms.’” (Chapter eighteen) What does Maya mean by this? What does it look like to take life on your own terms? Why do you think Maya shares this with Ellie?
16. What does Ellie do during the talent portion of the pageant? Were you surprised? Why do you think she chooses this as her talent? How do her friends and family react?
17. How does baking make Ellie feel? What in your life makes you feel like this?
18. Ellie believes that “Good food can . . . smooth over all the moods.” (Chapter eight) Do you agree with this statement? In what ways does good food help in your life?
19. What is Ellie’s relationship like with her dad? How is it different from Ellie’s relationship with her mom? Do you ever struggle to relate to your parents or other adults in your life? Why? How do you navigate that?
20. Ellie believes her dad thinks she’s “pathetic.” Do you think she’s right? Do you think Ellie’s dad is as bad as she thinks he is? Provide evidence from the book to support your answer.
21. Ellie claims that she is “the opposite of a needy kid . . . fully self-sufficient.” (Chapter four) Is she? Do you think anyone is fully self-sufficient? Explain.
22. If you’ve read the first book in the series, Roll with It, how do you think Ellie has changed since that book? How is she the same?
Extension Activities
1. In Time to Roll, Ellie discovers that the theater where the Little Miss Boots and Bows Pageant is held is not accessible for her wheelchair. Research what is needed to make a space accessible for people in wheelchairs (or another disability of your choice). Then, create a poster or report assessing the accessibility of important places in your community: your school, your local park, the grocery store, YMCA, etc. If you’d like, you can include video clips or photographs in your report.
2. Throughout both Roll with It and Time to Roll, Ellie writes letters to famous bakers. Discuss with a partner or small group why you think Ellie does this. Then write a letter to a public figure who is important to you.
3. Design your own beauty pageant. What would you call your pageant? What events would it have? What do you think are the key things that show you someone is worthy of being celebrated? Create a poster advertising your pageant.
4. Choose a supporting character from the book and write a short story about an event in that person’s life: Coralee, Maya, Bert, Mema, Ellie’s mom, etc. Be sure to think about what your chosen character is like as a person, what’s important to them, and what challenges they might face.
5. Imagine you are Bert or Coralee. Write a letter to a friend describing your friend Ellie. If you’d like, you can draw or paint a picture of Ellie to include with your letter.
6. Create a “book commercial” encouraging other kids to read Time to Roll. You can do this either as a poster or a video. Be sure to give potential readers a good sense of what the book is about and why they will enjoy reading it.
7. The pageant director, Rae Ann, calls Ellie her “role model” because “‘She might be wheelchair-bound, but she gets up there on that stage and works just as hard as the rest of them.’” (Chapter eighteen) Ellie is deeply offended by this: “Wheelchair-bound? Is she kidding me? Like my chair is some torture device instead of the means of freedom that lets me navigate my entire life?” Research the technology available to assist people with disabilities today, and then write an essay about the ways that technology can help people with disabilities navigate the world.
Chris Clark is a writer and reading teacher who lives with her family in coastal Maine.
This guide has been provided by Simon & Schuster for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes.]]>
Big plans are afoot! Butterbean is going to become a therapist (unless maybe she means a therapy dog?). The white cat is going to do a commercial for caviar-flavored pet treats. And Wallace is moving into a great new apartment. But these plans don’t include a group of rowdy raccoons taking over the loading dock and throwing the building into turmoil.
Now residents from the whole building are coming to the Strathmore Seven for help—from Second Floor Biscuit, a Yorkie with an unfortunate haircut who faces eviction for barking at the intruders, to the loading dock rats, who are feeling intimidated and upset. And even worse, Madison gets blamed for the vandalism! It’s up to Butterbean and the rest of the pets to stop the raccoons and restore their friend’s reputation—before it’s too late.]]>
Dave Mottramis an illustrator living in Ohio who worked as a graphic designer for many years, which led him to pursue his passion for illustration. He paints traditionally and digitally with color and layers and line. He loves tacos, animals, tikis, and nerding out over art supplies. Visit him at DaveMottram.com.]]>
BUTTERBEAN LIKED TO THINK THAT nothing could shock her. She’d been part of an International Crime Syndicate, after all. She was an experienced Ghost Investigator. But this? Nothing had prepared her for this.
Mrs. Food had been eating tuna fish for the past five minutes and hadn’t offered her a bite once. NOT EVEN ONCE.
Butterbean scooted forward until her chin was practically in Mrs. Food’s lap. Maybe Mrs. Food just hadn’t seen her. That was the only logical explanation.
“You’re not getting any, Bean,” Mrs. Food said, her mouth full. “Stop begging.”
Butterbean fell backward in shock. BEGGING? As if a Ghost Investigator would resort to BEGGING. She was simply making herself available. Staying open to opportunities. And if that opportunity happened to be a mouthful of tuna fish, so be it.
Walt stopped licking her paw and looked over at the crumpled pile of what used to be Butterbean. “Do I even want to know?” she asked Oscar.
Oscar opened his beak to answer and then reconsidered. He shook his head. “No.”
“For the record, I was NOT begging,” Butterbean grumbled, picking herself up and stomping over to the living room. “I was very restrained.”
“It’s true!” Polo called from the rat cage. “I saw the whole thing!”
“Me too,” Marco said, climbing up onto the water bottle. “Oooh, you know what this calls for? I think this calls for an investigation!”
“Yes!” Polo narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t Mrs. Food give Butterbean any of her tuna fish? Very suspicious, if you ask me. Mysterious, even.”
“Yeah! Mysterious!” Marco agreed. “We should definitely investigate.”
Oscar groaned. There hadn’t been much to investigate since they’d solved the mysterious haunting of Apartment 5B, it was true. But that didn’t mean the rats hadn’t tried. There had been the mysterious case of Madison’s missing hairbrush. (It fell behind the bed.) Mrs. Food’s suspicious behavior involving a series of mysterious and very short phone calls. (Telemarketer.) And the mysterious disappearance of Walt’s favorite seafood treats. (Chad ate them. He was an octopus they knew who lived on the eighth floor. And to be honest, he was usually behind any mysterious food disappearances.) Oscar was beginning to think that the rats didn’t really understand the meaning of the word “mysterious.”
“That’s not a mystery,” Oscar said. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Are we sure, though?” Polo asked. “Seems kind of mysterious to me.”
“Maybe we should investigate why it isn’t mysterious,” Marco said thoughtfully.
“Maybe we should investigate why you want to investigate everything,” Walt said, resuming her paw licking. “Begging isn’t allowed. Mystery solved.”
“I WAS NOT BEGGING!” Butterbean barked. “I WAS WATCHING CLOSELY.”
Walt rolled her eyes. “Fine. Watching closely is also not allowed. Not at mealtimes.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Marco said. Walt was an amazing investigator.
“You know,” Oscar said thoughtfully. “Since there aren’t any crimes going on, I think it might be time for us to officially retire.”
“Retire?” Marco gasped. “You mean retire retire?” As far as he was concerned, being an investigator was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Well, that and being part of an International Crime Syndicate. Not many rats had that kind of résumé.
“Can you even retire from being an investigator?” Polo asked.
“I think we can,” Oscar said. “Besides, we have lots of other things to do now. I, for one, am thinking of improving my Human language skills. How does this sound?” He cleared his throat. “Quiet, Oscar!” He looked around expectantly. “That was me being Mrs. Food, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“I could tell,” Butterbean said. She’d heard Mrs. Food say that a lot.
Walt raised one eyebrow. “Impressive.”
Polo shot Marco a look. “Um, yeah. It sounded just like her.”
“Like looking in a mirror!” Marco piped up. “Or, no. I mean…”
“OOOHHH! Do the elevator lady voice next!” Butterbean said, wagging her tail. She loved the voice in the elevator that told you what floor you were on.
“It’s just a little something I’ve been working on,” Oscar said, preening. “I still need more practice.”
“What needs more practice?” Wallace, a wild rat who used to live in the vents, peeked around the edge of the sofa to make sure it was all clear.
“We’re talking about retiring from the investigating business,” Polo explained. “We’ve all got lots of other things to do. Oscar is going to work on his Human language skills.”
“Yeah,” Marco said. “And me and Polo, we’re, um…” He hesitated, looking around the cage. “Well, these seeds aren’t going to sort themselves,” he said, staring at the scattered seeds doubtfully.
“And I’m going to be a therapist!” Butterbean said.
Everyone stared at her.
Wallace shot a look at Polo, who shrugged. “Um, sure, okay,” Wallace said finally. “Well, I’m super busy too. I finally moved out of Apartment 5B and set up my sleeping bag behind the couch in 7C.” Wallace had used one of Madison’s pom-pom socks as a sleeping bag during a stakeout once, and he may have forgotten to give it back. It was one of his prized possessions.
“Wait, 7C? Mrs. Power Walker’s apartment? Are you moving there for sure?” Butterbean asked. Mrs. Power Walker was one of Butterbean’s favorite residents in the Strathmore Building. She was always really friendly in the elevator, pushing buttons when needed and never asking questions. The perfect neighbor.
Wallace shrugged. “I’m not ready to move my collection of lost keys in or anything, but it looks promising. She leaves a bowl of milk out every night, so that’s a plus. She says it’s for the brownies. I think that’s a kind of fairy,” Wallace explained.
“No, brownies are like cookies but fatter,” Butterbean said. “Like flat cake.”
“That’s true,” Polo agreed. “Madison eats them.”
Oscar closed his eyes. He decided not to say anything.
“Well, I haven’t seen any, so I think it’s fair game,” Wallace said. “I’m not turning down free milk.”
“Sure,” Butterbean said. Free milk was free milk.
“See? It sounds like we won’t even miss being investigators,” Oscar said, clicking his beak. “What with Wallace’s new apartment, Marco and Polo with their seed sorting, Walt with her…”
“Relaxing,” Walt said. “I’m planning on doing some high-quality relaxing.”
“Right. Relaxing. And Butterbean with her—”
“Being a therapist,” Butterbean said, nodding.
“Um. Right,” Oscar finished lamely. He didn’t even want to ask. But somebody had to. “Butterbean, about this therapist job—”
“You can’t just decide to be a therapist,” Walt interrupted.
Butterbean looked offended. “I’m not. It’s a real job.”
Walt sighed. “Of course it is, but you’re a wiener dog. Do you really think—”
She hadn’t even finished the sentence when the front door slammed open, and Madison Park, the medium-sized girl who lived with them, rushed into the room waving a piece of paper over her head.
“It’s all set!” she said, dropping her backpack and throwing herself into the chair next to Mrs. Food.
“Well, hello to you too,” Mrs. Food said, swallowing the last of her tuna. Butterbean looked mournfully at the empty plate. It was so unfair.
“Right, sorry, hello. But it’s all set! See?” She pushed the piece of paper toward Mrs. Food. “I got the appointment for Butterbean.”
Mrs. Food peered down at the paper through her glasses. “Well, isn’t that something!”
Madison jumped up and hurried over to Butterbean. “You’re going to be great, Bean!” She kissed Butterbean on the head. “She’s going to be perfect. Look at her—she even looks like a therapy dog!” Madison rubbed Butterbean’s ears and then rushed off toward her bedroom. “I can’t wait to e-mail Aunt Ruby!” Madison was staying with Mrs. Food while her aunt was deployed overseas.
“Therapy dog?” Oscar said slowly. It was all making sense now.
“I told you. I’m going to be a therapist,” Butterbean said smugly.
Walt raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s quite the same thing, Bean.”
“You’re just jealous because I’m going to have my own practice,” Butterbean said.
“OOOOoooh, are we talking about our careers? Me next, please.”
Everyone jumped at the voice. (Marco hit his head on the bottom of the water bottle.) “DON’T DO THAT!” Marco said, rubbing his head.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” The white cat emerged from behind the couch and blinked at them innocently. “Oops. My bad.”
“YOU KNOW YOU DID!” Polo said. “And you can’t just come in like that. Mrs. Food is RIGHT THERE!” She waved her arms in the direction of the dining room table.
“Relax, you know I always keep out of sight,” the white cat said. She lived on the fifth floor but didn’t see anything wrong with using the vents to explore other apartments. “So did I tell you I’ve come out of retirement?” The white cat was the cat featured in all the Beautiful Buffet Cat Food commercials. (Print and television.)
“Only a million times,” Marco grumbled softly.
“Sales of Beautiful Buffet Cat Food PLUMMETED when I retired. They practically begged me to come back. I didn’t have the heart to say no.” The white cat curled her tail around her feet.
“So you’ve said,” Oscar said politely. He’d heard the story so many times he could practically recite it word for word.
“Well, it’s true,” the white cat said.
“I’ve got a career now too,” Butterbean said. “I’m going to be a therapist. That’s why we’re all retiring from investigating, because we’ve got so much to do.”
“Hmm. Well, good to know. Of course, that’s bad news for Biscuit, but I guess he’ll figure things out himself.” The white cat lashed her tail in the air as she turned to go back behind the couch.
“Wait, Biscuit? What’s wrong with Biscuit?” Butterbean asked, frowning.
“Oh, nothing important.” The white cat waved a paw dismissively. “Nothing that a career dog like you should worry about.”
“But which Biscuit?” Butterbean asked. There were a lot of Biscuits in the building, and Butterbean was friends with them all. “Second Floor Biscuit? Eighth Floor Biscuit? Biscuit with the Slobber Problem? Biscuit who—”
“Second Floor,” the white cat said. “But like I said, he’ll probably be fine. I’m sure he’ll survive somehow.” She turned to leave, but Walt blocked her path.
“Okay, spill it.” Walt’s whiskers were bristling. She didn’t have strong feelings about any of the Biscuits, but she didn’t love the way the white cat was toying with them. “What’s wrong with Second Floor Biscuit?”
“Well, if you must know,” the white cat said, her eyes gleaming. “Your friend is in big trouble.” She made a sympathetic face at Butterbean. “He’s getting evicted. Kicked out. By this time next week, your little friend will be out on the street.”
With her stick-on fangs and widow’s peak drawn in waterproof eyeliner, Sylvie is an expert at pretending to be a vampire. More kids at school would know that if they bothered to join her monster LARPing (live action role playing) club. Not even her dad understands her passion for the undead and denies her request to attend a monster LARPing summer camp. But Sylvie is not so easily deterred.
She decides to tell her dad she’s attending another camp located near Monster Camp then sneak over to her real destination after he drops her off. Sylvie feels bad lying to him, but there’s no way she’s going to miss the chance to finally meet other kids that share her interests. And when she lays eyes on Monster Camp, she knows it was all worth it—the immersive campgrounds look like they came off a Hollywood lot!
But when an obnoxious kid dressed like a werewolf gets punished by being magically turned into a Pomeranian, Sylvie realizes she made a critical miscalculation. These aren’t LARPers, they’re real monsters, and Sylvie’s preferred costume means she’s placed with blood-sucking, human-biting campers who would breathe fire if they knew the truth about her. She has no choice but to try to stick it out by doing exactly what she does best: pretending to be a monster.]]>
In the opulent, sinking city of Dantessa, the Great Game rules all. Pia Paro believes that so long as you follow the rules, you always have a chance at winning. But after her beloved Gramps is sentenced to a life of servitude, Pia accepts a dangerous offer and joins a team of players seeking to win the most perilous game of all: Noctis.
The Seafoxes—Pia’s new teammates—are unlike anyone she’s ever met. There’s brash, bold Carlo; macabre Serafina; kindhearted Pasquale; and their dashing ringleader, Vittoria. Each has their own reason for playing, and soon, Pia begins to question all her long-held beliefs. Maybe the rules Pia once trusted to lift her up have only been keeping her—and thousands of others like her—down.
As she struggles with these revelations, Pia must survive a gauntlet of clockwork soldiers, perilous underwater adventures, and even a game against Death herself. But with Pia’s grandfather’s life at stake, Pia must finally decide whether she’s brave enough to not just break the rules, but to change the very nature of the Game.]]>
ACCORDING TO THE BOOK OF PLAY, there were 8,684 officially recognized games. That should have been plenty, especially for a tiny little island like Dantessa, so small you might think it was a mistake, a blotch of ink fallen from the pen of a particularly sloppy cartographer.
But I’d been trotting after Gramps for the last hour, back and forth along every mildew-streaked alley in the Damps, up and down a dozen bridges, crisscrossing the maze of canals that served as our streets. It was nearly seven o’clock, and we still hadn’t won the five measly segna we needed to buy our supper.
A ramshackle collection of pushcarts and lopsided tables jammed the narrow quay, hunched under the queasy greenish glow of the fishlamps floating above. Brighter flames flared here and there from the braziers where snack-sellers sold twisted paper cones of roasted chestnuts and smoky skewers of octopus. My belly rumbled as I eyed them longingly. “One segna each, love,” sang out the woman tending the skewers.
Without meaning to, my fingers clenched the pouch at my belt, feeling the single segna resting there.
“Just a little longer, Pia.”
I jerked my gaze away from the food stands, feeling a stab of guilt. Gramps was watching me from the next bridge, tufted gray brows arched over his mild blue eyes. I hastened to catch up, hopping over the puddles of dank water that had begun to eat up the flagstones. There was a reason this part of the city was called the Damps. In a few hours, the entire district would be flooded by high tide.
“I just need to win few rounds of queekers with Coy Angelo and we’ll have full bellies again,” said Gramps bracingly. But there was a flicker of something else at the corner of his smile. Something he was trying to hide. Doubt?
I smothered the unworthy thought. Gramps had taken care of me my entire life. I loved him more than anything in the world, and not just because he was the only family I had left. I loved him because he laughed so delightedly at his own jokes that he could never finish telling them. Because he always stopped to pet any cat or dog he met. Because he hummed sad songs when he was happy, and happy songs when he was sad.
And because he loved games as much as I did. He was the one who had first taught me to play snatch-it, my soft, stubby little baby hands grabbing for his strong, leathery fingers. As I got older, he’d taught me queekers, crackerjack, abraxus, and a hundred other games of wit and grace. He’d shown me the joy of spotting the perfect move, the thrill of unraveling a skein of possibilities and finding the path to victory.
My stomach fluttered. “Or I could play,” I offered. “I’m a player too now.”
I held out my hand, twitching my fingers. A glowing number shimmered into the dark night air just above my palm, as if drawn by some invisible scribe with a gilt-tipped brush:
45
I lifted my chin. Standing signified your ranking as a player within the Great Game, from 1 to 100. High was good. Low was bad. Multiple people could share the same standing, and most folk fell in the middle, like me. If my standing ever fell to zero, I would no longer be a player, but a pawn. I’d have little choice but to work for one of the great player families, maybe as a housemaid, or a scullion. Honest work, but hard. Still, it was better than the alternative: getting sent to the Pawn Isles. I’d never been there myself, but I’d heard stories about the hours of work in the fields. The chill. The damp.
Worst of all, if I became a pawn, I would never play another game. And that was what terrified me most.
Games were my life. There was nothing like falling into a game, letting my mind spin out all the possibilities, sporting in a sea of strategy like spotted dolphins in the wake of a swift trade ship. Aside from my grandfather, gaming was the only thing in this world I still loved. Okay, well, and maybe those cheese dumplings from that tiny shop in the Masks District.
But 45 was a perfectly respectable ranking, especially given that I’d only been a player since my twelfth birthday, six months ago. And that standing could be even higher if Gramps let me play more often. I was good—I knew my own worth and wasn’t ashamed of it. Gramps knew it too. “I can do it,” I said. “I want to help.”
For a moment, his expression softened. “You’re a good girl, Pia. And a clever player. But this is my responsibility. You’re only twelve.” He reached out, gently closing my fingers over my palm, banishing the glimmering gamescript. Then he continued, crossing the bridge to a triangular plaza lined with tea shops and gaming clubs.
I followed, searching for an argument to convince him. The posters plastered over the nearby walls gave me one. “I’m old enough to play noctis,” I said, pointing.
Gramps frowned at the image of a bright blue mermaid, the elaborate silver script along the top of the sign proclaiming the team’s name: THE SIRENS. There were others: a leaping dolphin, a proud storm-eagle. The posters had been blossoming all over the city, what with the tournament starting in just a week.
Dantessa was an island-city of games, but none was more famous than noctis. It was the reason our city had survived the great plague three centuries ago: the swelling pustules that brought fever and aches, then finally a sleep that most never woke from. The prince of Dantessa had challenged Death herself to a game, with the prince’s own life as the stakes. If the prince won, the city would be spared the ravages of the disease. If she lost, Death would take her.
The prince won. Dantessa was saved. Now, every year, a game of noctis was played in the Grand Arena, to honor the original bargain and keep Dantessa safe. And according to The Book of Play, all players in the tournament must be youths no older than sixteen, the age the prince—known now as the Last Prince—had been when she challenged Death.
If I was old enough to face Lady Death herself, surely I was old enough to challenge Coy Angelo to a game of queekers.
But Gramps was already turning his back on the poster, shaking his head. “That’s different.”
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. We’d watched the noctis tournaments together every year since I was a little girl, cheering for our favorite teams, shivering in anticipation to see what the arena would hold. The challenges were never the same twice. One year, the teams might face each other in a forest full of slithering, poisonous vines. Another year, the arena might be an enormous pool full of exploding marshmallows. To win noctis, a player had to be clever, quick, ready for anything. And rich enough to afford the entry stakes.
I was all those things, except one.
Tearing my gaze from the sign, I hastened to follow Gramps over to the edge of the nearby canal. Several dark, slim gondolas were drawn up along the quay. The air above them sparkled with gamescript. Gramps was already bent beside the boat at the far end, speaking with the man perched at its prow.
“Luciano Paro!” Coy Angelo boomed out, grinning. “Looking for a game of queekers? Yes? Come aboard then.”
I grimaced as Gramps clambered into the gondola. It bothered me, how Angelo insisted that they play on his boat. It was a brazen ploy to get around the gaming tax that would have applied if he were accepting challenges on dry land. But Gramps liked Angelo, so I bit my tongue, summoning a tight smile when his gaze fell on me.
“Ah, and is this little Pia? All grown-up and a full player now? I suppose you’ll be the one challenging me next, eh?”
“No,” said Gramps, giving me a stern look. “Not tonight.”
Angelo shrugged. “Well then. Five segna?” He drew a handful of golden coins from the pocket of his worn woolen doublet.
Gramps coughed, pulling out the only three coins he had left. “How about three?”
I held my breath. Angelo nodded.
Gamescript unfurled in the air above them. The coins vanished from both their hands, as the magic took hold.
Challenge Accepted. Stakes: 3 Segna.
And that was it. Play had begun and the magic of the Great Game had awoken. Gramps leaned over the battered board laid out across one of the empty gondola seats and made his first move. Queekers was a bit like checkers, but one of the pieces on each side was special, chiseled with the image of a mouse. There were special rules for the so-called queeker, allowing it a wider range of moves.
I watched, trying to ignore the anxious ball of slithering eels tangled in my belly. Gramps was smart. He’d won hundreds of games. Just… not recently.
My eyes began to sting. I didn’t want to look away. It was silly, I knew, to think that just watching could somehow help. It wasn’t my hand moving the pieces. It wasn’t my eyes hunting for openings. But I had to do something. If Gramps lost this game, we were in trouble. All we’d have left was my single segna. We’d go to sleep with empty bellies. Or worse, Gramps would swear he wasn’t hungry and make me eat the last bowl of bean soup we had in the pot back home.
No. He was going to win. Maybe we’d celebrate with his favorite pepper-fried shrimp, or my favorite cheesy dumplings. Or both! I closed my eyes, imagining the salty, oozy deliciousness.
Coy Angelo’s faint indrawn breath jerked me back to chill, uncheesy reality. Was it a sound of triumph or despair? His face told me nothing, round and milky-pale, lips a thin line.
Quickly, I scanned the board. A quiver of excitement rippled up my spine. Gramps was winning! He still had three pieces left, while Angelo had only his queeker and one other piece. All Gramps needed to do was take Angelo’s queeker and the game would be over. He’d win, and we’d have full bellies for another day.
The winning move was clear. So why was Gramps hesitating? He bent over the board, his long nose almost brushing the pieces as he squinted. His eyes had been getting even worse lately. He needed spectacles, but they were expensive. Next year, he always said when I asked. Once we’ve saved up some extra segna.
I opened my mouth. Then snapped it shut so sharply, I almost bit my tongue. I couldn’t interfere. It was against the rules. If I said anything, I risked forcing Gramps to forfeit. But surely Gramps wouldn’t—
“Hah!” Gramps jumped one of his pieces over Angelo’s. “Got your queeker!”
Oh no.
Angelo chortled, hopping the remaining piece—the one that was actually his queeker—over Gramps’s, devouring it.
Gamescript appeared, proclaiming WINNER in large golden letters, directly above Angelo’s head. The word burst apart like fireworks, falling in a shower of segna. Angelo thrust out his hands, catching the coins and laughing. “Better pay closer attention next time, old friend.” He leaned back, tucking his winnings away, wearing an indulgent smile. “Care for a rematch?”
Gramps looked as if someone had just force-fed him sea slugs. He fumbled the discarded pieces back onto the board and shoved it toward Angelo. “No,” he said, his voice sounding storm-tossed and tattered. “No, thank you. We’d better be going.”
Gramps slipped as he clambered out from the gondola, but when I tried to steady him, he flinched. A stab of guilt pierced me, even though I’d done nothing. Nothing except witness his loss.
As soon as he was back on solid ground, he set off, back the way we’d come. I swallowed the enormous lump in my throat and ran after him. “Gramps. Gramps, it’s okay. I’ve still got one segna. We can find something else. If I can get into a round of touch-not, I bet I can triple it.”
Ahead of me, Gramps had slowed. Then halted. His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched. I was suddenly horribly afraid that he might be weeping. How could I make this better?
“You’re the one who taught me not to give up,” I said. “?‘Every loss is a chance to learn something,’ right?”
I took a step closer. A faint golden light gilded his cheek and glinted in his thatch of curly gray hair.
Another step. My breath caught. He held one hand in front of him, just like I’d done earlier. But the golden number floating over his palm was only a single horrible digit:
1
“Gramps!” I couldn’t help the note of panic in my voice. “Gramps. Is that really your standing?” I blinked, then squinted, praying I’d misread it. Even 11 would be better than 1.
The number didn’t change.
Gramps clenched his fist, and the baleful number vanished. I could still feel it, the weight of it hanging over us both. How had his standing gotten so low? I knew Gramps hadn’t been playing as often. I knew he had been losing more games. But I’d never realized he was in this sort of danger.
I should have. I should have known. “Your eyes are getting worse,” I said. “Aren’t they?”
That’s why he’d lost. Because he hadn’t been able to see the markings. He hadn’t realized which of Angelo’s pieces was the queeker. Pox! If only we’d managed to get him some proper spectacles!
Gramps drew in a long breath. Let it out. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll get through this, Pia. You’re smart. You’re a good player. You’re better than me.” He gave a small, helpless laugh.
“You mean we’ll get through this.” I tried to find a smile for Gramps, and for myself. “We’ll find a way to boost your score. We’ve got time, Gramps. You’re still in the game.”
He met my smile with one of his own. A true one, but tinged with a sadness that hurt even worse than seeing that cursed 1. He reached out, ruffling my dark brown hair.
“You’re a good girl. But… I don’t think I am. Not if I can’t tell which piece is the queeker. I tried, Pia.” His voice cracked on my name.
It wasn’t fair. Gramps was smart. He’d beaten me at queekers hundreds of times. If he had proper spectacles, he’d win again. But without them…
“You’re playing a harder game than folks who don’t need glasses,” I said finally.
“True,” he agreed. “But the Great Game has never been fair.”
“Yes, it is. It has to be!” The words leapt from somewhere deep inside. It felt as if my entire world was slipping from my grasp, about to shatter against the hard ground. If Gramps got taken as a pawn, I might never see him again. Some pawns stayed in the city, working in the fishing fleet, or doing laundry, or any of the hundreds of other jobs that no player would deign to do. But others were sent away, to the Pawn Isles, three small islands in the waters beyond the lagoon, mostly farmland, which provided much of the produce for Dantessa proper.
“Pia—”
“We can fix this,” I said firmly. “You can play me. Right now.” I dug in my pouch, pulling out my single segna. “We can play slaptrap. We don’t even need a board for that.”
He waved my suggestion away. “I’m too tired. And you’re too good now, Pia. You’ll win.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck there. He was right. I was good. I would probably win. Unless…
Unless I didn’t. Something twisted in my stomach. Could I do that? I’d never cheated before. Cheating went against everything the Great Game stood for. But if I deliberately made a mistake, was that cheating?
“I won’t consent,” said Gramps. “Not to any game of consequence with you, Pia. I won’t have my own granddaughter be the one who takes me out of play. I don’t want you to have to live with that.”
Relief untwisted my belly, leaving only a shadow of guilt. I wasn’t certain if it was guilt for thinking of throwing the game, or guilt that I hadn’t tried harder to make Gramps let me.
But there was another option. One that didn’t require breaking or bending any rules. “If I can earn enough segna, I can buy up your standing at the tally-house.”
The rate of exchange was terrible. I’d need ten segna for a single point of standing. It got more expensive, the higher your standing, so folk in our part of town used it only as a last resort. It made more sense to save your segna for play. But Gramps couldn’t play right now.
“No.” He shook his head. “There are too many dangerous games out there, Pia. Too many players just waiting to take advantage of you if they know you’re desperate.”
I stood there, miserable, quivering with the need to do something.
Gramps took my hand in his own, thin and wrinkled, but still strong. “You’re a good girl, Pia. Too good. I know you want the world to be fair. For the rules to save us. I wish the world was actually like that.”
It was, though. Gramps had believed it once, and he would again. I just had to prove it.
Bo is ready to get his paws into the soft sand at the beach! With his human family by his side and the refreshing waves, it’s looking like the ultimate day of fun in the sun. But when a lost pup wanders into Bo’s path, Bo quickly puts a hold on beach time to lend a helping paw.
With easy-to-read language and illustrations on almost every page, the Good Dog chapter books are perfect for emerging readers.]]>
As soon as Ariel Landy learned how to draw a sky beyond a blue scribbled line, she knew she wanted to be an illustrator. Raised on coloring books and crayons outside of Boston, she now lives in France with her husband and dog. Visit her online at ArielLandy.com.]]>
Bo is ready to get his paws into the soft sand at the beach! With his human family by his side and the refreshing waves, it’s looking like the ultimate day of fun in the sun. But when a lost pup wanders into Bo’s path, Bo quickly puts a hold on beach time to lend a helping paw.
With easy-to-read language and illustrations on almost every page, the Good Dog chapter books are perfect for emerging readers.]]>
As soon as Ariel Landy learned how to draw a sky beyond a blue scribbled line, she knew she wanted to be an illustrator. Raised on coloring books and crayons outside of Boston, she now lives in France with her husband and dog. Visit her online at ArielLandy.com.]]>
When the Earth slowly spins and light fades away, animals hunker down for bedtime. But the narrator’s cozy story is interrupted by fireflies flickering, raccoons enjoying chicken dinners, and foxes planning a nighttime festival. The narrator eventually gives up trying to get the nocturnal creatures to go to sleep like everyone else as skunks, beavers, and more gather for a midnight soiree you’d have to see to believe…if you weren’t asleep!]]>
Mac has never really felt like he belonged. Definitely not at home—his dad’s politics and toxic masculinity make a real connection impossible. He thought he fit in on the baseball team, but that’s only because he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Finding his first gay friend, Cammy, was momentous; finally, he could be his authentic self around someone else. But as it turned out, not really. Cammy could be cruel, and his “advice” often came off way harsh.
And then, Mac meets Flor, who shows him that you can be both fierce and kind, and Mikey, who is superhot and might maybe think the same about him. Over the course of one hot, life-changing summer, Mac will stand face-to-face with desire, betrayal, and letting go of shame, which will lead to some huge discoveries about the realness of truly belonging.
Told in Mac’s infectious, joyful, gay AF voice, Hot Boy Summer serves a tale as important as hope itself: four gay teens doing what they can to connect and have the fiercest summer of their lives. New friendships will be forged, hot boys will be kissed…and girl, the toxic will be detoxed.]]>
Katie Lee is majorly bummed when her BFF moves away. But her hopes soar when the new girl at school, Whitney, befriends her right away and invites her to spend the night at her house for a sleepover. Katie loved sleepovers with her old best friend, so she’s sure she will have a great time. But something is not quite right at Whitney’s house. Whitney seems really, really into her dolls…and later that night, Katie’s convinced that the dolls are threatening her. The next morning, a freaked-out Katie decides that maybe she hasn’t found a new BFF after all. Whitney, however, has made up her mind about Katie—they’re going to be best friends forever…no matter what.
Creepy full-color graphic panels tell the story with the same horror as the original novel! This too-close-for-comfort friendship tale is ranked a 5 on the Creep-o-Meter.]]>
Katie Lee is majorly bummed when her BFF moves away. But her hopes soar when the new girl at school, Whitney, befriends her right away and invites her to spend the night at her house for a sleepover. Katie loved sleepovers with her old best friend, so she’s sure she will have a great time. But something is not quite right at Whitney’s house. Whitney seems really, really into her dolls…and later that night, Katie’s convinced that the dolls are threatening her. The next morning, a freaked-out Katie decides that maybe she hasn’t found a new BFF after all. Whitney, however, has made up her mind about Katie—they’re going to be best friends forever…no matter what.
Creepy full-color graphic panels tell the story with the same horror as the original novel! This too-close-for-comfort friendship tale is ranked a 5 on the Creep-o-Meter.]]>
An impactful, gripping middle grade novel in verse from acclaimed author Jamie Sumner that spans one girl’s marathon swim over twelve miles and six hours, calling her mom back home with every stroke.
Six hours.
One marathon swim.
That’s all Tully Birch needs to get her life straightened out. With the help of her best friend, Arch, Tully braves the waters of Lake Tahoe to break the record for the youngest person ever to complete the famous “Godfather swim.” She wants to achieve something no one in the world has done, because if she does, maybe, just maybe, her mom will come back.
The swim starts off well—heart steady, body loose, Arch in charge of snacks as needed. But for Tully, all that time alone with her thoughts allows memories to surface. And in the silence of deep waters, sadness can sink you. When the swim turns dangerous, Tully fights for her survival. Does she keep going and risk her own safety and Arch’s? Or does she quit to save them both, even if it means giving up hope that her mother will return?]]>
How It Starts
Air temp: 44 degrees.
Water temp: 68 degrees.
Body temp: 98.3 degrees.
Mental state of swimmer: Calm. Loose. Ready.
Mental state of support crew: Unknown and highly variable.
Arch looks like he’s going to puke—
hands on knees,
head down like a dog,
orange life vest bunched around his ears.
Poor Arch.
He wasn’t meant for the open water.
He’s a worrier.
You can’t be a worrier and a swimmer.
The water demands trust.
Whatever conditions…
Whatever’s below…
Whatever your head tells you…
You have to believe you’re going to make it
to the other side.
The minute you start to doubt yourself,
you make mistakes.
The water doesn’t forgive mistakes.
Me?
I’m a believer
in the power of the water
and in myself.
I don’t make mistakes.
While we’re still on shore,
Arch adjusts his life vest and breathes in through his nose.
I check his watch.
“5:58 a.m. You’ve got two minutes to get it together,” I say,
and look out over the dark blue of Lake Tahoe,
which is just beginning to twitch awake.
“Tully, I can’t,” Arch says, like he has a choice.
“You have to.
You swore it.”
I don’t remind him when or why he swore it.
He picks up the kayak,
drags it to the water’s edge.
He remembers.
Behind me, Cave Rock would cast a shadow
if the sun were high enough.
They call her Lady of the Lake.
If you squint hard enough,
the rock looks like a woman.
I think it’s a stretch.
If you try hard enough,
anything can look like anything.
Unless it disappears,
and then all the imagining in the world
won’t turn it into what you want,
which brings me back to today.
“One minute,” Arch whispers,
and swipes his dark hair out of his eyes.
We look out over the water.
I nudge his shoulder.
“You can do it.”
He nudges me back.
“That’s what I’m supposed to say to you.”
This will be the last time we touch for at least six hours—
if I do this right,
which I will,
because I do not make mistakes.
I pull my goggles down and step in.
Lady of the Lake, wish me luck.
Not that I believe in luck.
Or second chances.
But I believe in the power of the water
to do what it needs to do
for me,
for Mom.
“Call it,” I say to Arch,
who swallows,
lifts up his phone,
presses record.
“Time is 6:00 a.m.
Participant has left the natural shore.”
His voice breaks on shore,
but he keeps going:
“The marathon swim has begun.”
Deep Water
by Jamie Sumner
Book Description
Twelve-year-old Tully is determined to be the youngest person ever to swim twelve miles across the icy cold waters of Lake Tahoe and complete the “Godfather” swim. Tully is sure she can do it. After all, she was trained by her mother, who taught her how to be a winner. Tully’s mom left months ago, but if Tully finishes the swim, her mom will have to take notice and come back, right? At first, Tully is swimming strong, supported by her best friend, Arch, in his kayak. But spending hours in the water leaves a lot of time for thinking. Painful memories soon begin to bubble to the surface, along with doubts about her ability to finish the swim. When a lightning storm arrives, Tully and Arch are in serious danger, but if Tully gives up now, her mom might never come back. Will Tully let Arch haul her out of the water, or will she push through the danger and finish the swim?
Discussion Questions
1. What is the “Godfather” swim? Why does Tully decide to do this swim, even though no one her age has done it before? Why does she train for the swim in secret instead of telling the adults in her life?
2. What did you learn about open water swimming from Deep Water? How is the kind of open water swimming Tully does different from swimming in a pool or swimming outside for fun? Have you ever done, or would you ever want to do, a long-distance athletic event like this? Why or why not?
3. Why do you think the author chose to tell this story as a series of poems? What are some things that can be told differently in poetry than in prose? What did you like about reading a story in this format? Were there things that were challenging about it too? If so, how?
4. Why does Tully’s mom leave? How does losing her mom make Tully feel? What does she do to cope with her feelings? What does her dad do?
5. What is Tully like as a person? What is Arch like? Why do you think they’re such good friends? What is your best friend like? Are you very similar, or are there a lot of differences between the two of you?
6. Why do you think Arch agrees to help Tully complete the swim across Lake Tahoe even though he’s what Tully calls an “Indoor Person”? Does he approve of her decision?
7. At the start of the book, Tully says, “I don’t make mistakes.” (p. 7) Do you think this is true? Do you think Tully makes any mistakes in the book? What value is there in making mistakes?
8. Tully says that “The scariest thing / … is the monster that lives in your head. / Mom taught me that.” (p. 48) What do you think Tully means by this? Why does she say this is something her mom taught her? Do you agree that the monsters that live inside our heads are scarier than anything else?
9. What event does the poem that starts on page 113, titled “The Best Day of My Life” describe? Why is it such an amazing day for Tully? This poem is immediately followed by one titled “The Worst Day of My Life.” What is the worst day of Tully’s life?
10. This is how Tully describes her parents: “Dad is the lake on a windless summer day– / so calm and clear you can see all the way to the bottom. / Mom is the chop of waves on a yellow-flag day / that you cross your fingers won’t turn to red.” (p. 127) What do you think she means by these descriptions? What is Tully’s dad like? What is her mom like?
11. “I heard Mom call her depression / ‘a prison in my mind.’” (p. 61) What do you think Tully’s mom means by this? In what ways is depression like a prison?
12. “All systems go, I think, and smile / at the idea of myself as a machine, / circuits buzzing with unstoppable energy.” (p. 26) Why is this an appealing way for Tully to think of herself? What makes you feel like you have unstoppable energy?
13. For Tully’s mom, “Once the challenge was done, / there was nothing left to hold her up.” (p. 60) What do you think will hold Tully up once her challenge is done? Who or what holds you up during difficult times in your life?
14. What is dangerous about swimming in a storm? Why does Tully insist on continuing her swim even after the storm rolls in? How does Arch feel about this?
15. When Tully decides to leave Arch behind and continue swimming through the storm, she thinks, “It’s better this way. / He’ll be better this way.” (p. 191) What does she mean by this? Do you think it’s true? Will Tully be better without Arch? Will Arch be better without Tully?
16. Of the swim, Tully says, “I have dragged [Arch] into another fight.” (p. 91) When has Tully dragged Arch into fights in the past? In what way has she dragged Arch into a fight now?
17. Do you think Tully is a good friend to Arch during the events of this book? Why or why not?
18. What personality traits and skills does Tully have that will help her survive the swim across Lake Tahoe? What traits and skills do you have that help you face big challenges? What is the biggest challenge you’ve ever taken on?
19. The author uses the poetic form to express Tully’s thoughts and feelings. For example, she sometimes using very short lines with just one word or even a single letter. How do the very short lines change how you read these parts of the poems? Can you find other examples of how the form of the poem changes how you read it?
20. In the second-to-last poem, Tully realizes, “I am my father’s daughter.” (p. 204) What does she mean by this? How do you think Tully’s swim will change her relationship with her dad?
21. What happens when Tully’s dad finally arrives at the lake to get her? How does it make Tully feel? Did her dad’s decision surprise you?
22. After her swim, Tully thinks: “Maybe perfection isn’t possible / without sacrifice. / But I don’t want / to be perfect / if it means / ending up / alone.” (p. 210) What does Tully mean by this? Do you think Tully’s mom would agree? Explain your reasoning.
23. Were you surprised at the way the story ended? Why or why not?
24. Compare Tully at the start of the book to Tully at the end. How has she changed? How is she still the same? Give specific examples.
25. Do you think Tully’s mom will ever come back? If you were going to give Tully advice about coping with her mom leaving, what would you tell her?
Extension Activities
1. Create a poster, slideshow, or video about open water swimming on Lake Tahoe. What challenges does the lake present? What are the rules? What physical and mental preparation is required to complete a swim like this? Who are the current record holders? If you’d like, you can also include information about other long-distance swims and how they compare to the “Godfather” swim across Lake Tahoe.
2. In the poems “Zing,” “Dropping,” and “A Body in Motion” (pp. 148, 186, 193), Tully is caught in bad weather while she swims. These poems are printed on the page in unusual shapes. Choose one of the poems and write a report analyzing it. Begin by reading the poem aloud. Then, analyze how the author uses the poem’s form to express the events and Tully’s emotions. Be sure to consider how the poem looks on the page, line length, repeated words, where lines are broken, how the poem is broken into stanzas, and anything else you notice.
3. Write a poem in Tully’s voice, capturing how she is feeling and what she is thinking during an important moment in the story: the day after her mom left or when Tully comes ashore after her swim, for example. If you’d like, you can also write a poem about a frightening or emotional experience from your own life.
4. Deep Water is a novel in verse, which is a novel-length story written in poetry instead of prose. Research novels in verse. What are the features of a novel in verse? What were some of the earliest novels in verse? What are some well-known modern novels in verse, especially those written for young readers? Why do authors choose to write in this format? Present your findings as a report or a poster.
5. Create a poster or write a report about how losing a parent affects children. What problems can it cause for kids? What are some healthy and unhealthy ways for a child to cope with this kind of loss? What resources are available for kids who need support?
6. Working with a partner, each person should write a poem about a key event in their own life. Then, write about the same event in prose. Trade work and compare the two. Think about how the use of verse instead of prose impacts the mood, pacing, and emotion of the story. Which version of your partner’s story do you like better? Do you think poetry is better for some kinds of stories and prose for others?
7. Organize a poetry reading for your class, library, or book club. Each participant should choose a poem from the book to perform in front of the group. If you’d like, each person can also bring a poem they would like to read aloud from a different author.
Note: Page numbers refer to the hardcover edition of this title.
Chris Clark is a writer and reading teacher who lives with her family in coastal Maine.
This guide has been provided by Simon & Schuster for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes.]]>
Tell me why the ocean moves
in waves that splish and splash.
Wind on water makes those waves
that hit the shore and crash!
A child asks their grownup many questions about the ocean. From what creates waves, what lives in the deep sea, what makes the ocean blue, and more, scientific facts are conveyed in accessible language. Sidebars on each spread provide even more information for every question asked and answered.]]>
Jennifer Falkner is a children’s book illustrator and designer based in Perth, Australia. Jennifer’s work is inspired by a passion for nature, the antics of her two small boys, and her own childhood playing and exploring the beach and the bush in Western Australia. Recently, Jennifer has illustratedThe Happiness Seed,The Lucky Shack, the Flashlight Explorers series,Tell Me About Oceans, andTell Me About Space. Before returning to Perth in 2018, Jennifer lived and worked in Canberra, Bangkok, Jakarta, and Singapore.]]>
Nine-year-old twins, Emma and Martín, couldn’t be more different in their personalities, interests, and even their looks. But one thing they absolutely agree on is that moving from Cuernavaca, Mexico, to Illinois is a terrible idea. Unfortunately, they’re not given a choice when their dad lands his dream job as a middle school principal in Chicago. To help the twins stay connected to their Mexican heritage, their abuela gifts them a book of Mexican legends. The book turns out to be more than a going away present…it’s a magical item that transports them directly into the legends!
In the first legend, Emma and Martín encounter Tlaloc, the god of rain. Tlaloc is angry because his lightning bolt has been stolen, and his rage is manifesting as a torrential downpour over the ancient city of Texcoco. The rain won’t stop until the lightning bolt has been returned, so Emma and Martín set out to recover it.
Will they find Tlaloc’s bolt in time to help the people of Texcoco save their home? Or will the wrath of the rain god mark the end of this legendary city?]]>
Vanessa Morales is a Mexican illustrator, kid lit artist, and concept artist with a deep love for portraying nature, fantasy, and daily life with a touch of magic. She has been working in different fields of illustration for almost ten years.]]>
Who makes buses rev and go, through detours, gridlock, storms, and snow? Who sends riders—CLICK, CLICK, CLACK—down the proper railroad track?
It’s not just drivers and pilots and conductors! It’s also mechanics and maintenance workers, loaders and air traffic controllers, ticket agents and dispatchers. Young readers will meet the people who work behind the scenes to keep us and our vehicles moving and explore a whole slew of fun—and essential—transportation professions!]]>
Robert Neubecker is the award-winning author and illustrator ofLinus the Vegetarian T. Rexand the Wow! series. He also illustratedNot Just the Driver!by Sara Holly Ackerman,Shiver Me Timbers!by Douglas Florian,Sophie Peterman Tells the Truth!by Sarah Weeks,I Got Two Dogsby John Lithgow, andMonsters on Machinesby Deb Lund. A graduate of Parsons School of Design, Robert also illustrates forTheNew YorkTimesandSlatemagazine. He and his family live in Salt Lake City, Utah. Visit Robert at Neubecker.com.]]>
Katie’s Cupcake Club friends all have other activities besides making cupcakes. So Katie sets out to find her extracurricular niche. When Katie makes the softball team, it’s batter up…but is this the kind of batter Katie really wants to be dealing with? What if she makes a mistake and her team loses? By stepping up to the plate, Katie realizes that doing what you love always makes the batter sweeter.
Fun, bright, full-color graphic panels tell the story with the same humor and heart as the original novel.]]>
Hey now, Little Man, what’re you all about?
Let’s break it down for the crowd. Let’s figure it out.
What does it take to be a Little Man? From lending a hand to expressing creativity to enjoying silence, young boys learn that the right way to be is your way.]]>
Chris Parkhas been a professional illustrator for over twelve years. His work focuses on color and vibrant scenes striving to elicit an emotional connection. Chris lives in Minnesota with his wife and two sons.]]>
You’re the sprinkles on my ice cream
You’re the wind that lifts my kite
You’re the twinkle in my nighttime
I will always hold you tight
With delightful text and bright illustrations, this lovey-dovey board book is perfect to read with your little one.]]>
Vanessa Port is a graphic designer and freelance illustrator. She’s passionate about using the accessibility of technology combined with her creative skills to teach others or tell stories. When not drawing or designing, Vanessa likes to tend to her foster animals, hike the Oregon wilderness, and play the newest video games. Visit her online at VanessaPort.com.]]>
Isla is traveling by airplane for the first time ever as she heads into La Ciudad, the big city! With her friend Tora by her side, Isla is sure she’ll have a blast. But a pesky pigeon threatens to ruin their summertime fun!
With easy-to-read language and illustrations on almost every page, the Isla of Adventure chapter books are perfect for beginning readers.]]>
Ana Sebastiánis an illustrator living in Spain. She studied fine arts at University of Zaragoza and Université Michel de Montaigne, Bordeaux, specializing in digital illustration and completing her education with a master’s degree in digital illustration for concept art and visual development. Her work focuses on color and light. She mainly works with her iPad Pro at her studio but sometimes you can find her working at coffee shops, in the mountains, or near the sea. Ana also likes to work with colored pencils and watercolors. When not drawing, she will probably be reading, practicing yoga, or traveling.]]>
Kelp has two celebrations today: one on land and one in the ocean! But how can he be in two places at once? Join Kelp as he learns that both special days are all about celebrating who you are and spending time with everyone you love!
DreamWorks Animation’s animated show, Not Quite Narwhal © DreamWorks Animation LLC. All Rights Reserved.]]>
Hey firefly, you keep my heart warm.
You’re the sweetest melody.
A summertime swarm.
Flit along with bugs of all kinds and reassure little ones that they’re loved through wordplay and so moth love!]]>
Riley Samelsis an illustrator who grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. In his free time, he is probably tending to his collection of 112 (and growing) plants. Riley has a green thumb with a passion for illustration, social justice, traveling, and good food.]]>
Henry’s parents are going on a date night and have hired a babysitter. But Henry’s not a baby, he’s a wizard! And the last thing he needs is a nosy stranger looking into his room and discovering his magic Book of Spells. Can Henry convince his parents that he’s old enough to stay home alone?
With easy-to-read language and illustrations on almost every page, the Henry Heckelbeck chapter books are perfect for beginning readers.]]>
Priscilla Burris has illustrated numerous booksfor children, parents, and teachers. She enjoys cake painting and creating art for products that include murals, greeting cards, and rubber stamps. Priscilla lives with her family in Southern California.]]>
Henry’s parents are going on a date night and have hired a babysitter. But Henry’s not a baby, he’s a wizard! And the last thing he needs is a nosy stranger looking into his room and discovering his magic Book of Spells. Can Henry convince his parents that he’s old enough to stay home alone?
With easy-to-read language and illustrations on almost every page, the Henry Heckelbeck chapter books are perfect for beginning readers.]]>
Priscilla Burris has illustrated numerous booksfor children, parents, and teachers. She enjoys cake painting and creating art for products that include murals, greeting cards, and rubber stamps. Priscilla lives with her family in Southern California.]]>
Angelina is playing the lead in the Cinderella Dance Tour traveling across Mouseland. The final stop on the tour is at the grand Von Whiskers Castle, but just before the performance, the scenery is ruined! Angelina and her friends know the show must go on, but how?
© 2024 Helen Craig Ltd and Katharine Holabird. The Angelina Ballerina name and character and the dancing Angelina logo are trademarks of HIT Entertainment Limited, Katharine Holabird, and Helen Craig.]]>
Helen Craighas illustrated more than sixty books for children, including theAngelina Ballerinabooks. She lives in England.]]>
Chloë and Maude is a truly terrific children’s classic, celebrating the delights and perplexities of a close (and very kid-like) friendship.
In three small stories, this fine and funny little book shows the vivid differences between two adventurous young cats, and how they bridge the space between.]]>
We’ll see the difference a touch of black can make. Just remember, whatever I do, I’ll be me and you’ll be you.
Explore the appreciation of one’s own heritage and beauty. In this story, the colorful birds of Africa ask Blackbird, who they think is the most beautiful of birds, to color them black so they can be beautiful too, though Blackbird reminds them that true beauty comes from the inside.]]>
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Customize your origami folding sheets by coloring in beautiful designs and patterns, and then follow the instructions to fold flowers, animals, and more. The easy step-by-step instruction book with detailed diagrams will take you through the folds. Finished models make great gift toppers! Novice and master folders alike will find hours of entertainment in this kit.]]>
Super Silly Stickers: Puppies and Kittens is packed with irresistible photos of a wide variety of playful puppies and curious kittens. Eighty puppies and kittens are all waiting for you to use more than 800 included stickers to complete their looks. From eyeglasses to earrings, bowties to boots, crowns to caps, and so much more, the accessory stickers will let your creativity soar for hours! Plus, perforated pages make it easy for you to tear and share your creations.]]>
Color in yummy fruits, colorful candy, delicious desserts, and so much more! ColorWorld: Sweet Scents is full of tear-out coloring pages, more than 35 customizable stickers, and 7 markers with sweet-smelling scents such as strawberry, green apple, and watermelon. Whether it’s a fun fruit pattern or a smiling cheeseburger, there’s something for everyone to enjoy in this cute kawaii-style coloring set!]]>
This cute Kawaii-styled coloring book is perfect for creative kids! Kawaii Cuties: Coloring Book with Rainbow Pencilhas everything kids could want: cute coloring pages, fun activities, stickers, and a jumbo rainbow-swirl pencil! From coloring a sunbathing hamster to guiding an adorable panda through a bamboo maze, kids will find hours of creative entertainment with this activity book that’s chock-full of the cutest coloring and activities ever! With charming coloring pages, simple and sweet activities, more than 45 stickers, AND a rainbow pencil, this book is full of nonstop coloring fun.]]>
Daniela Massirioni was born in 1984 in a small town near Milan, Italy. She has always loved drawing. Since she was very small, her favorite pastimes have been sketching and doodling, giving life to the fantasy stories in her head. She studied graphic design in Milan and London, where she lived for four years. There, she worked as a children's book designer at Egmont UK. This experience gave her the chance to get in touch with amazing and inspiring illustrators and to see her dream of becoming an illustrator come true. Now she is back in Italy, where she works as a freelance children's book illustrator. She loves her job so much, especially when thinking of all the children that she makes happy with her drawings! Daniela‘s favorite illustrators and greatest inspirations are Mary Blair, Marc Boutavant, and Joey Chou.]]>
When an experimental shuttlecraft fails, Captain Christopher Pike suspects a mechanical malfunction—only to discover the very principles on which Starfleet bases its technology have simply stopped functioning. He and his crewmates are forced to abandon ship in a dangerous maneuver that scatters their party across the strangest new world they’ve ever encountered.
First Officer Una Chin-Riley finds herself fighting to survive an untamed wilderness where dangers lurk at every turn. Young cadet Nyota Uhura struggles in a volcanic wasteland where things are not as they seem. Science Officer Spock is missing altogether. And Pike gets the chance to fulfill a childhood dream: to live the life of a cowboy in a world where the tools of the twenty-third century are of no use.
Yet even in the saddle, Pike is still very much a starship captain, with all the responsibilities that entails. Setting out to find his crewmates, he encounters a surprising face from his past—and discovers that one people’s utopia might be someone else’s purgatory. He must lead an exodus—or risk a calamity of galactic proportions that even the Starship Enterprise is powerless to stop...]]>
“Advanced home cooks looking to dazzle a dinner party will want to check this out.”—Publishers Weekly
ONE OF THE MOST EXCITING COOKBOOKS OF SPRING 2024: Epicurious • ONE OF THE BEST COOKBOOKS OF SPRING 2024: Eater
Take your home recipes and techniques to the next level with TikTok sensation and professional chef Sad Papi.
When Brandon Skier first created Sad Papi (@Sad_Papi) and started posting cooking videos to TikTok, he’d just lost his job as a chef at the beginning of the pandemic. He’d spent ten years working in the kitchen of some of the top restaurants in Los Angeles—learning all the secrets of the business, understanding how chefs take cooking to the next level and, as Brandon says, how to “make it fancy.” By the time his videos started going viral, his black hoodie, backwards baseball cap, and tattoos had become his signature. Soon after, he was listed among the rising cooking social media stars in The New York Times.
Just like his addicting videos, Make it Fancy teaches you how you can cook like a professional chef and elevate meals in a doable way—all while having fun in the kitchen. Before long, you’ll be coming up with your own ways to enjoy staple and main dish recipes for unusual dishes like:
- Lime Leaf Peanuts
- Burnt Onion Powder
- Pistachio Dukkah
- Preserved Lemon Vinaigreette
- Puffed Beef Tendon
- Brussel Sprouts with Chorizo Breadcrumbs
- Duck Confit with Mole Poblano
- Pork Chop with Fennel Pollen and Pear Mostarda
- And more!
For cooks who want to understand why restaurant food is so delicious, Make it Fancy will quickly earn a place on their kitchen bookshelf.]]>
Julian Strickland is seemingly the lone Black man in the hipster dreamland of Portland, Oregon. To his friends, he’s the coolest member of the scene: the soulful drummer from Chicago in an indie rock band that’s just about to break through. But to himself, he’s a sheltered Christian homeschool kid who used to write book reports on Leviticus. A virgin until the night of his marriage, divorced at twenty-four, he’s still in disarray two years later—pretending to fit in, wondering if any of his relationships are real, estranged from his family, and struggling to reconcile his relationship with God.
Then he meets Ida Blair, a Black painter at the start of a promising career. They begin a tentative relationship, and Ida seems to offer Julian relief from his confusion. But suddenly she stops responding to his texts. Things only get worse when Julian’s best friend mysteriously turns on him, his house burns down, and the band considers breaking up on the eve of their most important show yet. It seems the only thing Julian has left—the only thing he’s ever had, really—is the weight he is carrying.
Jeff Boyd’s beguiling first novel is a piercing exploration of faith, racial identity, love, and friendship—woven of acid humor, disarming vulnerability, and unforgettable poignance.]]>
1
THE PLACE WAS A RUIN. Painted blue so many years ago, its primary color was now dirt brown. William walked up to the house’s front landing. I stayed on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful day, but if anyone was inside the house, they didn’t seem to care. There was a window to the right of the door and the blinds were drawn. The doorbell didn’t work. The screen door was locked. William hit it a couple times. The frame rattled violently, and still no one came to the door.
“Can’t you just call the guy?” I asked him.
He turned to me and shook his head no. “I don’t have his number,” he said.
Two houses down, a white woman was standing by a street-side mailbox. She was watching us.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Hold on a minute. Maybe we should ask those guys across the street.”
On the front porch of the house across the street there were two sketchy white dudes sitting on lawn chairs smoking cigarettes. When we first pulled up, William had waved to them, and they’d acted like we didn’t exist, eyes not focused on anything in this world. I took a quick glance behind me. Nothing about them had changed. I turned back to William.
“No way,” I said.
“Then we should head around back and see if it’s still there.”
“I’m not trying to get shot over a damn fire pit,” I said.
William smiled.
“Good buddy,” he said. “Don’t be silly. No one’s going to shoot us.”
He acted like I was being absurd. Well, I’d never heard of a white guy like him getting shot in a stranger’s backyard for no good reason. For people like me, that kind of sh*t happened all the time. Despite that fact, I followed him anyway, refusing to let him believe that he was brave and I was a coward.
We walked across the empty driveway to the left side of the house where a string slipped through a hole in a wooden fence. William pulled the string and yanked the handle. The gate didn’t budge. He threw up his hands in defeat. He was the kind of guy who got surprised when a door didn’t open for him almost automatically. He was lucky to have me with him. Standing on my toes, I reached over the fence and pulled up the latch.
We entered the backyard. The blinds on the back of the house were closed just like the front. The sliding glass windows were covered with paper bags so you couldn’t see inside. The wooden deck was rotten, big holes, missing panels. No signs of life. No outside furniture. Only the fire pit standing alone amid high grass and weeds, like bait to a trap.
William walked up to the fire pit without concern, but I approached cautiously. When I stepped on a twig and it snapped, my body braced for an explosion. Seconds slowly passed and, somehow, I was still alive.
The risks I took for my friends. I was a friendship soldier sometimes. I kept marching ahead until I stood next to William.
The fire pit was about three feet in diameter, a big black metal bowl with slanted legs. The bottom of the iron cylinder contained ash, burnt wood, and a carton’s worth of cigarette butts.
“Let’s dump this sh*t out and bounce,” I said.
“That’s not how I roll,” William said.
I thought he might take it as an admission of my fear if I followed him to his car just for him to grab a trash bag, so I stayed in the backyard, trespassing by myself. I looked over the low wooden fence to the neighbor’s backyard. An out-of-commission refrigerator was toppled over in the grass. Two rusted cars without wheels sat on cinder blocks underneath a giant tree. I didn’t see a soul, and somehow that only made me feel worse, like I could be shot at any moment without knowing it was coming. Every second alone felt like an eternity. I wished I still believed in the power of prayer.
William came back with a paper sack and held it open. I tilted the fire pit. A lot of sh*t missed the bag. He bent down to grab a chunk of burnt wood and it turned into ash and fell through his fingers. Undeterred, he kept picking up little pieces. He picked up a couple of cigarette butts and tossed them into the bag.
“This is going to take forever,” I said.
He looked up at me from his crouched position.
“Then how about you help instead of just standing there?”
“Fine,” I said. “Get out of my way.”
He stood up and moved aside. I stomped at the debris until everything disappeared into the grass. William sighed as if he didn’t like my method of cleaning, but he didn’t tell me to stop. We picked up the fire pit and headed out front. It was heavy and I was walking backwards. I tried to move faster.
“What’s wrong with you today?” William asked.
“My fingers are getting numb,” I said.
“You want to take a break?”
“No,” I said. “I want you to hurry up.”
The woman who’d been watching us from a mailbox now stood behind William’s Subaru, blocking our access to the trunk. She wore a white sweatshirt with a large screen print of Minnie Mouse driving a red convertible down a scenic cartoon highway. Her wispy white hair was the sons of Noah after the flood—wild in every direction. She had a flip phone flipped open with her thumb over the call button like any false move and boom! she’d call the cops.
We set the fire pit down in front of her.
“You boys moving in?” she asked.
“We’re just here for the pit,” I said.
“How’d you know it was back there?”
“It was listed for free on Craigslist,” William said.
“That’s peculiar,” she said. “Last tenants moved out about a month ago. And good riddance to those godforsaken meth heads.” She put her phone in her pocket but didn’t move away. Instead of moving, she told us the last tenants used to pack the garage with stolen bikes and spray-paint them with the door opened only a smidge. “The fumes almost killed me from all the way across the street. I don’t know how they survived. Must have been all the drugs. They were invincible, like co*ckroaches. Unwanted just the same.”
She spoke so loudly I got the impression she was also addressing the dudes across the street. Letting them know she had an eye on them as well. She went on and on about the transgressions of the last tenants. William kept nodding like he understood this lady’s troubles, like he hadn’t grown up a San Diego surfer kid with adolescent memories of being stoned and playing guitar on the beach with his friends as the sun disappeared into the ocean. Fine for him. But what if the zombies across the street woke up and decided to cause trouble for the Black man? I wanted to tell her to get the hell out of our way. Yet I didn’t want to do anything to make her call the cops.
Once she finally moved, we put the fire pit in the trunk and headed for home. From the safety of the car, I waved to the zombies as we drove away. They waved back. Maybe they weren’t so murderous after all, but how was I to know until it was too late?
Finally out of Gresham, back in Portland, William rolled the windows down. He was enjoying the drive. He took the tree-lined route home instead of the fast one.
“Thanks for helping me out,” he said.
“My pleasure,” I said.
And even with the danger, I was being sincere. I was happy to help him because I missed him. We used to be the kind of roommates who did everything together. We used to sit in our living room and get stoned and listen to music and drink and talk until the sun came up. A few times we’d pissed in the toilet at the same time so there’d be no interruption in the conversation we were having. But not anymore, not since things got serious with him and Skyler. Now, except for band stuff, we barely saw each other. Which is why I’d agreed to help him with the fire pit in the first place, so we could spend some time together just the two of us. But our errand had taken longer than I’d thought it would. It was close to three o’clock and I had somewhere else to be.
“Mind speeding up a little?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I’m supposed to meet up with Anne.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s engaged.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why we need to talk.”
“But what’s there to talk about?”
“Just speed the hell up, man.”
“Jesus,” he said. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”
He rolled up the windows and pressed on the gas. I sat in the passenger seat and hoped I wasn’t headed for the end.
Raging ambition. Towering egos. Competition under a veneer of courtesy. Heroic effort combined with plagiarism, theft, exaggeration, and fraud. This was the state of bird study in eastern North America during the early 1800s, as a handful of intrepid men raced to find the last few birds that were still unknown to science.
The most famous name in the bird world was John James Audubon, who painted spectacular portraits of birds. But although his images were beautiful, creating great art was not his main goal. Instead, he aimed to illustrate (and write about) as many different species as possible, obsessed with trying to outdo his rival, Alexander Wilson. George Ord, a fan and protégé of Wilson, held a bitter grudge against Audubon for years, claiming he had faked much of his information and his scientific claims. A few of Audubon’s birds were pure fiction, and some of his writing was invented or plagiarized. Other naturalists of the era, including Charles Bonaparte (nephew of Napoleon), John Townsend, and Thomas Nuttall, also became entangled in the scientific derby, as they stumbled toward an understanding of the natural world—an endeavor that continues to this day.
Despite this intense competition, a few species—including some surprisingly common songbirds, hawks, sandpipers, and more—managed to evade discovery for years. Here, renowned bird expert and artist Kenn Kaufman explores this period in history from a new angle, by considering the birds these people discovered and, especially, the ones they missed. Kaufman has created portraits of the birds that Audubon never saw, attempting to paint them in that artist’s own stunning style, as a way of examining the history of natural sciences and nature art. He shows how our understanding of birds continues to gain clarity, even as some mysteries persist from Audubon’s time until ours.]]>
“The author exuberantly describes the incredible feat of these migrants as they follow instinct to return to their breeding grounds. . . . In this generous book, the author offers keen observations and informed description and invites us to share his enthusiasm. We learn wonderful expressions. . . . We witness the tiny miracle of a wren whose feathers sport a ‘wilderness of browns’ and the ‘grand silence of the wild open sky’ as a hundred bald eagles come in to roost at dusk in late February.” —Wall Street Journal
“A naturalist and conservationist with a self-confessed obsession with bird migration shares his love and knowledge. . . . He thrills to be outdoors in all weather, hearing and seeing birds, rejoicing in their presence, and he allows readers to share both his joy and his concerns. Highly readable and thoroughly enjoyable for all lovers of nature books.” —Kirkus Reviews
“Nature-loving readers will be moved by Kaufman’s detailed look at a fascinating yearly process. . . . Thanks to the author’s firsthand experiences and deep knowledge of his subject, readers will learn about winged migration and better understand the significant threats to bird environments covered in this thoughtful, informative book.” —Publishers Weekly
“Kenn Kaufman knows his birds and their miraculous journeys—and hefeelsthem deeply, too.An enlightening, thought-provoking, and poignant read.” —Jennifer Ackerman, author ofThe Genius of Birds
Praise for Kingbird Highway
“This story is told so naturally that I felt I was in the presence of a mind that is completely original.” —Tracy Kidder
“There are, of course, plenty of birds here, from the everyday to the extremely rare, but Kaufman also provides—in a winning, plain-spoken prose style—a book that covers the fine art of hitchhiking, crackling landscapes, and sharp profiles of other birders. . . . One can only marvel at how determined he was (he eventually counted 666 species) and at the purity of his enterprise. . . . For Kaufman, the pleasure now lies not in lists but in simply watching attentively. He makes us understand the joys of both in this frank, passionate book.” —Kirkus Reviews
“A fascinating memoir of an obsession with birds.” —Booklist]]>
Demystify the path to wealth once and for all with Dominique Broadway’s unique strategy for taking control of your finances and becoming a millionaire. Based on simple steps and small decisions that build upon each other that anyone can execute (even those who have never had money or who face debt), The Wealth Decision includes:
-What orange juice has to do with building wealth (hint: it’s about wanting the good stuff)
-Strategies for spending your way to wealth
-One single question to determine if you’re on top of your money
-How to avoid saving your way to debt
-A road map to score higher on your credit score
-Dominique’s framework for picking the best investments for you
-What insurance has to do with your legacy
Written with millennials and Gen Z-ers in mind, The Wealth Decision “fills an essential need” (Dr. Paris Woods, author of The Black Girl’s Guide to Financial Freedom) by showing you how to make that one decision to be wealthy. It then takes you through the most important decisions you need to live a life of financial freedom and ensuing strategies to build generational wealth and become a millionaire. Worksheets, resources, visuals, quizzes, and graphs bring Dominique’s strategies to life. With information on everything from crypto to day-trading to modern financial trends, The Wealth Decision is a must-have for anyone looking to level up their financial situation.]]>
After more than twenty years in the cutthroat real estate business, Mauricio Umansky has seen and heard it all. Now, he’s ready to share everything he’s learned throughout the highs and lows of his illustrious career in this part memoir, part leadership manifesto.
From the challenges of his childhood to outgrowing his father’s textile company and falling out with his brother-in-law Rick Hilton, while also raising a family and maintaining a strong marriage for over twenty-five years, Umansky has plenty of advice and lessons for aspiring entrepreneurs and self-starters across all industries. By outlining his fundamental principles of success, Umansky will embolden those who are ready to work hard and are prepared to meet adversity head on, which requires endless stamina, grit, and determination.
Each chapter will center around a specific piece of wisdom and offer insightful takeaways including: How to Play Hard and Work Harder, How to Find Your Professional and Personal Passions, How to be an Innovator Not an Imitator, The Art of the Sell, The Benefits of Remaining Positive, How to Achieve Balance, and so much more.
Umansky’s journey has been anything but boring. It’s been unpredictable, exhilarating, and emotionally and physically demanding at times. In The Dealmaker, he imparts his hard-earned knowledge, along with strategies he’s taught himself, for anyone and everyone looking to build their own fruitful career and to find the happiness we all seek in life. Welcome to his exclusive and exciting world.]]>
Today, Shaunie Henderson is a force to be reckoned with—a TV personality, producer of multiple hit reality shows, entrepreneur, philanthropist, mother of five children, First Lady of her husband’s church, and role model. But before she found her voice and her purpose, she was one more young woman trying to find her way as a partner, a parent, and a person.
In Undefeated, Henderson opens up about the struggles, heartbreaks, losses, and triumphs that have made her who she is today—stories that will inspire you to rise up, discover your strength and self-love, and be who you are meant to be. Featuring her relatable voice and filled with candor, Undefeated is so much more than a memoir—it is a stirring guidebook that will change your life for the better.]]>
Tired of bros and do-nothing daddys, sick of misogynistic behavior in the boardroom, and frankly dreading yet another bachelorette party with a stripper, Dalal Khajah and Josephine Wai Lin founded the service company ManServants Inc. What is a ManServant, you ask? The ManServants are “chivalrous gentlemen for nonsexual service,” who treat women like queens for a day.
The ManServant Guide to Modern Chivalry is the gift that every woman with a well-intentioned but clueless husband, boyfriend, guy friend, or son should buy for all the women in their life. From doing laundry, carrying shopping bags, cleaning the bathroom, or watching the kids, this book details how men should treat women in the 21st century. Including short essays, tips, and best practices aimed towards helping a budding ManServant please his lady of leisure, this visually intelligent, stylistically bold, and ardently feminist guide is a perfect navigation for men in the post-#MeToo movement world.]]>
Josephine Wai Lin is a creative director, entrepreneur, and cofounder/CEO of ManServants. She met her cofounder, Dalal, as an advertising copywriter over a decade ago. Her first book, Whoever You Are, is a baby book on unconditional love and gender. After the pandemic, she left San Francisco for the slow life in Hawaii with her boys—Kyle (the first ManServant trainer ever), sons West and Wolf, and French bulldog Drake.]]>
Vega Gopalan is adrift. Still reeling from the death of her sister years earlier, she leaves South India to attend graduate school at Columbia University. In New York, Vega straddles many different worlds, eventually moving in and out of a series of relationships that take her through the striving world of academia, the intellectual isolation of the immigrant suburbs, and, ultimately, the loneliness of single motherhood. But it is the birth of Vega’s daughter that forces the novel’s central question: What does it mean to make a home?
Written with dry humor and searing insight, Habitations is an intimate story of identity, immigration, expectation and desire, and of love lost and found. But it is also a universal story of womanhood, and the ways in which women are forced to navigate multiple loyalties: to family, to community, and to themselves.
A profound meditation on the many meanings of home and on the ways love and kinship can be found, even in the most unfamiliar of places, Habitations introduces Sheila Sundar as an electrifying new voice in literary fiction.]]>
“Impressive… The book draws the reader in like a good long conversation with a best friend about all the things that matter.”—The Advocate
“Sheila Sundar’s irresistible debut is a provocative meditation on grief, desire, and the unexpected ways the two entangle. Brimming with emotional intricacies, crisp prose, and sly humor, HABITATIONS traverses the complicated, intimate politics and promises of the places we seek to call “home.’”—DEESHA PHILYAW, author of National Book Award FinalistThe Secret Lives of Church Ladies
“Habitationsis a delightful novel, written with immediacy, warmth, and wry humor. Covering dramas both personal and universal, Sundar offers insightful reflections on the desire for arrival and the longing for return. This is a significant addition to migrant fiction.”—HA JIN, author of National Book Award winnerWaiting
“A striking reflection on migration, family, loss and home, and a vital portrait of race in American academia. Through sharp, up-close narration, we share Vega Gopalan's piercing observations about the world that surrounds her, and the friends, loves, and city-dwelling strangers that come to shape her life as she tries to find her place in it.”—MECCA JAMILAH SULLIVAN,author ofBig Girl
“Masterful storytelling.A sweeping, immersive and utterly perfect debut of a new talent and a fresh perspective on the Indian diaspora.In its multilayered, nuanced way, this novel will teach you about the strength of family, the force of love, the power of hope and the resilience of spirit. In other words, HABITATIONS will take you fearlessly by the hand and remind you of the purpose of living.”—WEIKE WANG, author ofChemistryandJoan is Okay
“Sundar’s debut novel is a wondrous mix of quiet heartache and unexpected hope, making it the best kind of literary fiction.… Sundar’s focus on the evolution of Vega’s inner and outer lives through relationships brings a vitally important lens to the thematic preoccupations of roots, home, migrant identity, and motherhood. The crisp plot and uncluttered writing make Habitations a remarkable first novel.”—Booklist
“Sundar debuts with an earnest meditation on an Indian American graduate student’s grief, loneliness, and longing…a fresh perspective on the pressures of motherhood and desire for self-fulfillment… This leaves readers with much to chew on.” –Publisher's Weekly
“A debut novel that explores the contours of grief and globalization with conviction…. The story unfolds episodically, in a good way; in Sundar’s hands, the scenes tumble together hypnotically. The book captures a moment in time—before smartphones and social media as we know them today—among a particular set of people who cross international borders for higher education and enticing opportunities. The catch is that their lives can be as circ*mscribed by capricious visa policies and systemic prejudices as by any personal limitations. This yields a sense of transience; Sundar captures the cascades of smaller griefs as Vega and the people in her universe develop close ties when they overlap in cities and on campuses, then move on for coursework, jobs, fellowships, and family.”—Kirkus
“There are many reasons to love this novel. Vega’s journey will resonate in one way or another with anyone who has suffered loss or struggled with self-doubt. Sundar’s supporting characters and rich depiction of immigrant life round out Vega’s story, no doubt drawing on the author’s own experience growing up in the ’90s as the child of Indian immigrants to the U.S. Best of all, the novel speaks to the human experience of how the burdens we carry eventually come to define our strengths. Insightful and hopeful, Habitations delivers on all fronts.”—BookPage
“HABITATIONS will stun you. This debut maps, with deep artistry and sensitivity, the interior terrain of a brilliant scholar, an immigrant who carries the childhood loss of her beloved sister no matter where she goes. The story's attention to the small details of itinerantlives reminded me of Gurnah's beautiful GRAVEL HEART.In Vega, Sheila Sundar has rendered a character of remarkable subtlety, one who bristles with intelligence and life as she seeks new homes among aninternationalcommunity of travelers many of us will recognize. As these friends throw their doors open to Vega, you will want to do the same.”—V. V. GANESHANANTHAN, author of Love Marriage and Brotherless Night]]>
The long struggle is over at last. The demon dactyl is no more, its dark sorceries shattered by the gemstone magic wielded by the woman known as Pony. But victory did not come easily. Many lives were lost, including Pony’s lover, the elf-trained ranger Elbryan Wynden.
Yet despite the dactyl’s demise, the kingdom still seethes in the same cauldron of plots and machinations. Was it for this, Pony wonders, that her beloved gave his life? Assailed by grief and doubt, Pony retreats to the northern lands where she and Elbryan once shared their brief happiness. There, among old friends, her wounded spirit can begin to heal.
Then a deadly sickness appears suddenly among the people of Corona. Only Pony, with her supreme magical abilities, can heal the victims…or so she believes. But the plague resists her as if possessed by a malevolent strength and intelligence all its own.
Now Pony must undertake a pilgrimage that will test her powers—and her faith—as never before. Watchful eyes follow her: the eyes of the elves who have stolen something precious from her and keep it for their own mysterious purposes. And the eyes of the man she hates above all else: Marcalo De’Unnero, the villain responsible for Elbryan’s death…who would desire nothing more than to lead Pony down that same treacherous path to destruction.]]>
CHAPTER 1 THE SHOW OF STRENGTH
THE MUD SUCKED AT HIS boots as he walked along the narrow, smoky corridor, a procession of armored soldiers in step behind him. The conditions were not to his liking—he didn’t want his “prisoners” growing obstinate, after all.
Around a bend in the tunnel the light increased and the air cleared, and before Duke Targon Bree Kalas loomed a wider and higher chamber, its one entrance securely barred. Kalas motioned to a soldier behind him, and the man hustled forward, fumbling with keys and hastily unlocking the cell door. Other soldiers tried to slip by, to enter the cell protectively before their leader, but Kalas slapped them back and strode in.
A score of dwarvish faces turned his way, the normally ruddy-complexioned powries seeming a bit paler after months imprisoned underground.
Kalas studied those faces carefully, noting the narrowing of eyes, a reflection, he knew, of seething hatred. It wasn’t that the powries hated him particularly, but rather that they merely hated any human.
Again, almost as one, the dwarves turned away from him, back to their conversations and myriad games they had invented to pass the tedious hours.
One of the soldiers began calling them to attention, but Duke Kalas cut him short and waved him and the others back. Then he stood by the door, calmly, patiently letting them come to him.
“Yach, it’s to wait all the damned day if we isn’t to spake with it,” one powrie said at last. The creature removed its red beret—a cap shining bright with the blood of its victims—and scratched its itchy, lice-filled hair, then replaced the cap and hopped up, striding to stand before the Duke.
“Ye comin’ down to see our partyin’?” the dwarf asked.
Kalas didn’t blink, staring at the powrie sternly. This dwarf, the leader, was always the sarcastic one, and he always seemed to need a reminder that he had been captured while waging war on the kingdom, that he and his wretched little fellows were alive only by the grace of Duke Kalas.
“Well?” the dwarf, Dalump Keedump by name, went on obstinately.
“I told you that I would require your services at the turn of the season,” Duke Kalas stated quietly.
“And we’re to be knowin’ that the season’s turned?” Keedump asked sarcastically. He turned to his fellows. “Are ye thinkin’ the sun to be ridin’ lower in the sky these days?” he asked with a wicked little laugh.
“Would you like to see the sun again?” Duke Kalas asked him in all seriousness.
Dalump Keedump eyed him long and hard. “Ye think ye’re to break us, then?” the dwarf asked. “We spent more time in a barrelboat, tighter and dirtier than this, ye fool.”
Kalas let a long moment slip past, staring at the dwarf, not daring to blink. Then he nodded slightly and turned, leaving the cell, pulling its door closed behind him as he returned to the muddy corridor with his soldiers. “Very well, then,” he said. “Perhaps I will return in a few days—the first face you will see, I assure you. Perhaps after you have murdered some of your companions for food, you will better hear my propositions.” And he walked away, as did his men, having every intention of carrying through with his threat.
He had gone several steps before Dalump called out to him. “Ye came all the way down here. Ye might as well be tellin’ us what ye gots in mind.”
Kalas smiled and moved back to the cell door. Now the other dwarves, suddenly interested in the conversation, crowded behind Dalump.
“Extra rations and more comfortable bedding,” the Duke teased.
“Yach, but ye said we’d be walkin’ free!” Dalump Keedump protested. “Or sailin’ free, on a boat back to our homes.”
“In time, my little friend, in time,” Kalas replied. “I am in need of an enemy, that I might show the rabble the strength of the Allhearts and thus bring them the security they desperately need. Assist me in this, and the arrangements will be made for your release soon enough.”
Another of the dwarves, his face a mask of frustration, rushed forward, shouldering past Dalump. “And if we doesn’t?” he asked angrily.
Duke Kalas’ fine sword was out in the blink of a powrie eye, its point snapping against the obstinate fellow’s throat, pressing firmly. “If you do not, then so be it,” Kalas said calmly, turning to eye Dalump directly as he spoke. “From our first meeting, I have been clear in my intentions and honest in our deal-ings. Choose your course, Dalump Keedump, and accept the consequences.”
The powrie leader glared at his upstart second.
“Fairly caught,” Duke Kalas reminded, rather poignantly, considering that his sword was still out and the statement was true enough. Dalump and his group had been fairly caught on the field of battle, as they had attacked this city. Duke Kalas was bound by no codes or rules in dealing with the powries. He could execute them openly and horribly in Palmaris’ largest square, or he could let them starve to death down here in the dungeons beneath Chasewind Manor, forgotten by all.
Dalump shifted his gaze back and forth between Kalas and the upstart powrie, his expression hinting that he wanted to choke them both—wanted to choke anybody or anything—just to relieve the mounting frustration accompanying this wretched situation. “Tell me yer stinkin’ plan,” he reluctantly agreed.
Duke Kalas nodded and smiled again.
DUKE KALAS WALKED ONTO THE rear balcony of Chasewind Manor early in the morning a few days later. The air was heavy with fog and drizzle, a perfectly miserable day, but one to Kalas’ liking. It had turned warmer again, though they still had more than a month before the winter solstice. The remnants of the previous blizzard, winter’s first blast, were fast melting, and the reports Kalas had received the day before indicated that grass was showing again on the windblown western fields.
That fact, plus the gathering storm clouds in the west threatening a second storm, had prompted the Duke’s action, and now, with the poor visibility, he could not have asked for a better morning. He heard the door open behind him, and he turned to see King Danube Brock Ursal step out to join him.
He was a few years older than his dear friend Kalas, and rounder in the middle, but his hair remained thick and black, and his beard, a new addition, showed no signs of graying.
“I hope to sail within the week,” Danube remarked. Kalas was not surprised, since Bretherford, Duke of the Mirianic and commander of the King’s navy, had indicated as much to him the previous evening.
“You will have favorable weather all the way back to Ursal,” Duke Kalas assured his beloved king, though he feared the decision to travel. If winter weather came on again with the fleet still in the northern waters of the Masur Delaval, the result could be catastrophic.
“So Bretherford believes,” said Danube. “In truth, I am more concerned about the situation I leave behind.”
Kalas looked at him, his expression wounded.
“Brother Braumin seems formidable and, to the common man, likable,” Danube elaborated. “And if the woman Jilseponie stands by him—along with Markwart’s former lackey Francis—then their appeal to the folk of Palmaris will be considerable. I remind you that Brother Francis endeared himself to the people in the last days of Markwart, when he served the city as bishop.”
Kalas could find little to dispute, for he and Danube had discussed the situation at length many times since the fall of Markwart and the hero, Elbryan, in this very house.
“Jilseponie has formally refused your offer, then?” Kalas asked.
“I will speak with her one last time,” King Danube replied, “but I doubt that she will comply. Old Je’howith has spent much time in St. Precious, and has indicated to me that the woman is truly broken and without ambition.”
The mere mention of Je’howith, the abbot of Ursal’s St. Honce and a close adviser to Danube, made Kalas narrow his eyes suspiciously. It was no secret among the court that Je’howith hated Jilseponie above all others. He had been Markwart’s man, and she and her dead lover had killed Markwart, had turned his secure little church world upside down. Je’howith had pushed King Danube to raise the woman to the position of baroness. With Pony in secular circles, answerable to the King, her influence on the Church would come from outside, far less dangerous, to Je’howith’s thinking, than from inside.
“Abbot Je’howith favors the appointment of Jilseponie as baroness,” Danube pointedly reminded Kalas.
“Abbot Je’howith would more favor her execution,” Kalas replied.
Danube gave a laugh at the irony. At one point, both Pony and Elbryan, imprisoned in St. Precious, had been slated for execution by Father Abbot Markwart.
Their conversation was interrupted by a tumult in the grand house behind them.
“Reports of a powrie force outside the western wall,” Duke Kalas explained with a wry grin.
“You play a dangerous game,” the King returned, then he nodded, for he did not disagree with the necessity of the ruse. “I will not go to the wall,” he decided, though he and Kalas had previously spoken of his attendance. “Thus will suspicions of any conspiracy be lessened.”
Duke Kalas paused, staring thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
The King’s other close adviser—but one who was unaware of Kalas’ strategem, a lady of the court named Constance Pemblebury—came through the balcony doors, her face flushed. “Bloody cap powries,” she said breathlessly. “There are reports that they are attacking the western gate!”
Kalas put on an alarmed expression. “I’ll rouse the Allhearts,” he said, and he rushed from the balcony.
Constance moved beside the King, who draped an arm casually about her and kissed her cheek. “Fear not, dear Constance,” he said. “Duke Kalas and his charges will more than meet the attack.”
Constance nodded and seemed to calm a bit. She knew the proud Allheart Brigade well, had seen their splendor on the field many times. Besides, how could she be afraid, up here on the balcony of the magnificent Chasewind Manor, in the arms of the man she adored?
SHE WOKE TO THE SOUNDS of shouting, lifted her head from her pillow just as a brown-robed monk ran by her small room, crying, “Powries! Powries at the western gate!”
Pony’s eyes popped open and she scrambled out of her bed. Not much could rouse her from her grieving lethargy, but the cry “Powries,” those wretched and tough murderous dwarves, made her blood boil with rage. She was dressed and out the door in moments, rushing along the dim corridors of St. Precious, finally finding brothers Braumin Herde, Francis, Anders Castinagis, and Marlboro Viscenti gathered together in the nave of the abbey’s large chapel—the same chapel wherein Pony had married Connor Bildeborough all those years ago.
“Are they in the city?” she asked.
“We know not,” said Francis, seeming calm indeed.
Pony spent a long moment studying him. Once she had considered Francis a hated enemy, had watched Elbryan beat him senseless in the bowels of St.-Mere-Abelle, but what a change had come over the man since the revelations and subsequent fall of Father Abbot Markwart! Pony still held no love for him, but she had come to trust him somewhat.
“They are out beyond the west wall, so say the reports,” Brother Braumin put in. “Whether they have breached the city—”
“Or even whether or not those reports are accurate,” Brother Viscenti, a nervous little man with fast-thinning light brown hair and far too many twitches, quickly added. When Braumin looked at him hard, he continued. “The people remain nervous. Are such frantic reports to be believed out of hand?”
“True enough,” said Braumin. “But, still, we must assume that the report is accurate.”
Another group of monks hustled in then, the lead brother waving a bag in front of him.
Pony understood without even asking. They had brought gemstones—mostly hematite, likely, that any wounds might be magically tended.
“Out to the wall we go,” Brother Braumin said to her as the others started away. “Will you join us?”
Pony thought on it for just a moment. She wanted nothing to do with any battles, in truth, but neither could she ignore the responsibility laid before her. If there were powries outside Palmaris’ western gate, then likely there would be fighting, and any fighting against powries would mean wounded men. No one in all Corona could wield the gemstones as powerfully as Pony. Was there a wound she could not heal?
One, at least, she reminded herself, the one in her own heart.
She followed Brother Braumin out to the city’s western wall.
FROM AN ALLEY, DUKE KALAS watched the bustle upon the western wall. “There!” one man cried, and the city guardsmen nearly fell over themselves trying to bring their bows to bear, letting fly a volley of arrows into the mist that likely hit nothing but grass.
They were frightened, Kalas recognized, scared nearly witless. The folk of Palmaris had been involved in more fighting than those of any other major city in Honce-the-Bear during the war, and their city guard had done themselves proud. But they had had their fill of it, Kalas knew, and no one who had ever battled powries wanted another fight with the rugged dwarves.
Unless, of course, they had made a previous agreement with the dwarves concerning how that battle would go.
More cries arose and more arrows flew out from the wall. Then a large group near the center of the crowd cried out and scrambled away, many leaping the ten feet from the parapet back to the ground.
A moment later came a thunderous report as something heavy slammed into the wall.
Kalas smiled; his gunners had spent the better part of the previous day lining up that catapult shot perfectly so that it would hit the wall but do no real damage.
In response, another volley of arrows went out from the wall into the mist, and then a series of howls, shouts, and the gravelly voices of the rugged powries came back at them.
Duke Kalas slipped back into the shadows as another group—Abellican monks and the woman Jilseponie—rushed to join those soldiers and commoners at the wall. The Duke observed their arrival with mixed feelings. He was glad that the monks had come, and especially thrilled that beautiful Jilseponie would witness this moment of his glory. But he was also trepidatious. Might Jilseponie take up a gemstone and lay low the powries?
With that disturbing thought in mind, Kalas rushed back to the other end of the alley and waved his arm, the signal to the trumpeters, then ran to his large pony, the lead To-gai-ru pinto in the line of fifty armored Allheart knights.
From nearly every rooftop in the area, it seemed, the trumpets blared, the rousing battle chorus of the mighty Allheart Brigade. All heads along the wall turned at the sound and at the ensuing thunder of pounding hooves.
“Throw wide the gates!” came a commanding cry. The city guardsmen rushed to pull wide the western gates, opening the path.
Out they went, bursting through the gate and onto the field, their silvery armor gleaming despite the dim light of the drizzly day. With practiced precision, they brought their powerful ponies into a wedge formation, Duke Kalas at the point.
The trumpet song continued a few moments longer, and then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. All on the wall hushed and gawked at the spectacle of the legendary Allheart Brigade. Even Pony, who had seen so much, could not miss the majesty of the moment, the King’s finest soldiers in their bright plate mail. Could any force in all the kingdom, in all the world, stand against them?
At that moment, to Pony, who had felled giants with strokes of magical lightning, who had witnessed Avelyn blasting away the top of a mountain with an amethyst, it didn’t seem so.
In a powerful swift motion, Duke Kalas brought his sword from its scabbard and raised it high into the air.
All was silent, the brief moment of calm before the battle.
From somewhere out in the mist, a powrie cursed.
The charge was on—the blare of trumpets, the thunder of horses, the clash of steel, and the cries of battle.
From the wall, Pony and the others couldn’t see much, just ghostly forms rushing to and fro in the fog. But then one group of powries burst out of the mist, charging for the wall. Before the archers could level their bows, before Pony could even take the offered graphite stone from Brother Braumin, Duke Kalas and a group of knights charged out behind the dwarves, trampling and slashing, disposing of them in mere seconds, then whirling their superb To-gai-ru ponies and thundering back across the field.
Some of those on the wall uttered a few prayers, but most remained hushed in disbelief, for never had they seen a band of tough powries so completely and easily overwhelmed.
Out in the mist, the sounds of battle began to recede, the powries obviously in flight, the Duke and his men giving chase.
The hundreds on or near Palmaris’ western wall broke out into cheers for the Duke, the new Baron of Palmaris.
“Pray they are not being baited,” Brother Francis remarked, an obvious fear given the ease of the rout.
Pony, standing quietly next to him, staring hard at the opaque veil that had kept so much from her eyes, didn’t fear that possibility. She simply had a sense that it was not so, that Kalas and his Allheart knights had not gone off into great danger.
Something about the whole battle hadn’t seemed… right.
She thought about taking up a hematite then, and spirit-walking across the field, through the veil of mist to watch the Duke’s moves more closely. But she dismissed the notion with a shake of her head.
“What is it?” the observant Brother Braumin asked.
“Nothing at all,” Pony replied, running her hand through her damp mop of thick blond hair. She continued to stare out at the mist, continued to listen to the cries of battle and dying powries, continued to feel that something here was not quite right. “Nothing at all.”
FROM A COPSE ACROSS THE field, another set of eyes curiously watched the spectacle of battle. Bedraggled, wet, and miserable with a scraggly beard, his monk’s robes long ago tattered by inner demons, Marcalo De’Unnero could not understand how a substantial powrie force—and he figured any force that would go so boldly against Palmaris had to be substantial—had arrived on the field so suddenly without his noticing the approach. He had been here for several days, seeking food and shelter, trying to stay alive and stay sane. He had watched every movement of the few farmers who had dared to come back out from within the walls of their city, to sit buttoned down in their modest homes for the winter. He had spent long hours studying the graceful movements of the skittish animals.
Mostly De’Unnero had watched the animals, his primary prey. He could sense their moods now, could see the world as they did, and he had noted no unusual smell of fear in the air that any approaching army, especially one dragging machines as large as catapults, would likely provoke.
So where had the powries come from?
De’Unnero made his way back into the copse and through the trees, at last sighting the catapult—just a single war engine—and its crew, its human crew, in a small lea amid the trees. The gunners, as far as he had discerned, had lobbed but a single shot and appeared in no hurry to load and fire another.
“Clever Duke Kalas,” De’Unnero, the former brother justice, remarked, figuring out the ruse and the purpose behind it.
He hushed immediately, hearing the snap of a twig not so far away. Close enough for him to smell the blood.
“Yach, damned swordsman,” he heard a powrie grumble, then he spotted the bloody cap dwarf, trudging along a path.
Then De’Unnero spotted the gash on the dwarf’s shoulder, a bright line of blood crystal clear to him despite the fog. Yes, he saw it and smelled it, the sweet fragrance filling his nostrils, permeating his senses.
He felt the first convulsions of change an instant later, growled quietly against the sudden, sharp pains in his fingers and toes, and then in his jaw—the transformation of the jaw always hurt the most.
De’Unnero’s shoulders lurched forward suddenly as his spine twisted. He fell to all fours, but that was a more comfortable position anyway, as his hips rotated.
Now he was a cat, a great orange, black-striped tiger.
“Damned,” the approaching powrie cursed. “Said ’e wouldn’t hit me so hard!”
The last words vanished in the powrie’s throat as the dwarf came on guard, sensing suddenly that he was not alone. He started to turn back, but swung in a terrified rush as the brush rustled and the great cat leaped over him, bearing him to the ground with frightening speed and ease. The dwarf flailed wildly and tried to call out, but the cat paws were quicker and stronger, hooking leathery skin and forcing the powrie’s arms away. The powerful jaws clamped onto his throat.
A moment later, De’Unnero began his morning meal.
His keen senses soon discerned the sounds of others approaching—horsem*n and cursing dwarves—so he bit into the dead powrie’s shoulder and dragged the meal away.
“YE KILT THEM TO DEATH in battle!” Dalump Keedump accused, spitting with every word, waggling his stubby finger at Duke Kalas, who sat tall astride his brown-and-white To-gai-ru pony, seeming unconcerned.
“I told you that several might die,” Kalas replied.
“Too many!” grumbled another dwarf, the same one who had challenged Kalas in the dungeons of Chasewind Manor those days before. “Ye’re a lyin’ bastard dog.”
A single urging kick sent the Duke’s well-trained pony into a leap that brought him right by the powrie; and with a single fluid motion, Kalas, as fine a warrior as Honce-the-Bear had to offer, brought his shining sword out and swiped down, lopping off the powrie’s head.
“You think this a game?” the Duke cried at Dalump, at all the remaining powries. “Shall we cut you all down here and now and make our victory complete?”
Dalump Keedump, hardly frightened by the death of several of his kinfolk—in fact, a bit relieved that Kalas had finally disposed of the loudmouth—hooked his stubby thumbs under the edges of his sleeveless tunic and tilted his head, staring hard at the Duke. “I’m thinkin’ that our blood just bought us a boat fer home,” he said.
Duke Kalas calmed, stared long at the dwarf, and then nodded his head. “In the spring,” he agreed, “as soon as the weather permits. And you will be treated well until then, with warm blankets and extra food.”
“Keep yer blankets and get us some human women for warmin’,” Dalump pressed.
Kalas nearly gave the command to slaughter the rest of the powries then and there. He’d keep his word to let this group go free, back to their distant homeland, and he would make sure that they fared better in the dungeons over the winter, with more supplies. But if he ever saw a grubby powrie hand anywhere near a human woman, even a lowly peasant whor*, he’d surely cut it off and then take the powrie’s head, as well.
“Drag them back in chains tonight,” he instructed one of his knights, “as quietly as possible. Tell any city guards that the captured dwarves will be interrogated and summarily executed, then put them back in their cell.”
Kalas spun his pony and started away, his closest commanders hurrying to get their mounts at his side. The Duke stopped, and turned back. “Count the dead and the living and scour the field,” he instructed. “Every powrie is to be accounted for.”
“Ye think we’d stay in yer miserable land any longer than we’re havin’ to?” Dalump Keedump asked, but Kalas simply ignored him.
His triumphant return into the city awaited.
THEY CAME OUT OF THE mist more gloriously than they had entered, the Duke and his men, and the grime and blood of battle only made their armor seem all the more brilliant.
Duke Kalas drew out his bloodstained sword and lifted it high into the air. “Honor in battle, victory to the King!” he cried, the motto of the mighty Allheart Brigade. Nearly every person on or near the western wall was cheering wildly, and most were crying.
Duke Kalas soaked it all in, reveling in the glory of the moment, in the triumph that would strengthen his, and thus, King Danube’s, grasp upon this fragile frontier city. He swept his gaze along the wall, taking in the relieved and appreciative expressions but then lingering on one figure who was neither crying nor cheering.
Still, Kalas was thrilled to see that beautiful and dangerous Jilseponie had witnessed his glorious moment.
Much to the seething dismay of his long-time mistress, King Danube has asked Julsepnie Wyndon to become his queen. But she is torn. How can she love any man as completely as she did the Ranger Elbryan, the father of the child she lost? But unknown to Jilseponie, that child never died. Aydrian was stolen away by the queen of the elves.
A headstrong boy secretly raised to be a weapon, Aydrian shows great promise in the arts of combat, and he is as powerful with the gemstone as his mother. Now, De’Unnero, the weretiger and mortal enemy of Jilseponie, will join forces with Aydrian, who is hungry for power and on a collision course with destiny.
Building upon the events in Mortalis, #1 New York Times bestselling author R.A. Salvatore continues the fresh second trilogy within the DemonWars saga with his fifth book in the series.]]>
CHAPTER 1 THE SECOND DIMENSION
YOUR BODY IS THE CONDUIT,” Lady Dasslerond explained, trying very hard to hide her exasperation. She leaned back against a birch tree, ruffling her nearly transparent elven wings and tossing her head carelessly, sending her golden locks back over her delicate shoulders. She was the only elf who truly understood the magical gemstones, having worked intimately with her powerful emerald for centuries. Thus, Dasslerond had taken on this part of young Aydrian’s training herself, the first time a human had ever been trained in the gemstone magic by one of the Touel’alfar.
The young man, nearly a foot-and-a-half taller than Dasslerond’s four-foot height, grimaced and clutched the gemstone, a lightning-producing graphite, all the tighter, as if he meant to squeeze the magical energy out of it. He was built much like his father, strong and muscular, with wide shoulders and corded muscles, but many of his features favored his mother—of whom he knew practically nothing.
At first, Dasslerond thought to correct him again, but when she noted the intensity on Aydrian’s face, she decided to allow him these moments of personal revelations. The lady of Caer’alfar could hardly suppress her grin as she watched the concentrating Aydrian—her Aydrian, the young human she believed would become the savior of her people. Though she wasn’t overfond of the lumbering, larger folk, Dasslerond could not deny that this one was handsome, with his thick shock of blond hair and his piercing blue eyes; his lips, full like those of his mother; and his jaw strong and square, a chin and chiseled cheekbones quite familiar to the lady who had overseen the training of Elbryan the Nightbird. Yes, this one had the best features of both his parents, it seemed, a beauty brought out all the more because he was growing up in the splendor of Andur’Blough Inninness, a place of health and vitality. In just the last year, Aydrian’s lanky frame had thickened considerably, his weight blossoming from a slight hundred and twenty pounds to a hundred and sixty and more, and not an ounce of it was fat. He was all sinew and muscle, all cords of strength; but unlike other humans, there was a suppleness to the young man’s muscles, an incredible flexibility that made his work with bi’nelle dasada all the more graceful.
Aydrian was far from finished growing, Dasslerond knew. His father had topped six feet, and so would Aydrian, and easily; and the lady suspected that he would range well on the other side of two hundred pounds. Yes, physically he would be a specimen—he already was!—to make people stop and stare. But his real strength, Dasslerond hoped, would be less visible, would be in the pure focus of his well-disciplined mind. He would outfight any man and any elf, any goblin or even the great giants; but a greater woe would befall his enemies when Aydrian combined this second talent, this training with the magical gemstones. His mother was among the most powerful stone users in all the world, so it was said; and so, Dasslerond demanded, would this Aydrian be.
He grimaced and groaned, squeezing the gemstone, calling to it, demanding of it that it let its energies flow forth.
“It is not a contest of wills—” Dasslerond started to say, but before she could finish, there came a sharp crackle of arcing blue light, snapping out of Aydrian’s hand and flickering downward to slam into the grass at his feet. The resulting report sent both the young man and the elven lady into the air. While Dasslerond caught herself and retained her balance by using her small wings, Aydrian came down hard, stumbling back and finally just allowing himself to tumble into a momentum-stealing backward somersault. He came to his feet, staring incredulously at the small gray gemstone, looking from it to the blackened spot on the green grass of the hillock.
Lady Dasslerond looked from the boy to the spot, at a loss for words. She knew that he had done it wrong, so very wrong! Gemstone magic was a cooperative interaction between the wielder and the stone, and the powers of an enchanted gemstone could not be pulled forth by brute force of will. And yet Aydrian had just done that, had just fought a battle of wills with an insentient energy… and had won!
Dasslerond looked at him then, at the smug, satisfied smile on his handsome face. Something else showed there, something the lady of Caer’alfar found strangely unsettling. She had watched the progress of dozens of rangers in her life, and always there would be a series of breakthroughs that the humans in training would realize. Those breakthroughs were often met with smiles of joy, sometimes with a grim nod, but always with a profound satisfaction, for the tests of the Touel’alfar were not easily passed. So it was with Aydrian now, his expression falling into the latter category more than the first, for there was no joy on his face. Just grim satisfaction and, the lady recognized, even something a bit more than that, something akin to the look of a heartless conqueror, supremely arrogant and taking more joy in the defeat of his enemy than in the attainment of any other goal. Logically, Lady Dasslerond knew that she shouldn’t have expected less from this young one—the elves had trained him from birth to be just that kind of force—but the look of sheer intensity on Aydrian’s face, the effort necessary for him to have forced out the gemstone powers in such a confrontational manner, gave Dasslerond definite pause.
There was an inner strength in this one beyond her expectations. Logically, and given the monumental task she had in mind for him, Dasslerond knew that to be a good thing, but still…
She started to go into her gemstone training litany again, the speech she had delivered to Aydrian several times already about working in unison with the powers of the stone instead of battling against them. But the lady was too tired of it all at that moment and too taken aback by the display she had just witnessed.
“You will work with the gemstones again, and soon,” she said finally, holding out her hand for Aydrian to give her back the graphite.
The young man’s blue eyes glowered fiercely for just a moment—an impetuous moment, but telling, Dasslerond realized, of his true desire to keep the stone. Clearly this work with the gemstones had awakened something within the boy, some deep emotion, a flicker, perhaps, of power beyond anything he had ever believed possible. And he wanted that power, the lady understood without the slightest doubt. He wanted to work it and master it and dominate it. That was good, for he had to be driven, had to achieve the very highest levels of power if her plans for him were to come to fruition. However, like the sheer willpower he had just shown in tearing the magic from the stone, this level of ambition, so clearly reflected in those striking and imposing eyes, warned Dasslerond of something potentially ominous.
The moment passed quickly, and Aydrian obediently walked over and placed the graphite in Dasslerond’s hand, offering only a shrug and a quick flash of a sheepish smile as he did.
Dasslerond saw that smile for what it was: a feint. If Aydrian’s true feelings at having to relinquish that gemstone had been honestly expressed in a smile, she figured, he would have had to grow fangs.
BRYNN DHARIELLE WAS DOWN IN the field below him, tacking up Diredusk, the smallish but muscular stallion that Belli’mar Juraviel had brought to Andur’Blough Inninness for her training several years before. All the Touel’alfar were there this night as well, most sitting among the boughs of the trees lining the long, narrow field and many holding torches. Juraviel, whom the other elves were now calling Marra-thiel Touk, or Snow Goose—a teasing reference to his apparent wanderlust—and another elf, To’el Dallia, were on the field with Brynn, chatting with her, and probably, Aydrian figured, instructing her.
Because that’s what the elves always did, the young man thought with a smirk. Instruct and criticize. It was their unrelenting way. How many times Aydrian had wanted to look To’el Dallia, who was his secondary instructor after Lady Dasslerond—or even the great lady of Caer’alfar herself—square in the eye and scream for them to just leave him alone! Several times, particularly in the last year, such an impulse had been nearly overwhelming, and only Aydrian’s recollection that he really did not have much time—a few decades, perhaps—coupled with the understanding that he had much left to learn from the Touel’alfar, had kept his tongue in check.
Still, the boy, who thought of himself as a young man, would not always play by the rules of his “instructors.” Even on this moonlit night, for he had been explicitly told to stay away from Brynn’s challenge, had been told that this event was for her eyes and the eyes of the Touel’alfar alone.
Yet here he was, lying in the grass of a steep knoll above the narrow field. He had already congratulated himself many times for learning well the lessons the elves had taught him concerning stealth.
His thoughts turned outward a moment later, when Juraviel and To’el moved away from the saddled and bridled horse, and Brynn Dharielle—the only other human Aydrian had ever known, a ranger-in-training several years his senior—gracefully swung up into the saddle. She settled herself comfortably with a bit more shifting than usual—a certain indication of her nervousness, Aydrian knew—and shook her long hair from in front of her face. She didn’t look anything like Aydrian, which had surprised him somewhat because in his eyes most of the Touel’alfar looked much alike, and he had presumed that humans would resemble one another as well. But he was fair-skinned with light hair and bright blue eyes, while Brynn, of To-gai heritage, had skin the golden-brown color of quiola hardwood, hair the color of a raven’s wing, and eyes as dark and liquid as Aydrian’s were bright and crystalline. Even the shape of her eyes did not resemble his, having more of a teardrop appearance.
Nor did her body resemble his, though, as with Aydrian, Brynn’s years of superb training had honed her muscles to a perfect edge. But she was thin and lithe, a smallish thing, really, while Aydrian’s arms were already beginning to thicken with solid muscle. Elven males and females did not look so disparate, for all were thin, skinny even, and while the female elves had breasts, they didn’t look anything like the globes that now adorned Brynn’s chest.
Looking at her did something to Aydrian’s psyche, and to his body, that he could not understand. He hadn’t had much contact with her in his early days in Andur’Blough Inninness, but in the last couple of years, mostly because of Juraviel, she had become one of his closest companions. Of late, though, he often found himself wondering why his palms grew so sweaty whenever he was near her or why he wanted to inhale more deeply when he was close enough to her to catch her sweet scent…
Those distracting thoughts flew away suddenly as Brynn pulled back on Diredusk’s reins, urging the horse into a rear and a great whinny. Then, with the suddenness of a lightning strike, the young ranger whirled her mount and galloped down to the far end of the field. Another elf came out of the trees there, handing Brynn a bow and a quiver of arrows. Only then did Aydrian notice that six targets—man-sized and shaped and colored as if they were wearing white flowing robes—had been placed along the opposite edge of the field.
The young man chewed his lower lip in anticipation. He had seen Brynn ride a few times, and truly she was a sight to behold, seeming as if she were one with her steed, rider and mount of a single mind. He had never seen her at work with the bow, but from what he had heard—or overheard, for he had listened in on many of Dasslerond’s conversations with Juraviel concerning the young woman—Brynn was spectacular.
It seemed to Aydrian, then, as if all the forest suddenly went quiet; not a night bird calling or a cricket chirping, not a whisper of the seemingly ever-present elf song. Even the many torches seemed supernaturally quiet and still, a moment of the purest tension.
Only then did young Aydrian appreciate the gravity of the night and the weight of his intrusion. This was no simple test for Brynn, he realized. This was something beyond that, some essential proving, a critical culmination, he suspected, of her training.
He had to consciously remind himself to breathe.
SHE SAW THE DISTANT TARGETS, mere silhouettes in the torchlight and moonlight. It somewhat unnerved Brynn that the elves had chosen to fashion these targets in the likeness of Behrenese yatols, the hated enemies of the To-gai-ru, like her parents. Their resentment of the eastern kingdom’s conquest of To-gai and of the yatols’ insinuation into every tradition, even religion, of the nomadic To-gai-ru, had led to her parents’ murder. The yatols served the Chezru chieftain, who ruled all Behren. He was, it was rumored, an eternal being, an undiminished spirit who transferred from aged body to the spirit of a soon-to-be-born Behrenese male child. Thus, the loyalists of To-gai hated the present Chezru chieftain as much as his predecessor, who had sent his armies swarming into To-gai.
The young ranger knew her duty to her homeland. And so, apparently, did the elves!
She inspected her quiver—they had given her only eight arrows—and Juraviel’s last words to her had been unequivocal: “One pass.”
Brynn pulled back on the bow, which had been fashioned of darkfern by a prominent elven bowyer. Its draw was smooth and light, but Brynn had no doubt that it could send the arrows flying with deadly speed and precision.
She checked the arrows again; all were of good design and strength, but one seemed exceptional. Brynn put this one to the bowstring.
“Are you ready, Diredusk?” she asked quietly, patting the small stallion’s strong neck.
The horse neighed as if it understood, and Brynn smiled despite her fears, taking some comfort in her trusted mount.
She took a deep breath, called to the horse again, and touched her heels to Diredusk’s flanks, the stallion leaping away, thundering across the field. She could have taken a slower approach, she knew, so that she could get several shots away before having to make her first turn, but she let her emotions guide her, her desire to do this to perfection, her need to impress Lady Dasslerond and Juraviel and the others, her need to vent her anger at the cursed Behrenese.
At full gallop, she let go her first shot, and the arrow soared to thunk into one of the targets. A second was away even as the first hit, with Brynn leaning low to the right of steady Diredusk’s neck; and then the third whistled off as the second hit home.
Another hit, but to her horror, Brynn heard Juraviel cry out that it was not a mortal wound.
She had to take up the reins then, bending Diredusk to the right, but she dropped them almost immediately as the horse turned, set another arrow to her bowstring, and let fly, scoring a second, and this time critical, hit on the third target.
She had corrected her slight error, but Brynn had lost valuable time and strides in the process. She grabbed the reins in the same hand that held her bow and pulled forth an arrow with her other hand. She turned Diredusk to the left, bringing the horse into a run parallel with the line of targets, straight across the narrow width of the field.
Brynn threw her left leg over the horse, balancing sidesaddle as she took aim and let fly.
The fourth target shook from the impact, and then the fifth, just as Brynn started her second left turn, back the way she had come.
She heard Juraviel start to cry out—no doubt to remind her that one remained alive—but the elf’s voice trailed away as Brynn executed a maneuver she had been practicing in private, one that the To-gai-ru warriors had long ago perfected. She stood straight on Diredusk’s left flank, with only her left foot in a stirrup, and facing backward!
Off went her seventh arrow, and then her last, just in case.
She needn’t have worried, for the first shot struck the last target right in the heart, and the second hit home less than an inch from the first!
Brynn rolled back over Diredusk’s back, settling easily into her saddle and slinging her bow over one shoulder.
Her smile was brighter than the light of the full moon.
UP ON THE HILLOCK, AYDRIAN lay with his mouth open and his eyes growing dry, for he could hardly think to blink!
The younger ranger-in-training could not deny the beauty of Brynn Dharielle, nor the beauty and grace and sheer skill of her accomplishment this night. Whatever test the Touel’alfar might have intended for her, she had surely passed, and well enough to draw admiration, even awe, from her strict and uncompromising instructors. Aydrian could certainly appreciate that, would even be thrilled to see the elves flustered by the human’s incredible talent.
But at the same time, young Aydrian wished that he had a graphite gemstone in his possession that he might blow Diredusk right out from under the heroic Brynn.
Brave and beautiful Brynn Dharielle has ventured on a daring mission to free her beloved homeland from tyrannical rule. But she cannot imagine the depths of chaos and betrayal that seethes amid a ruthless sect of warrior priests led by an evil chieftain who conceals a dark, age-old secret. For Brynn and her trusted elven companion, the way to Behren turns into a fierce and illuminating voyage. But by the time Brynn reaches the land where she once saw her parents murdered, the seeds of revolution are already flourishing. The first salvo of a sweeping battle has begun—one that will threaten to destroy the heart and soul of her world.
In book six of the DemonWars saga, #1 New York Times bestselling author R.A. Salvatore continues the second trilogy of the saga in what Booklist raves “outstanding…Brynn Dharielle is a first-rate female high-fantasy protagonist.”]]>
In Honce-the-Bear, King Aydrian Boudabras wakes in a cold sweat, his conscience haunted by those he has killed in order to garner power, including the rightful king before him, Danube, his mother’s husband. Now, Aydrian is preparing his armies for war, forging loyalties, playing one adversary against another, and giving those around him barely a glimpse at his remarkable powers.
In the neighboring Behren, the evil Yatol Bardoh is unleashing a war engine of his own, using armies of mercenaries and horrific tactics to bring down the walls of Jacintha and to drive a ferocious dragon from the city of Dharyan.
Between these two men, an explosive chain of events has been set into motion. Refugees flood the roads and valleys, alliances are formed and broken, navies clash at sea, and assassins seek their moment to strike. With Aydrian’s power and popularity turning into an avalanche and the courageous Byrnn Dharielle valiantly standing in the way of the Yalot Bardoh, the great players in the DemonWars saga will unite and clash on a single, magnificent stage.
In book three of the second DemonWars trilogy, #1 New York Times bestselling author R. A. Salvatore concludes the second trilogy and gathers the whole arc of the seven books of the DemonWars saga in a stunning conclusion that Kirkus Reviews claims “fans will dance with joy” to experience.]]>
CHAPTER 1 THE SHADOW IN THE MIRROR
THE SHADOW IN THE MIRROR drew him in, and Aydrian could not get the thought of Jilseponie out of his mind. Unlike the unrelenting hatred he felt for the woman, a rush of warmth came over him, as if this shadow was communicating to him that Jilseponie was his answer here. Not for glory. Not for power.
For what, then?
Salvation?
Aydrian leaned back against the wall in the small darkened room he had set up for Oracle, this mystical connection to the shadows in the mirror. The elves had taught him Oracle, and had taught him that in looking into the mirror, he was seeing those who had gone before. Aydrian wasn’t sure of that. Perhaps Oracle was more a way for him to look within his own essence and heart. Perhaps these shadowy creatures he saw in the mirror—and he saw two, whereas others usually saw only one—were messengers of the gods, or his own attunement to godlike wisdom.
It was here, at Oracle, that Aydrian had learned to comprehend the power of the gemstones. It was here, at Oracle, that Aydrian had first come to understand the manner in which he might reach his coveted immortality—immortalis in the ancient tongue of man and elf.
So now he watched, basking in the continuing rush of warmth and softness that accompanied the thoughts of Jilseponie—imparted, he understood, by this one shadow. But then the second shadow appeared across the way, and Aydrian was immediately reminded of the truth of Jilseponie, that she had abandoned him to die, that she had, in effect, forced him into slavery at the hands of cruel Lady Dasslerond!
Moments later, all warmth and thoughts of some mystical salvation flew away from Aydrian, replaced by his hatred for the witch Jilseponie, the pretend queen. He watched as the two shadows came together, not to blend into something larger and greater, but in an apparent attempt by each to overshadow the other.
Aydrian couldn’t help but grin at this continuing battle. Other people who knew the secret of Oracle saw one shadow, but he had two, and it was precisely that, these two warring viewpoints on every issue, that led Aydrian to realize that he was truly blessed. Unlike the lockstep fools who followed Oracle without question, Aydrian forced from Oracle the power of reasoned resolution. Each step was worked through logically and in his heart.
He laughed aloud, recognizing then that the first shadow was his own conscience, was the shackle the gods had placed about the neck of mortal men.
In that revelation, the issue of Jilseponie was settled once more. The witch would watch his rise to greatness beyond anything the world had ever known. She would die—of her guilt and with his smiling face watching her go—while he would live on forever.
Now very different images filtered through Aydrian’s thoughts. He visualized a map of Honce-the-Bear—the southern reaches, from Ursal to Entel, shaded red; the rest, uncolored. Like crawling fingers, the red began to spread. It moved north from Ursal to engulf Palmaris, and as soon as the city fell under his control, all of the Masur Delaval, the great river that cut through the kingdom, bloodied. In the east along the coast, the red moved north from Entel, sweeping along the Mantis Arm toward St.-Mere-Abelle.
Yes, Aydrian understood that the conquest of St.-Mere-Abelle would be the final victory to secure all of Honce-the-Bear south of the Gulf of Corona. The thought of that monastery, the seat of power for Father Abbot Fio Bou-raiy and the Abellican Church, made him consider another problem: what to do with Marcalo De’Unnero and Abbot Olin, both of whom desired to rule that Church?
Aydrian asked the shadows in the mirror. What of Abbot Olin?
He envisioned the map again, and now the red fingers crawled south of Entel, around the edge of the Belt-and-Buckle, to Jacintha, the seat of Behren’s power.
A knock on the door brought Aydrian from his contemplations, shattering the moment of Oracle. He looked up, his expression angry. But only for a moment, for as he considered what he had just seen, he realized that he had his answer.
THE COACH ROLLED THROUGH THE southern gate of Palmaris, much like any other. The city was open, for despite the rumors filtering up from Ursal, this was a time of peace in Honce-the-Bear. Thus no guards approached the coach or inspected its contents or passengers. If they had looked in through the curtained window, they might well have recognized the woman sitting there, though she seemed barely a shell of her former self.
Jilseponie was hardly aware that her driver had crossed into Palmaris. She sat quietly, her arms crossed before her, her face still showing the lines of the tears that had marked the first days out of Ursal. She wasn’t crying any longer, though.
She was just numb.
She could hardly comprehend the truth of Aydrian, could hardly believe that her child was not dead, but had been stolen from her by the elves and raised all these years apart from her. How could he have become the tyrant that she had seen in Ursal? How could a child born of her and Elbryan have become the monster that was Aydrian?
And he was a monster. Jilseponie knew that profoundly. He had torn Constance from the grave and, Jilseponie believed, had used her to murder Danube. He had stolen the throne of Ursal. And all of that under the guidance of Marcalo De’Unnero!
Marcalo De’Unnero!
To Jilseponie, there was no purer incarnation of evil than he, unless it was the demon dactyl Bestesbulzibar itself! How could Aydrian have taken up with the man who had murdered his own father?
It made no sense to Jilseponie, and in truth, the woman had not the strength to try to sort out the confusing morass.
Aydrian was alive.
Nothing else mattered, truly. No other questions could find their way to a reasoned conclusion within Jilseponie in light of that terrible and wonderful truth.
Aydrian was alive.
And he was the king, the unlawful king. And he was in league with De’Unnero and of like heart with the hated man.
That was all that mattered.
The coach lurched to a stop, and only then did Jilseponie realize that the road beneath them had turned from dirt to cobblestone, and that the fields beside them had changed to crowded streets, farmhouses to shops and taverns. The door opened and her driver, an older man with sympathetic eyes, offered her his hand.
“We’re here, milady Jilseponie,” he said tenderly.
Palmaris. A city Jilseponie had known as her home for much of her life. Here she had found refuge after the catastrophe that had destroyed Dundalis to the north. Here she had found her second family, the Chilichunks. Here she had married, though it had ended abruptly and disastrously. Here she had ruled as baroness. Here her friends presided over St. Precious. And here, Elbryan had been killed, as he and she had defeated the demon within Father Abbot Markwart. Moving as if in a dream, Jilseponie drifted out of the coach and onto the street. She was dressed modestly—not in any of the raiments suitable for the queen of Honce-the-Bear, surely—and so her appearance caused no stir among the folk moving about the crowded city avenue.
Jilseponie slowly looked around, absorbing the sights of the city she knew so well. Across the wide square stood St. Precious, the largest structure in the city, a soaring cathedral that could hold thousands within its stone walls, and that housed the hundred brothers under the leadership of Bishop Braumin Herde.
The thought of her friend had Jilseponie walking toward that cathedral, slowly at first, but then breaking into a run to the front door.
“Seems a one needin’ her soul mended, eh?” a passerby remarked to the old driver, who stood by the coach, watching her disappear into the abbey.
“More than you’d ever understand,” the driver replied absently, and with a sigh, he climbed back to his seat and turned his coach about, for the south road and Ursal. He had been explicitly instructed not to approach Bishop Braumin or any of the other leaders of the city, and while the old driver thought it strange that no formal emissary had come north from Ursal to this important second city, he knew enough of the history here to gather the motivation behind the silence.
King Aydrian, and more specifically, Marcalo De’Unnero, wanted to make the announcement personally.
“FEW IF ANY WILL OPPOSE you openly,” Aydrian said to Duke Kalas, as the pair, along with Marcalo De’Unnero, Abbot Olin, and some other commanders, stood about the large table in what Aydrian had turned into the planning room. A large map of Honce-the-Bear was spread before them, with the areas currently under Aydrian’s secure control, notably the southern stretch from Ursal to Entel, shaded in red—just as he had seen at Oracle.
“None will stand before my Allhearts,” Duke Kalas said.
Marcalo De’Unnero smirked at him, quietly mocking his proud posture. “Not openly, perhaps,” the monk corrected. “The key to our victory will be to look honestly into the hearts of those you leave in your wake. Will they accept King Aydrian? And if not, how great is their hatred? Enough for them to take up arms against him?”
“Most will do as they are told,” Abbot Olin insisted. “We have seen this before, during our march from Entel. The people care little who is leading them as king, as long as that king is gentle and fair toward them.” He looked to Aydrian. “I suggest that Duke Kalas’ journey be more a parade of celebration than the conquering march of an army. You are not invading the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear, after all, but rather spreading the word that the kingdom is rightfully yours.”
“Many might not see it that way,” Duke Kalas reminded. “Certainly, Prince Midalis and his followers…”
“Who are mostly in the distant land of Vanguard,” Abbot Olin went on. “You will find few along the road to Palmaris who readily embrace Prince Midalis, if they even know of the man. We must simply tell them the truth of the situation: that Aydrian is king, and accepted as such by the Ursal nobles. Almost to a man, the common folk will go along without argument.”
“For how could they begin to argue?” Marcalo De’Unnero added with a snicker, one that was shared about the table.
But not by Aydrian. “Let us not forget that he who leads Palmaris is a great friend to Jilseponie, and certainly no friend to Marcalo De’Unnero,” the young king pointedly reminded. “Bishop Braumin Herde will oppose us, no doubt.”
“Do you believe him foolish enough to denounce your authority?” Duke Kalas asked. “Do you believe that he will force the army of Ursal to crush the folk of Palmaris?”
“I know not, but certainly St. Precious will not open wide her doors to Marcalo De’Unnero and Abbot Olin,” Aydrian remarked.
De’Unnero looked to Olin, and then to Kalas. For that moment, at least, it seemed as if the fiery monk and the warrior duke were in complete agreement. Kalas even nodded as De’Unnero replied, “Then we will open the door for them.”
“St. Precious will be a fine prize,” Abbot Olin said. “I greatly anticipate seeing her halls.”
“But you will not,” Aydrian said bluntly, and the declaration brought looks of surprise from all about the table, particularly from Abbot Olin himself—and the old abbot’s expression fast shifted from startled to suspicious.
“Abbot Olin will have better and more pleasing duties to attend,” Aydrian explained to the curious stares. “We have all heard the reports of the tumult in Behren, of the revolt of the To-gai-ru and the downfall of the Chezru Chieftain. Behren is a country drifting aimlessly now, with no leader, spiritual or secular. Perhaps it is time for Honce-the-Bear to come to the aid of our southern brothers.”
“What are you saying?” De’Unnero asked incredulously.
“You believe that I should go to Jacintha?” Abbot Olin asked, almost as doubtfully. “To lend support and friendship?”
“To assume the mantle of leadership,” Aydrian declared, and the doubting expressions only magnified, and a few murmurs of disbelief followed. “We cannot allow this open door to close to us,” the king explained, and he began to walk about the table, settling his gaze on each leader in turn. “Not now. Behren is in desperate straits. The people have just learned that their Chezru religion was founded on a complete falsehood, and was in fact one based on the same gemstones that the Yatols use as proof that the Abellicans are demonic. The people of Behren are desperate, I say, for both a friend and a leader. Abbot Olin will be that man.”
“To what end?” De’Unnero demanded, and his tone drew a dangerous look from Aydrian.
“Behren will be mine, perhaps before the fall of Vanguard,” the young king explained to them all, and there was no room for debate within his tone.
“How thin will we stretch our armies?” De’Unnero asked.
“It will take fewer than you believe,” Aydrian shot right back. “We have the wealth to bribe enough of Jacintha’s garrison and the confused Yatols to our side. If this is done properly, and I hold all faith in Abbot Olin, our conquest of Jacintha will be nearly bloodless. And once Jacintha is ours, once we have given the people a new religion and a new hope to grab on to, once we have shown them that we are their friends and brothers, my kingdom will spread from Jacintha to engulf every Behrenese town.”
De’Unnero started to argue further, but Aydrian cut him off.
“I have seen this vision and I know it to be true,” Aydrian proclaimed. “Go to Entel, Abbot Olin. Speak with the pirate fleet we used to secure Entel from Danube. Duke Bretherford will support you with several warships. Gather enough of an army together, not to crush Behren, but to convince those scrambling for power there that you are the necessary alternative to the chaos that now grips their land. Our coffers are deep with gemstones.”
Before De’Unnero could argue further, which he obviously meant to do, Abbot Olin voiced his intrigue. “Could this be possible?” he asked, his eyes verily glowing.
Aydrian and everyone else spent a few moments studying the man. It was no secret in Honce-the-Bear that Abbot Olin of St. Bondabruce in Entel favored Behren, perhaps even over Honce-the-Bear. The reason this senior Abellican abbot had been defeated by Fio Bou-raiy in the last election for Father Abbot of the Church was his close association with Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan and the Behrenese people. To the Abellicans, Olin had always been a bit too comfortable with the southern kingdom.
And now here was Aydrian, hinting that the southern kingdom might be his.
“More than possible, it is likely,” Aydrian assured the eager man. “Understand, Abbot Olin, that you will come to Jacintha as a friend, and more than that, as a savior. The Yatol priests will follow you because you will bring them the security they have lost with the downfall of the Chezru Chieftain and the chaos it has created among the flock. And because you will pay them—they are a greedy lot!”
“Not all will abandon the way of Chezru,” Abbot Olin warned.
“But enough will to marginalize the others, and you will have enough power at your disposal to… well, to dispose of those who prove most troublesome. I expect that Jacintha will be yours, my friend Abbot Olin, and very quickly. And from there, I have no doubt that you will spread your influence and spiritual kingdom, and my secular kingdom, in rapid manner.”
Aydrian looked away from Olin, to the others. De’Unnero was staring at him blankly, trying to absorb it all, obviously, while Duke Kalas was just shaking his head, his expression still doubtful.
“Fear not, Duke Kalas, for Abbot Olin’s press to the south will take little of your resources from the duties of securing the main prize, the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear,” Aydrian remarked. “He will use part of the mercenary armies that brought us to Ursal, and not the professional armies of the kingdom.” He looked back to Olin. “You go there offering friendship and support above all else.”
“And it will be an honest offer,” Abbot Olin replied.
“Indeed,” said Aydrian, “as long as they ultimately agree to the rule of King Aydrian Boudabras.”
Olin’s face darkened for just a moment, but then he grinned, and replied, “Of course.”
HE HUGGED HER AND HE held on for a long, long time. For Bishop Braumin Herde there was usually no more welcome sight than Jilseponie Wyndon, his dear and trusted friend, the woman who had led him through the fires of Bestesbulzibar and the hellish swirl of the rosy plague.
This day, though, the sight of Jilseponie tore at the man’s heart more than it elevated him. In all his years beside her, even during the plague, Braumin had only once seen Jilseponie this downtrodden, and that after the death of her beloved Elbryan. And aside from his fear for his wounded friend, the mere fact that she was here, and not sitting as queen of Honce-the-Bear, set off alarms in his head that many of the rumors creeping up the river might well be true.
“We have word of the death of King Danube,” remarked Brother Marlboro Viscenti, standing across the room from the hugging pair. “Truly I am sorry.”
Jilseponie, her face streaked with tears once again, moved back from Braumin. “It was Aydrian,” she tried to explain, though their looks told her plainly that these two had no idea of who Aydrian truly might be.
“Aydrian Boudabras,” said Braumin. “Yes, the proclamation has come up the Masur Delaval that this young man is now king of Honce-the-Bear, though what that means for us all we do not yet know. I have never heard him mentioned in the royal line.”
“There are other rumors,” Viscenti started to add, but Braumin waved his hand to silence the man.
Jilseponie, though, steadied herself and looked back at the thin and always nervous Viscenti. “Rumors of a change in St. Honce, one that shall spread throughout your church,” she said.
Viscenti nodded slowly.
“Our new king was aided in his ascent by your own Abbot Olin,” Jilseponie confirmed. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “And by Marcalo De’Unnero.”
“Curse the name!” Bishop Braumin cried, and Master Viscenti stood there trembling, wincing repeatedly with his nervous tic.
“How has this happened?” asked Braumin, and he moved away from Jilseponie, stalking across the room. “How did this come about without warning? A young man, unheard of, suddenly proclaimed king? There is no sense in this! What claim might Aydrian Boudabras hold to the throne of Honce-the-Bear?”
“He is my son,” Jilseponie said quietly, though if she had shouted it, if she had brought in a thousand people to shout it, it would not have struck Bishop Braumin and Master Viscenti any more profoundly.
“Your son?” Viscenti echoed incredulously.
“He is but a child?” Abbot Braumin asked. “You bore King Danube a babe? Why did we not—”
“He is a young man,” Jilseponie corrected. “The son of Jilseponie and Elbryan.”
Both monks stood dumbfounded, Viscenti shaking his head and Braumin just staring at Jilseponie, trying to find some reason in this unbelievable turn.
“How is that possible?” the bishop of Palmaris finally managed to ask.
“The child I thought lost on the field outside of this very city was not lost,” Jilseponie explained. “He was taken away and raised in secret by…” She paused and shook her head.
“And now corrupted by De’Unnero and Olin, to the doom of us all,” reasoned Viscenti.
“So it may prove,” Bishop Braumin answered, when it was apparent that Jilseponie would not. “And Duke Kalas and the armies have thrown in with this phony king? It seems impossible! What of Prince Midalis? Surely he will not stand idly by while this pretender to the throne dismantles his brother’s kingdom, and the Abellican Church, as well!”
“Prince Midalis may go against him, but he will not win,” Jilseponie said, her voice becoming little more than a whisper.
“Many will rally to him!” Viscenti declared, and he shook his fist in the air. “The throne of Honce-the-Bear is not one simply to be stolen, nor is the Abellican Church a willing victim of such treachery! Abbot Olin will be thrown out in disgrace! And Marcalo De’Unnero—we should have burned that fool at the stake years ago. I can hardly believe that he is even still alive! Like the demon dactyl, he is! Unending evil!”
“Surely Aydrian’s claim to the throne is tenuous, at best,” Bishop Braumin reasoned, all the while patting the master’s hands to try to calm the volatile Viscenti, who had not been well of late and had been warned by the healers to try to remain calm—something that was surely against the man’s instincts!
“His claim is enough so that the general populace will accept him,” said Jilseponie. “It is enough so that the nobles who were not in Danube’s favor at the end have the excuse to embrace him. Aydrian came to Ursal with an army at the ready, and once the throne was taken, he only added to that army with Danube’s own soldiers.” She looked at Bishop Braumin with sincere sympathy, and slowly shook her head. “He has Ursal, and will sweep through Palmaris, long before Prince Midalis can organize and offer any aid to you, should you choose to oppose Aydrian. Of that much I am sure. And allies will not be easily found, especially here in the southwestern reaches of Honce-the-Bear, so dominated by Ursal and the corrupt dukes. The common folk will welcome Aydrian because to do otherwise would mean doing battle against him, and that, they have not the power to do.”
“The Church will not succumb to the threats of a usurper and his treacherous cronies!” Bishop Braumin declared. “Palmaris will offer resistance to this King Aydrian, and St. Precious will never open her doors to him, or for Marcalo De’Unnero and the traitor, Abbot Olin.”
“You would pit your city against the legions of Ursal?” Jilseponie quietly asked, and her words stole more than a little of Braumin’s bluster. Palmaris was no minor city, and its garrison was strong and deep and well seasoned. But they would be no match for the Allheart Knights and the thousands of soldiers of Ursal.
“For the city, I… I do not know,” Braumin admitted, but the helpless shake of his head didn’t last for long and the fires quickly returned to his dark eyes. “But on my life, I vow that neither Aydrian nor the cursed De’Unnero will enter this abbey, unless they are dragged through the gates in chains!”
“Do not make such a vow!” Jilseponie scolded. “You do not understand the power that will come against you!”
“You would have me welcome them?”
“I would beg you to flee!” said Jilseponie. “To St.-Mere-Abelle, and from there to Vanguard, if that is necessary. If you stay…” Her voice failed her then, and she began to pant, trying to catch her breath. She would have fallen to the ground had not Braumin rushed forward and caught her in his grasp, holding her tightly once more.
AYDRIAN WAVED THEM ALL AWAY and continued to stand at the map table as the noblemen filed out, talking amongst themselves. De’Unnero grabbed that open door and stepped beside it, as if he meant to close it behind the others while he remained in the room.
“Go to St. Honce with Abbot Olin,” Aydrian said to him. “Help him to prepare the formal documents declaring the change in the Abellican Church.”
“And what is that change to be?” De’Unnero asked, and he looked back to the hall to make sure that Olin was far away by then. “Are we to proclaim Olin as Father Abbot?”
“For now, our friend Olin will serve as the official Abellican emissary to Behren,” Aydrian replied. “That is all we need to tell your brothers. Soon, Olin will be named Father Abbot of the Abellican Church in Behren.”
Not surprised, De’Unnero nonetheless chuckled. “You make it sound so easy.”
“That part will be easier than placing Marcalo De’Unnero as Father Abbot of the Abellican Church in Honce-the-Bear,” came Aydrian’s response, one that had De’Unnero’s dark eyes glowing. “While most of the country south of the Gulf of Corona will fall to me without bloodshed, we both understand that your Abellican brothers will not so easily accept you as their leader.”
“They are not my brothers, so killing them will bring me little pause,” De’Unnero replied.
“Then go and begin the process of your ascent,” Aydrian told him. “Invite all who would come to join you in the march of King Aydrian, as the kingdom is solidified, as the church is renewed. Do not overtly threaten any who refuse, but—”
De’Unnero stopped him with an upraised hand. “I understand how I must proceed, now that it is clear that Abbot Olin and I are to walk diverging roads.”
“The more you convince with promises, the easier it will be to destroy those who refuse,” Aydrian said.
De’Unnero smiled wryly and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Aydrian turned back to the table, to the large map of the world. He ran his hand from Ursal to Palmaris, then from Entel across the Mantis Arm, following the coast all the way to St.-Mere-Abelle, the most coveted prize of all, and the one he knew would prove the most difficult to attain.
“You see?” he asked.
Across the way, a drapery moved, and Sadye walked out into the open.
“Tell me,” Aydrian asked her, “what did you perceive of Duke Monmouth of Yorkey?”
“He fears you,” the woman replied, walking to stand beside Aydrian at the table. “And he hates you. Though neither emotion is as strong in him as in Duke Kalas.”
“And yet the fear within Kalas is so profound that it dooms him as my ally,” Aydrian remarked. “What of Bretherford?”
Sadye looked up at him, her gaze lingering on his young and strong and undeniably handsome features for a long while. “I do not know.”
“The southland must be secured before I do battle with Prince Midalis,” Aydrian explained to her. “That will be a process more of measuring the loyalty of the noblemen who service each region than of conquering the commoners.”
“King Danube was loved by the common folk, as was your mother.”
“The common folk care not at all who is their king,” Aydrian told her, and he looked away from the map, locking stares with her, and smiled. “If they are eating well, they love their king. If they are starving, they despise him. It is not so difficult a thing to understand.”
“And you will feed them well,” Sadye said.
Aydrian looked back at the map, running his hand from those areas already shaded red to those areas, all the rest of the world, he intended to overtake. “I will win with kindness and I will win with cruelty,” he said calmly, matter-of-factly.
The fact that they were standing almost directly above the dungeon staircase, beneath which rotted the body of Torrence Pemblebury, only strengthened that statement.
“Long live King Aydrian,” Sadye said quietly, and she gently touched his arm.
Aydrian didn’t look at her, knowing that his indifference at that moment only strengthened his growing hold over her, only heightened her growing hunger for him.
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO do?”
The question was simple and straightforward enough, but it echoed confusingly around the thoughts of Bishop Braumin Herde.
What are you going to do?
About the abbey? About the city? He was the appointed bishop, which meant that both were under his guidance. He knew in his heart that he could not welcome any change to the Abellican Church that included Marcalo De’Unnero. The man was a murderer. The man had brought nothing but chaos and misery with him whenever he had come through Palmaris. He had once been bishop here, and had executed one merchant horribly and publicly. As henchman to Father Abbot Markwart, he had imprisoned Elbryan and Jilseponie, Viscenti and Braumin, among others.
Braumin understood that he now had to keep these two tumultuous, shattering events in Ursal separate. On the secular level, Aydrian was now king of Honce-the-Bear, and whether that was a legitimate claim or not, the fact that he apparently had the armies of Ursal to back him up made it a claim that none could oppose without dire risk. On the spiritual level, the mere thought that Abbot Olin was in league with De’Unnero discredited the man wholly within the Abellican Church, the Church that had been moving steadily toward the vision of dear Avelyn Desbris, De’Unnero’s avowed enemy.
Slowly, Bishop Braumin turned to face the questioner, Brother Viscenti, his dear friend who had been through so much beside him, all the way back across the decades to their mutual discovery of the truth of Avelyn under the tutelage of dead Master Jojonah in the catacombs of St.-Mere-Abelle.
“St. Precious will not open her doors for them,” the bishop declared. “Never that. Let De’Unnero and his newfound henchmen knock those doors down, if they will. Have them burn me at the stake, if they will. But I’ll not surrender my principles to that man. I’ll not encourage his misguided view of the world.”
“Almost every brother here will stand firm with you,” Viscenti replied.
Braumin Herde wasn’t sure if that was welcome support or not, because he understood clearly what that might mean to his beloved companions. He almost said something to deny Viscenti’s words, but he bit the retort back, reminding himself that he, as a younger man, had been more than ready to die for his beliefs. He had stood beside Elbryan and Avelyn when that surely put him in line for the gallows. Could he ask those beneath him now to surrender their own principles and beliefs for the sake of their corporeal bodies?
“St. Precious will lock them out and keep them out!” Viscenti boldly declared.
“And if they overrun us, then our deaths will not be futile,” Braumin assured him. “The Abellican Church must make a principled stand against De’Unnero, whatever the cost, because to do otherwise would be to abandon everything we hold dear.”
“But what of the city?” Viscenti asked. “Can we demand as much from the common man? Should we bar the gate and man the walls and allow the folk of Palmaris to be slaughtered by this new king?”
That was the rub. How Braumin Herde wished at that moment that King Danube had never appointed him bishop of Palmaris!
“I think you should deny him entrance, or at least, deny his army entrance,” the surprising Viscenti remarked. “If this man who claims to be king wishes to parley, then allow him that, but in such a meeting, make it perfectly clear that Marcalo De’Unnero, curse his name, is not welcome here. Perhaps we can drive a wedge between them. Perhaps we can persuade Aydrian to speak more openly with his mother.”
“You ask me to take quite a risk,” said Braumin. “And if King Aydrian refuses to parley? If he demands the opening of the gate? Do we face war with Ursal, brother?”
Brother Viscenti leaned back and pondered the possibilities for a long while. “I would expect that the people of Palmaris, given the truth of their choices, would fight Aydrian to a man and a woman,” he replied. “These are the folk who witnessed the Miracle of Avelyn. These are the Behrenese welcomed as part of Palmaris when no one else would have them—forget not, for they certainly have not forgotten, that De’Unnero and his Brothers Repentant persecuted them most horribly in the days of the plague! These are the folk who saw the folly of Markwart and De’Unnero, who saw the beauty of Elbryan and Jilseponie, and of Bishop Braumin Herde. If you would so readily die for your principles, my friend, should not they be given the same opportunity?”
Bishop Braumin chuckled at the strange irony of that implication, that it was his duty to allow his flock to be slaughtered.
He strode across the room and hugged his dear friend, patting him hard on the back. Yes, Braumin Herde was quite grateful to Brother Viscenti at that moment, for the man had indeed helped him sort through the swirl that was in his mind.
“Jilseponie has gone to Roger,” Viscenti remarked. “Watch the fire of Roger Lockless when he learns of the events in Ursal. He will rally Palmaris, if you will not!”
Braumin pushed Viscenti back to arm’s length. “Or both of us, or the three of us, will rally all the region as never before!” he said with a determined smile.
Just beneath that determined smile, that shared pat on the back, though, lay the realization that the coming darkness might be the greatest threat ever to face the city of Palmaris. For always before, when the hordes of the demon dactyl threatened or the foul stench of Father Abbot Markwart pervaded the air, Palmaris had had an ally in the greater city of Ursal.
This time, though…
At a time when many long-held workplace structures and beliefs are changing, Career Forward is a beacon for women aspiring to achieve success and satisfaction in rewarding careers. Drawing on decades of experience reaching the top of Fortune 500 companies, Grace Puma and Christiana Smith Shi show women how to maximize their career journeys, get paid what they’re worth, navigate the shifts that occur in any company, build a leadership identity, and have a full life in and out of work.
The authors challenge negative stereotypes about female ambition, and urge women to be bold, follow their dreams, and seize the chance to lead “big” lives. The secret is to focus on career first, job second. Instead of chasing a better job title or a salary bump, the goal should be a long-range career path that leads to success. “Career forward” means keeping a focus on the future and recognizing that being good at your job is often not enough—that you should take every opportunity to boost your connections, take on “difficult” assignments, and work actively to broaden your skills.
Packed with personal anecdotes and wisdom from women who’ve been there, and featuring quizzes and checklists for self-evaluation, Career Forward provides a wealth of valuable lessons, including the value of thinking of yourself as a “growth stock” and, instead of chasing the elusive work-life balance, living a well-rounded 360-degree life that fully embraces both. Offering a refreshing response to anyone who wonders whether working hard is really worth it, Puma and Smith Shi’s emphatic answer is “yes,” because by correctly following the blueprint in Career Forward, the rewards will far outweigh the effort.]]>
Christiana Smith Shiis the former president of Nike’s consumer-direct division, where she led the company’s global retail and e-commerce business. Before that she was a senior partner at McKinsey & Co. Currently the head of Lovejoy Advisors, which is focused on digitally transforming consumer and retail businesses, Smith Shi is a graduate of Stanford University and has an MBA from Harvard Business School, where she graduated as a Baker Scholar. She lives in Portland, Oregon.]]>
“A compass for those navigating their professional journeys.”
—Forbes
“Will inspire you to focus on the future, take every opportunity to boost connections, and work actively to broaden your skills.”
—Inc
“Helps empower women to take ownership of their career journeys, position themselves strategically for advancement, and invest in their well-being to maximize professional and personal fulfillment.”
—McKinsey Author Talks
“Breaks down how to drive your career forward.”
—Fast Company]]>
—Phil Knight, founder of Nike, Inc. and New York Times bestselling author of Shoe Dog]]>
—Carol Tomé, CEO of UPS]]>
—Brian Cornell, CEO of Target]]>
—Carrie Cox, Chairman of the Board, Organon; ranked by Fortune for six years as “One of the Most Powerful Women in Business”]]>
—Helene Gayle, President of Spelman College]]>
—Publishers Weekly
“Women workers will no doubt appreciate the authors’ advice and take heart in a vision of career success that helps balance out the lean-in mentality that has—quite unintentionally—led to high rates of burnout among high-performing women over the last decade. A thoughtfully upbeat and humane business book.”
—Kirkus Reviews]]>
—Mindy Grossman, former CEO of both WW International and HSN]]>
—Carolyn Dewar, New York Times bestselling coauthor of CEO Excellence]]>
—Lydia Fenet, author of The Most Powerful Woman in the Room Is You
“WithCareer Forward, you’ll be able to level the playing field and chart a clear path forward… The presentation is always captivating.”
—Jennifer Aaker, Professor, Stanford Graduate School of Business, and coauthor ofHumor,Seriously
Not many White House Press Secretaries capture the nation’s interest the way Jen Psaki did. Refreshingly candid and clear, Psaki quickly became known for her ability to break through the noise and successfully deliver her message. In her highly anticipated book, Psaki shares her journey to the Briefing Room and beyond, taking readers along the campaign trail, to the State Department, and inside the White House under two Presidents. With her signature wit, Psaki writes about reporting to bosses from the hot-tempered Rahm Emanuel to the coolly intellectual Barack Obama to the surprisingly tenderhearted John Kerry. She also talks about her time working closely with President Joe Biden from the start of his administration to set a new tone for the country, restoring a sense of calm and respect for the role of the media in our Democracy.
Since leaving the White House, Psaki’s star has continued to rise. She launched a highly rated show on MSNBC and was so successful that in just six months she was given an additional primetime Monday slot, ahead of Rachel Maddow. And Psaki’s work doesn’t end at the office. She is the mother of two young children and shares her stories about the journey of communicating as a parent: During one bedtime briefing, her young daughter asked the question, “Why do wars start?”, which Jen carefully explained and then got a follow up: “Have you ever seen a unicorn?”
In Say More, Psaki explains her straightforward approach to communication, walking readers through difficult conversations as well as moments where humor saves the day—whether it is with preschoolers, partners, or presidents. She addresses the best ways to give and receive feedback, how to connect with your audience, how to listen actively, and much more. Say More is the book Psaki wishes she had when she started her career, and is a trove of entertaining, essential lessons from one of the most prominent voices in American politics today.]]>
"Psaki combines the personal and the professional in her enjoyable debut . . .Sprinkled throughout are self-deprecating jabs that highlight her own occasional blunders . . .Such levity helps the book breeze by. Readers need not be political obsessives to appreciate the practical wisdom on offer here."—Publishers Weekly
"Throughout the book, Psaki mines her most sensitive moments for lessons on communication to impart to her readers… The narrative shines brightest when Psaki approaches her personal and professional past with circ*mspection, infusing her words with humor and vulnerability." —Kirkus]]>
“SayMoreis the book I wish I had when I was first thinking about a career in politics. Jen Psaki made one of the hardest jobs in the White House look easy—not just because she’s brilliant, tough, and tireless, but because she has an innate ability to connect with almost anyone by listening, empathizing, and treating people as equals. If you want to know what it takes to succeed in politics or in life, this book is for you.”—Jon Favreau, host of "Pod Save America"
"You don't have to love politics to love this book.Butwithcandor and humor, Jenshowsthe reader what it's actually like to be in front of the politicalspotlight, including how tonavigate different kinds of bosses and how to deliver a powerful message." —Chelsea Handler,#1New York Timesbestsellingauthor ofLife Will be the Death of Me
“I’ve seen Jen Psaki in action during some of the most intense crises we faced . . . and also some of the most outrageous. InSay More, Psaki takes readers behind the scenes of campaigns, inside the White House and State Department, tells us the backstories and gives us the tools to learn how to communicate seamlessly and honestly, all with her trademark humility and humor.”—AlyssaMastromonaco, bestselling author ofWho Thought This Was a Good Idea?and former Deputy Chief of Staff to President Barack Obama
"Jen Psakiis remarkable in this book, helping us communicate and get value back in all of our relationships. Say Moreisnot just about her career highs—though there have been many. She is a generous storyteller in sharing not just her successes, but her mistakes along the way. All of it helps the reader feel better equipped to SAY MORE!" —Mika Brzezinski, co-host of "Morning Joe"]]>
A long time ago, Logan Maletis and Rosemary Hale used to be friends. They spent their childhood summers running through the woods, rebelling against their conservative small town, and dreaming of escaping. But then an incident the summer before high school turned them into bitter rivals. After graduation, they went ten years without speaking.
Now in their thirties, Logan and Rosemary find they aren’t quite living the lives of adventure they imagined for themselves. Still in their small town and working as teachers at their alma mater, they’re both stuck in old patterns. Uptight Rosemary chooses security and stability over all else, working constantly, and her most stable relationship is with her label maker. Chaotic and impulsive Logan has a long list of misguided ex-lovers and an apathetic shrug she uses to protect herself from anything real. And as hard as they try to avoid each other—and their complicated past—they keep crashing into each other. Including with their cars.
But when their beloved former English teacher and lifelong mentor tells them he has only a few months to live, they’re forced together once and for all to fulfill his last wish: a cross-country road trip. Stuffed into the gayest van west of the Mississippi, the three embark on a life-changing summer trip—from Washington state to the Grand Canyon, from the Gulf Coast to coastal Maine—that will chart a new future and perhaps lead them back to one another.]]>
LOGAN
As she stands in the middle of an Applebee’s being dumped by a woman she didn’t realize she was dating, Logan Maletis has a realization: this is all Death’s fault.
The way that hunchbacked skeleton holding a sickle and crunching its way over carnage had stared up at her from the tarot card with accusation in its eyes…
She should’ve known better than to let a sixteen-year-old with a septum piercing read her future.
But it was the last week of school, and most of her sophom*ores were done with their end-of-year projects and were now signing yearbooks or staring blankly at TikTok. After working a sixty-hour week, grading 150 final essays, and dragging at least a dozen seniors, kicking and screaming, across the finish line so they could graduate on time, Logan was too exhausted to consider why it might be a bad idea.
And Ariella Soto was so proud of her hand-painted tarot cards, so eager to show her English teacher her newfound skills of divination, and Logan couldn’t say no to that kind of earnestness.
So, Logan sat in a too-small desk across from her student and put her fate in those intensely manicured hands.
“Tarot doesn’t predict your future, Maletis,” Ariella had explained in her best woo-woo voice. “It’s best used as a tool for introspection and self-reflection.”
That seemed so much worse.
“Ask the cards a question.”
She’d overheard Ariella reading her classmates’ fortunes, sophom*ores who asked questions like, Where should I apply for college? and What should I do with my life? Those same students had gathered around to watch Maletis’s reading, and she couldn’t exactly ask a real question, like Will I ever move out of my dad’s house? or What should I do with my life? Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into the theatrics. That’s her role at Vista Summit High School. She’s the fun teacher. The cool teacher. The teacher who doesn’t take anything too seriously. “Am I going to have an awesome summer?”
Ariella tutted disapprovingly and the rest of the class snickered. “You’re supposed to ask an open-ended question, like you make us do in seminar.”
Logan made a show of considering thoughtfully. “What awesome things should I do this summer?”
More adolescent laughter.
Ariella rolled her eyes at the rephrased question but flipped the first card anyway, and there was that skeletal bastard smirking up at Logan over a bloodred background. The death card. Logan’s first thought was Joe, and she tensed uncomfortably in the tiny desk.
“It doesn’t mean literal death, Maletis. Don’t look so freaked,” Ariella reassured her. “It’s a metaphorical death, usually. An ending.”
Again, she thought of Joe, but she kept her smile broad for her students. “Like… the end of a school year…?”
“Or perhaps the end of an important phase in your life,” Ariella said in the same mystical tone. “The end of your adolescence, perhaps?”
“I’m thirty-two.”
Her students laughed, but Ariella stared at her as though her heavy eyeliner allowed her to see directly into Logan’s soul.
Ariella continued, “Or, it’s possible it’s referring to the end of a relationship….”
At this, Logan relaxed a little. The boys made low oooo noises, and Waverly Hsu singsonged, “Maletis has a girlfriend,” over and over again.
“Maletis and Schaffer sitting in a tree,” Darius Lincoln added. “K-i-s-s-i-n-g.”
That was what she loved about working with sixteen-year-olds; at turns, they watched both Euphoria and SpongeBob, tried to snort aspirin in the back of your classroom, and sang ridiculous nursery rhymes like innocent children at recess. They were goofy and weird, which meant she could be goofy and weird, too.
“Something in your life will come to an end, Maletis,” Ariella decreed, bringing the room back under her spell, and filling Logan with unexpected dread, “prompting a period of newfound self-awareness.”
Didn’t predict the future, her ass.
Because here she is, three days later and two hours into summer vacation, facing the end of a relationship she didn’t know existed, while she tries to enjoy her Tipsy Leprechaun. And it’s definitely Death’s fault.
“This just isn’t working,” the tiny white woman holding a Captain Bahama Mama tells her.
“This… meaning… us?”
“I’m sorry to do it like this,” Schaffer shouts over the sound of two dozen teachers celebrating their freedom with watered-down co*cktails and half-priced apps.
“But it seems best to have a clean break before summer,” Schaffer continues at a loud volume, alerting the gossipy counseling department that something dramatic is happening within earshot. Several of her colleagues turn to watch the scene unfold.
Teaching high school is often an exercise in humiliation, but this is a bit much, even for her.
It isn’t the dumping itself she takes issue with. She’s been dumped many times. In fact, she’s been dumped in this exact Applebee’s at least twice.
No, she takes issue with the fact that they’re surrounded by their hetero coworkers on all sides. The social studies teachers-slash-football coaches who were distracted by a Mariners’ game playing on the flat-screens are now attuned to this conversation. Sanderson and her crew of mean girls with their Pinterest-perfect classrooms are now ignoring their shared nachos to leer at the scene. Even her principal is doing a bad job feigning disinterest as he goes to town on a chicken wing.
Not that she really cares what her coworkers think of her. Most of them made up their minds about her when she started this job eight years ago.
Hell, at least half of them made up their minds about her when she started at Vista Summit High School as a ninth grader eighteen years ago.
But as the only openly queer teachers in their conservative small town, it would be nice if people weren’t staring at them like they’re a couple on The Ultimatum.
“Doesn’t a clean break seem best?” Hannah Schaffer asks in response to Logan’s blank stare. At least, Logan is pretty sure her first name is Hannah.
Like, 90 percent certain.
It’s definitely Hannah, and not Anna or Heather or Hayley.
Probably.
It’s not Logan’s fault she’s fuzzy on the first name of her current casual-workplace-acquaintance-with-benefits. Most teachers at Vista Summit go exclusively by their last names as a byproduct of working at a school run by dude bros who once played Vista sports and then became teacher-coaches so they could revel in those glory days forever. At work, she’s never Logan. She’s Maletis. And the tiny blond with the pink drink is only ever referred to as Schaffer. Except in Logan’s phone, where her contact still reads “New Science Teacher” followed by a winky face emoji.
And you can’t get dumped by a woman whose contact is still a generic descriptor. Logan has dozens of ambiguous contacts in her phone—Cute Coffee Shop Girl and Emily Hinge and Hot Butch from Tinder—and none of those fleeting hookups ended with a breakup. They ended the respectable way: with a mutual fizzling out and absolutely no need for a serious conversation.
She doesn’t really do serious.
But Probably-Hannah Definitely-Schaffer seems hell-bent on having a serious conversation in this Applebee’s. “It can’t come as a surprise that I’m ending things.”
“It really can,” she grumbles into her drink. And is Sanderson… holding up her phone? Is she recording this atrocity? Logan fights to keep her stance casual and her face impassive. You can’t be hurt over the end of a relationship you didn’t know you were in.
“I mean, we can’t keep pretending we don’t have problems,” Schaffer continues. “Things haven’t been good between us for a while now.”
A while now? Logan scans her romantic history with this science teacher and tries to find any evidence that might justify the use of a while. From that first drunken makeout after a staff happy hour, Logan had made it clear they were keeping it casual. Late night U up? texts and never sleeping over. It wasn’t exactly the stuff that Nora Ephron films were made of. And it started… what? A month ago? Two months, tops.
So, yeah, Logan is surprised. And confused. And quite frankly, a little nauseous from this green drink.
“Look, you’re a fun time,” Probably-Hannah says. “But I think we should end things before either of us gets hurt.”
As if she would ever let herself care enough to get hurt. “You’re probably right,” she agrees in an attempt to expedite this postmortem on a fake relationship and get back to celebrating the start of summer. “Thanks for the talk. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to—”
Her evasive maneuvering is swiftly ignored. “I just think we’re in different places in our lives. You still live with your dad and you’re in your thirties.”
She says thirties like it’s a terminal diagnosis. Logan should’ve known better than to hook up with a zillenial who thought Mary-Kate and Ashley were three people. Like most of the young teachers at Vista Summit High School, Schaffer lives in Portland, a forty-minute drive across the river. And she’s very self-righteous about it. “It’s tragic the way your quality of life starts to decline at the ripe old age of thirty-two,” Logan snarks.
“You’re literally always complaining about your back, and you get sick every time you eat cheese,” she points out.
Fair point, Schaffer.
Hannah looks her up and down with an expression of barely concealed revulsion, and Logan wonders if Sanderson captured that on her phone, too. “What’s your plan, Logan?”
She considers this in the same way she considered what question to ask the tarot cards. “Well, I was probably going to order some mozzarella sticks, maybe switch to beer—”
“What is your plan for your life?” Schaffer interrupts. “Are you going to live with your dad in this disgusting town forever?”
She feels that question wedge itself deep into her chest. The end of your adolescence, perhaps?
“Vista Summit isn’t disgusting,” Logan says reflexively. Sure, the historically red voting trends in Vista Summit are abominable.
And the lack of openly queer people is less than ideal for a single lesbian.
And there’s the smell. From the paper mill up the river. So, in the literal sense, Vista Summit is technically disgusting, at least in odor.
And okay fine. Their current mayor is a former rodeo clown and current flat-earther who ran on a platform of bringing Chick-fil-A to town (a promise he still hasn’t made good on after seven years in office). And yes, she’s known most of these people her whole life, and they’re all a bunch of busybodies who’ve kept receipts on every mistake she’s made since she was in OshKosh B’gosh.
But… the town is right along the gorgeous Columbia River, and on clear days there is a staggering view of Mount Hood and the Gorge. There are ungoverned trees and open spaces, boundless green and hiking trails in every direction, so many ways to escape into nature where there are no walls and no rules and no one to judge her. Of course, she’d dreamed of escaping for real as a kid—of fleeing this suffocating small town for a life of adventure, a list of places she wanted to see written on notebook paper, carried around in her childhood best friend’s pocket.
But childhood dreams, like childhood best friends, aren’t meant to last. So, she stayed. And she’s fine staying.
“I’m not sure my life plans are any of your business,” she snaps at Schaffer. “Like, we were just hanging out, and if you’re done hanging out, that’s cool, but I don’t think we need to make it a whole thing.”
“Just hanging out?” Probably-Hannah repeats slowly. “For four months, we’ve just been hanging out?”
Logan’s indifference falters for a minute. Four months?
No. It hasn’t been that long.
Has it?
“Four months?” she repeats. Had she really let it go on for that long? She usually knows better than that. Leave before you get left, because everyone leaves eventually. Logan isn’t the kind of woman people stick around for.
“Yes, four months. Did you forget to take your meds again this morning or something?”
And against all odds, Schaffer does manage to hurt her. Logan blinks back any signs of real emotion and juts out her jaw. “Look, I made it clear that this was casual from the beginning,” she says, “and it’s not my fault if you fell tit-over-cl*t in love with me.”
Probably-Hannah screws her fists to her hips and glares up at her. “Tell me something, Maletis. What’s my name?”
The entire Applebee’s has gone suspiciously quiet, and she gets the impression even the servers are watching this public flogging unfold. Sanderson is still holding up her phone. “Schaffer,” Logan answers with unearned confidence.
“My first name.”
Kristen f*cking Stewart. Logan’s eyes dart around Applebee’s searching for a hint or an escape hatch or a deus ex f*cking machina, but everyone in this room seems firmly poised against her, mocking her the same way the Death card had. She swallows. “It’s… Hannah.”
Hopefully-Hannah stares at her in stunned silence. And then she throws her Captain Bahama Mama directly into Logan’s face.
Logan closes her eyes and feels the pink sugar drink splash across her face, up into her hair. It drips down onto her favorite button-up shirt, the one with pineapples on it.
“I should’ve listened when everyone told me not to waste my time on an apathetic asshole who doesn’t care about anyone or anything,” Definitely-Not-Hannah seethes.
And Logan pretends that doesn’t hurt at all.
Not for the first time in her life, Logan flees the Vista Summit Applebee’s in disgrace.
It’s starting to rain as she storms through the parking lot, but it hardly matters since she already has Malibu and Captain Morgan all over her. Her bra is filled with sticky liquid that drips down her torso with each step.
She throws herself into her rust-orange Volkswagen Passat and searches for something to clean herself off with. But her car only contains empty Red Bull cans and Starbucks breakfast sandwich wrappers and paperbacks with dog-eared pages. She’s not shoving Roxane Gay down her shirt.
An apathetic asshole who doesn’t care about anyone or anything.
She wonders how long it will take for the entire town to hear the story of her Applebee’s humiliation. Perhaps Sanderson will upload the video to the town website to make it easier. Logan finds a single dirty hiking sock under the passenger seat and wedges that between her boobs to soak up the drink.
Something hot and frantic and terrifyingly tear-like builds up in her chest. There is no use crying over spilled garbage alcohol, and there is definitely no use crying over Not-Hannah.
It takes one… two… three tries for the car to start, and she fumbles for the tangled cord of her tape deck aux and plugs in her phone, pressing shuffle on her Summer Jams playlist. “Our Last Summer” from the Mamma Mia soundtrack starts playing at an unholy decibel.
I can still recall, our last summer…
She begins to back out of her parking spot as Colin Firth’s tragic bleating is cut off by the robotic voice of a Siri notification. “New message from JoJo DelGoGo rainbow emoji,” the default male Siri voice informs her, changing tone slightly as it reads the text from Joe: “Happy last day of school,” the message begins. “I don’t want to spoil this most sacred of days, but it would seem I’ve had a bit of a fall. I’ve tried to reassure my nurses that I’m fine, but they’ve insisted on bringing me back to Evergreen Pines because I might have, perhaps, broken my foot? You know how I feel about this godforsaken place. Could you please come by this evening?”
A bit of a fall.
Back to Evergreen Pines.
Broken my foot.
Joe.
Her hands clench around the steering wheel. Smirking skeletons and carnage and a blood-red background. She wishes she could be more apathetic about this, but her entire body feels like it has turned to stone. She’s thinking about Joe and the Death card and endings, and not about the fact that she’s still backing out of her parking spot when there’s a screech of metal on metal as she whips toward the steering wheel. She slams on the brakes, but it’s too late.
She hit something.
Specifically, she hit another car.
More specifically—she looks in her rearview mirror—she hit a gray Toyota Corolla.
sh*t on a f*cking biscuit. Logan watches in horror as the driver of the Toyota flies out of the car like a bat out of Ann Taylor Loft. In the name of Shay Mitchell’s Instagram, no. Not her. Anyone but her.
Three-inch heels and black nylons, a gray pencil skirt and a cardigan with polka dots buttoned all the way up to her throat, all of it drenched in the brown liquid of an iced latte.
Who the hell teaches in three-inch heels?
Rosemary Hale, that’s who.
Of all the people she could’ve rear-ended, it had to be Hale. No one in this town keeps receipts better than her.
In the rearview mirror, Hale touches her pale pink fingernails to the wet splotch on her stomach like a soldier in a movie groping at a fatal bullet hole. Hale hasn’t updated her hairstyle since the sixth grade, so her pale blond hair is scraped back in its usual severe French braid, which swings like a pendulum as she shakes her head in horror. Her pasty-white skin has gone a splotchy red and purple. “You hit my car!” Hale shrieks.
And Ruby f*cking Rose. She had. She’d been publicly ridiculed and dumped, Joe was injured, and she’d rear-ended the sh*t out of her childhood best friend turned nemesis’s car.
Colin Firth still warbles from the speakers. Our last summer.
Logan glances at Hale in the rearview mirror again, and for a moment, she sees a flash of the young girl she once cared about more than anything. That earnest, imaginative, brave girl. Then Hale stamps her foot, and all Logan sees is the woman that girl became and the destruction she herself has created.
This is probably Death’s fault, too.
—Booklist (starred review)]]>
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)]]>
—Hannah Grace, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Icebreaker]]>
—Rosie Danan, USA Today bestselling author of Do You Worst]]>
—Ashley Herring Blake, author of Delilah Green Doesn't Care]]>
—Alicia Thompson, USA Today bestselling author ofWith Love, from Cold World]]>
In the West, marrying is so thoroughly identified with ceremonial promises that “taking vows” is a synonym for getting married. So, it’s a surprise to realize that this custom is actually a historical and anthropological oddity. Most of the world, for most of history, married without making promises. And there’s a reason for that. Marriage by vow presupposes free choice, and free choice makes a love-match possible. It is a very modern arrangement.
Vows is both a moving memoir of two marriages and a thoughtful meditation on marriage itself. Cheryl Mendelson tackles the sociology of commitment through our most traditional promises and shows why they endure. In considering the kind of marriage these vows entail, she helps answer some of life’s most urgent and personal of questions: Could I, would I, or should I make these promises to someone? Using history and literature, the book describes the parameters of the behavior that traditional vows promise and, in doing so, answers a whole series of other questions: Why did wedding-by-vow arise only in the West? Why are they recited in weddings around the world today? Why have these vows lasted for nearly a thousand years? Why does the kind of marriage promised in the vows survive?]]>
—Publishers Weekly]]>
—Thomas Mallon, author ofHenry and ClaraandFellow Travelers]]>
—Alexander McCall Smith, bestselling author of No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series]]>
The Venatura Hotel desperately needs a facelift. Too bad renovations are murder on a marriage.
While recovering from a professional setback, documentary filmmaker Jane Duvall stays at a remote hotel during the off season with her new contractor husband, Dom, and his daughter, Sienna. Surrounded by an immense forest and the mighty Fraser River, Jane wants nothing more than to bond with her new family. But she’s unsettled by the cold, quiet presence of the hotel’s owner, Peter, who is overseeing Dom’s renovations. When she starts asking questions, Dom grows distant and Sienna becomes belligerent. Undeterred, Jane uncovers secrets that make her question exactly who she married, including a series of strange disappearances at the hotel in previous seasons. When a rainstorm of epic proportions threatens to flood the banks of the river and claim the Venatura Hotel, Jane must solve these mysteries if she’s to survive the off season.]]>
—SHARI LAPENA, #1 bestselling author of Everyone Here Is Lying]]>
— ROBYN HARDING, #1 bestselling author of The Drowning Woman]]>
— DANIEL KALLA, internationally bestselling author of High Society]]>
— SUZY KRAUSE, author of Sorry I Missed You]]>
— S.M. FREEDMAN, author ofBlood Atonement]]>
—SAMANTHA M. BAILEY, USA TODAY and #1 bestselling author of A Friend in the Dark]]>
—A.J. DEVLIN, award-winning author of Five Moves of Doom]]>
—The Globe and Mail]]>
From saving lives to saving harvests...
From discovering ancient diamonds to identifying the first exo-planet...
From driverless cars to quantum computers...
From Nobel laureates to your next-door neighbor...
This book offers uplifting stories of innovative Canadians.
Canadians Who Innovate includes two Nobel laureates, an astronaut, extraordinary business leaders, the godfathers of artificial intelligence, and top quantum experts, including the inventor of what may be the next quantum computer. It features profiles of the first director of engineering at Google, who is now working on nuclear fusion; a medical researcher who communicates on TikTok about the efficacy and potential for RNA vaccine technology; and a PhD in nuclear physics who has twice won the Scotiabank Giller Prize. Meet the linguist who works with Indigenous people to make online dictionaries, an internationally consulted specialist on migration, an agri-tech investor, a world specialist on permafrost, and the expert in systems and number theory who has a way to fix health care. And don’t forget the engineer who grew human cells on apples, a feat that is leading to the creation of replacement organs that do not require donors—not to be confused with the aerospace technology developer who created a tethering system to clean up space debris and a 3-D printer that prints biological tissue.
Featuring brilliant thinkers from coast to coast to coast, and others from around the world who now call Canada home, Canadians Who Innovate paints a promising picture of a cleaner, healthier, more innovative future for us all.]]>
— THE HONOURABLE ELIZABETH DOWDESWELL, former lieutenant governor of Ontario]]>
— THE HONOURABLE MARC GARNEAU, former minister of foreign affairs and astronaut]]>
— MIKE DeGAGNÉ, president and CEO of Indspire]]>
— NIK NANOS, chief data scientist and founder of Nanos Research]]>
— SUZANNE FORTIER, former principal of McGill University and former president of NSERC]]>
Traditionally, when we get sick, health care professionals ask, “What’s the matter with you?” But around the world, teams of doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers have started to flip the script, asking “What matters to you?” Instead of solely pharmaceutical prescriptions, they offer ‘social prescriptions’—referrals to community activities and resources, like photography classes, gardening groups, and volunteering gigs.
The results speak for themselves. Science shows that social prescribing is effective for treating symptoms of the modern world’s most common ailments—depression, ADHD, addiction, trauma, anxiety, chronic pain, dementia, diabetes, and loneliness. As health care’s de facto cycle of “diagnose-treat-repeat” reaches a breaking point, social prescribing has also proven to reduce patient wait times, lower hospitalization rates, save money, and reverse health worker burnout. And as a general sense of unwellness plagues more of us, social prescriptions can help us feel healthier than we’ve felt in years.
As Hotz tours the globe to investigate the spread of social prescribing to over thirty countries, she meets people personifying its revolutionary potential: an aspiring novelist whose art workshop helps her cope with trauma symptoms and rediscover her joy; a policy researcher whose swimming course helps her taper off antidepressants and feel excited to wake up in the morning; an army vet whose phone conversations help him form his only true friendship; and dozens more. The success stories she finds bring a long-known theory to life: if we can change our environment, we can change our health. By reconnecting to what matters to us, we can all start to feel better.]]>
—Dr. Andrew Weil,New York Timesbestselling author and founder of the Center for Integrative Medicine at the University of Arizona
“Based on extensive research, this book offerspractical solutions for those seeking to find healthin a world riddled with preventable illness.”
—Dr. Robert Waldinger, coauthor ofThe Good Lifeand professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School
“What if we treated people based on their passions and potential rather than their symptoms and deficits?Throughcutting-edge science and captivating stories,this book shows that when we’re seen as whole people, we can truly thrive.”
—Dr. Scott Barry Kaufman, author ofTranscend,and host of The Psychology Podcast
"Ina critical exploration of a branch of medicine long and dangerously ignored,The Connection Curereminds us that medicine is, and has always been, so much more than just a pill.
—Dr. Rachel Zoffness, author ofThe Pain Management Workbookand UCSF Assistant Clinical Professor
"Aprovocative, profound, and pleasurable readon surprising remedies for modern malaise. With the ideal blend of journalistic skepticism and humanistic optimism, Julia Hotz makes a compelling case that our well-being depends even more on our connections than we realize.”
—Adam Grant, author of#1New York TimesbestsellerThink Againand host of the podcast Re:Thinking
“Julia Hotz shows us, in case after case, theamazing healing power of human connection,and that the journey to better health need not be traveled alone."
—Bill Gifford, coauthor of #1New York Timesbestseller,Outlive
"InThe Connection Cure,Julia Hotz takes readers ona fascinating exploration,effortlessly weaving together history, science and intimate portraits of different social prescriptions, with greatflair. This book providesablueprint for rethinking health care."
—Robert Whitaker,PulitzerPrize finalist and author ofAnatomy of an Epidemic
“Abrave, fascinating, and persuasiveread—and will soon become the definitive book on social prescribing.Full of integrity, humor, and great storytelling,this book will change lives, and possibly the world.”
—Dr. Michael Dixon, OBE, author ofTime to HealandNHSNationalLeadfor Social Prescription]]>
Mark Chan this. Mark Chan that.
Writer and barista Emily Hung is tired of hearing about the great Mark Chan, the son of her parents’ friends. You’d think he single-handedly stopped climate change and ended child poverty from the way her mother raves about him. But in reality, he’s just a boring, sweater-vest-wearing engineer, and when they’re forced together at Emily’s sister’s wedding, it’s obvious he thinks he’s too good for her.
But now that Emily is her family’s last single daughter, her mother is fixated on getting her married and she has her sights on Mark. There’s only one solution, clearly: convince Mark to be in a fake relationship with her long enough to put an end to her mom’s meddling. He reluctantly agrees.
Unfortunately, lying isn’t enough. Family friends keep popping up at their supposed dates—including a bubble tea shop and cake-decorating class—so they’ll have to spend more time together to make their relationship look real. With each fake date, though, Emily realizes that Mark’s not quite what she assumed and maybe that argyle sweater isn’t so ugly after all…]]>
1
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in her thirties—especially one with four married sisters—must be in want of a wedding of her own, even if she claims otherwise. And her family should do everything in their power to secure a match for her.”
—My mother, probably
How old are you, Auntie Emily?” my little niece Scarlett demands.
I take a healthy swallow of my drink and crouch down in my bridesmaid dress to get closer to her. co*cktail hour is in full swing, and it’s a bit loud in this small room at the banquet hall. “I’m thirty-three.”
“Thirty-three? That’s so old!” She sounds positively horrified. I guess being over thirty is incomprehensible to her. “You’re not married, are you?”
“No.”
“You should get married so I can be a flower girl at your wedding.”
My littlest sister, Hannah, got married today, and Scarlett was a flower girl, a role she enjoyed very much.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” I say.
I totally expected to get hassled about my marital status at Hannah’s wedding, seeing as I’m now the last single Hung sister; I just didn’t expect it to come from a five-year-old.
Not only am I the last single one in the family, but I’m also the second oldest, which makes it even worse in everyone’s eyes. I have three younger sisters who have now tied the knot. I’m way behind.
It’s fine with me. It really is. Not because I’m against marriage, but because I have different priorities in my life. Dreams that are finally coming to fruition.
It is not, however, fine with my mother.
Mom and Allison—Scarlett’s mother and my older sister—head toward us, glasses of wine in hand.
“Mommy,” Scarlett says, “Auntie Emily is thirty-three!”
Allison chuckles. “And do you know what? I’m thirty-five.”
Scarlett’s mouth falls open.
Allison seems amused by this whole interaction. My big sister is often annoyed with me for one reason or another, but not today.
Mom is less amused. She takes my arm and leads me away, probably to meet some eligible bachelor.
“Can’t you just enjoy the reception, rather than attempting more matchmaking?” I ask.
Mom clucks her tongue. “What would be the fun in that?”
Inwardly, I groan.
“A wedding is the perfect place to meet men,” she says, steering us with ease through the crowds of people at the reception. “Ah, I see Mark Chan.”
I stop walking. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” Mom asks innocently.
“Invite Mark Chan to the wedding. It’s not like he even knows Hannah.”
“Why shouldn’t I have invited Mark?” Mom asks. “His parents are friends of ours and he’s an engineer who—”
“What does his profession have to do with why he should be at Hannah’s wedding?”
It’s a foolish question, of course. I know exactly what she’s doing: she’s extoling the virtues of the great Mark Chan because she wants me to date him and marry him and have his babies. He’s here only so she can introduce the two of us.
My mother’s matchmaking tendencies have hit a critical level since Hannah got engaged a year and a half ago. She’s tried to throw me at many men, but Mark—oh, Mark is her favorite. Though she met his parents only a few years ago, they now play mahjong together on a regular basis. I think she’s seen Mark once or twice, but from those brief encounters, she’s somehow decided he’s perfect for me.
I, on the other hand, am convinced that Mark is not perfect for me.
First of all, there’s my previous experience with Mom’s matchmaking. A few years ago, when I turned thirty and had no prospects for marriage, as she put it, she tried to set me up with a man named Alvin. Let me tell you, that’s an experience I do not want to repeat. So, I’m more than a little suspicious of her judgment in this area.
Second, whenever Mom talks about Mark, her voice is full of excitement, but the words she says are another matter.
This is what I know about Mark Chan: he’s a thirty-two-year-old computer engineer. (He’s so smart, Emily, and he makes plenty of money!) He owns a condo. (Once you get pregnant, he can sell it and you can buy a house together!) He won an award for getting the highest mark in first-year calculus in university. (And you were always so good at calculus too!) He likes reading. (Isn’t that so perfect for you?) He went to an all-boys private school. He won a big chess tournament when he was twelve.
Okay, fine. None of those things is completely terrible, but I’m sick of hearing about him, and I can’t say he intrigues me at all.
And seeing him for the first time doesn’t change my opinion.
Mom points to a man standing at the edge of the crowd, drink in one hand. With his other hand, he’s reaching for a canapé. He looks utterly ordinary.
I suppose this is what I expected, even if my mother acts like he single-handedly stopped the polar ice caps from melting or ended child poverty in Canada. I…
OMG! Food!
It’s been a very long day, and I haven’t had enough to eat. By midnight—after the ten-course banquet and wedding cake—I’m sure I will have consumed eight thousand calories, give or take. But the banquet hasn’t started yet, and I’m more than a little hungry. I saw a waiter walking by with canapés ten minutes ago, but by the time I hurried over, my uncle had claimed the last one.
Fortunately, this platter is full. I scurry over, grab two shrimp something-or-others and a napkin, murmur my thanks to the server, and begin stuffing food into my mouth.
“Hi. Emily, is it?” Mark says.
Ugh, I hate when people talk to me when my mouth is full of food. I feel pressured to chew as fast as possible.
“Yes,” I say as soon as I swallow.
“You two seem to be getting along so well,” Mom says. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Before I can comment on the ridiculousness of her statement—I’ve said a grand total of one word to Mark—she disappears into the crowd, and I hear her accepting congratulations that yet another of her daughters is married. Mom had nothing to do with this match, though; Hannah met her now husband when she was away at university.
As I finish eating my food, I examine Mark Chan. He’s about five ten, and he has short black hair. Now that I see him up close, I concede he’s better-looking than I initially thought, much to my annoyance. Not that I, personally, find him attractive, but I can see why someone would, even if his smile is rather bland.
“Hi,” I say, since I haven’t actually said that yet.
I shove the next canapé in my mouth, and in my rush to placate my growling stomach, I swallow it before I’ve finished chewing. A too-large piece of food scrapes my esophagus. (Is that the right word? I’m not the medical professional in my family.)
My eyes water.
“You okay?” Mark asks.
“Yep,” I croak.
God, I can’t believe I’m being such an idiot in front of Mark f*cking Chan. Not because I have any interest in dating someone my mother thinks is suitable, but just the principle of it. When you meet a new person, you don’t want to make a terrible impression, you know?
I gulp half my co*cktail to wash down the food, but that proves to be a mistake. The drink is strong, and it makes me cough all the more. Tears blurring my vision, I manage to grab a glass of water from a server, and by some miracle, I don’t choke and require Mark to perform the Heimlich maneuver. If he saved me, I would definitely have to go out with him, and Mom would never stop talking about how he rescued me, a fate in which I have exactly zero interest.
I look around the room, at all the people in their suits and dresses, here to celebrate my baby sister, then turn my attention back to Mark.
“So, uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I hear you wrote a novel?”
Yes, I did. It’s called All Those Little Secrets, and you can buy it at Indigo. It’s my greatest accomplishment.
And I hate talking about it.
Not because I’m excessively humble, but for some reason, I find it weird to discuss, especially with people I don’t know, especially sweater-vest-wearing men my mother wants me to date.
Okay, fine, he’s not actually wearing a sweater-vest—he’s decked out in a dark suit, appropriate for a wedding—but I imagine he’d wear one on a regular Saturday.
“What’s it about?” he asks.
In theory, I know the answer to that question. I mean, I wrote the damn book. But in this moment, a succinct-yet-compelling answer escapes my mind.
“It’s women’s fiction. About secrets in immigrant families and… stuff.”
Yep, I’m a writer. I’m great with words.
“Interesting,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to…”
Oh God. He’s going to tell me he’s always wanted to write a novel but never found the time, and would I like to hear his brilliant idea? Then he might generously offer to split the royalties if I write the book, i.e., do all the hard work.
“Look,” I say, “many people have told me—”
“Read more. I’ve always wanted to have time to read more fiction.”
Oh.
“What did you think I was going to say?” he asks.
I shrug, and we stand there awkwardly in silence.
Of course, it isn’t actually silent in this room. We’re surrounded by crowds of people imbibing alcohol, and there’s music in the background. But despite the noise, it’s still uncomfortable that Mark and I aren’t saying anything to each other.
See, Mom? Mark Chan and I have no chemistry.
I scramble to think of another topic, figuring I should make a few more minutes of polite conversation. Mom is probably watching us, and if I don’t spend enough time talking to Mark, she’ll come over and drag me back.
But Mark beats me to it. “I hear you like calculus?”
I don’t like it, but I vaguely remember being good at it once upon a time. I’ve forgotten most of what I learned, though.
And why are we talking about calculus at a wedding?
“I haven’t had to do calculus in years, thankfully,” I say. “It’s one of those things you learn in school, but who actually uses it in their work?”
“Well,” he says, “one example—”
“It was a rhetorical question, Mark.”
Of course I know some people use calculus at their jobs. Calculus teachers, for example. Just not baristas-slash-novelists. Though I do tutor a few hours a week, and I suppose it would be useful if I wanted to tutor more advanced math students, but I just do grades nine and ten now.
“I believe my parents said you have a degree in mathematics?” he says.
Did he really have to bring that up? It sounds like he’s judging me for not putting my degree to good use, for no longer being a woman in STEM.
When I graduated, I worked for a software company for five years, and I’m certainly not getting into that whole story with him.
“Yes,” I say shortly, in a tone suggesting the conversation should end here.
“What made you want to be a novelist instead?”
Ugh, what’s with all the questions and that judgmental look on his face?
When I don’t immediately provide an answer, he moves on to a more benign topic.
“It was a lovely ceremony,” he says.
“Yes, it was.”
Another awkward gap in the conversation.
I wonder if I’ve spent enough time with Mark to satisfy my mother, then shake my head at that foolish thought. Mom is never satisfied with me, and she won’t be even a little satisfied with this situation until Mark has put a ring on my finger, which isn’t happening.
I glance around the room to see if she’s watching, but to my surprise, she’s not—she’s in conversation with Auntie Janie, who’s probably relaying some juicy gossip.
Excellent. Time to make my escape.
“It was great to meet you,” I lie, “after hearing so much about you.” I try not to sound too sarcastic, even though this man has managed to hit on the worst conversational topics and is the opposite of my type.
“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” he says.
Huh. I wonder whether his parents have made me sound amazing or merely desperate. I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I figure there’s at least a 63.2 percent chance of it being the latter.
I give him a nod and a smile. “I see someone over there that I’ve got to, um, talk to. Later!”
Ugh, that sounded weird. Oh well.
As soon as I take a step back, he pulls out his phone. I bet he was eager for me to leave.
Turning away from Mark, I scan the room. My cousin is standing by a server holding more canapés. Perfect. I head in her direction, but before I can get there, Uncle Wayne and Auntie Sharon—old friends of my parents’—appear in front of me.
Oh no. I know exactly where this conversation is heading.
“Emily!” Uncle Wayne says. “So great to see Hannah married. Are you next?”
“Uh…”
“You didn’t bring a date today, did you?” He makes a show of looking around.
“Nope, it’s just me,” I say with a smile, followed by a gulp of my drink.
“Been on any dates lately? You know, time only moves in one direction. You’re not going to get younger.” He chuckles as though he’s said something funny. “There are so many ways to meet people that didn’t exist in my day. Apps, is that what they’re called?”
The thing about Uncle Wayne is that he can carry on a conversation by himself with minimal response from anyone else.
Auntie Sharon puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t rub it in,” she says quietly to her husband. “It’s probably tough for her.” She shoots me a sympathetic look.
That’s even worse than Wayne’s questions. I don’t need pity just because I’m a single woman in my thirties whose sisters are all married. I’ve got a decent life, and it’s better to be single than have a crappy husband. It’s the twenty-first century; it’s not like I need a man to take care of me.
“Did you talk to that guy your mother wanted you to meet?” Uncle Wayne asks. “Mark Chan, I think?”
“I did.” I try not to sound frustrated that I’m hearing about the great Mark Chan yet again. I’ve now met the man; he doesn’t live up to his reputation.
After a few more minutes of conversation, I manage to escape. I head toward my father, who’s eating a canapé. I grab some food for myself, and this time, I don’t swallow wrong and choke, which I consider an improvement.
Seriously, I feel like I need to go back to toddler day care and learn how to eat properly.
“You doing okay?” he asks. “You look a little…” He gestures with his wineglass.
“I’m happy for Hannah.” That isn’t a lie. “And I’m hungry. I thought those pictures would never end.” It was like they had to take photos with every combination of people in the family.
“Me too.”
I’ve always been able to relax more around my father than around my mother. He doesn’t comment on my single status or drag me off to meet eligible bachelors. Dealing with my mom just requires so much energy.
“Auntie Emily! Auntie Emily!” Scarlett runs over to me.
“What’s up?” I crouch down to talk to her, hoping for some conversation about the food, rather than about my age.
“I found you a husband.”
Oh God. My niece has already started matchmaking? She’s only in kindergarten! Couldn’t she at least wait until, I don’t know, high school?
“Yeah?” I say. “Who?”
“That man over there.”
It takes me a moment to figure out who she’s pointing at. It’s a man with gray hair who, if I remember correctly, is Hannah’s father-in-law’s older brother.
“Uh, he’s too old for me.”
Scarlett frowns. “But you’re old, Auntie Emily. You’re thirty-three.”
And the man in question is, oh, I don’t know, maybe sixty-three.
“I’ll consider it,” I say, hoping to put an end to this train of thought, and then we can talk about picture books or PAW Patrol or… something like that.
“Can you burp the alphabet?” she asks me earnestly. “This boy in my class, he can burp the alphabet.”
Well, I suppose that’s one way to change the conversation.
Scarlett scurries toward her father, and I head over to check the seating chart, seeing as we’ll be heading to the dining area any minute now.
Oh, you’ve got to be f*cking kidding me.
Almost all of us are missing essential vitamins and minerals from our diets that leave us feeling unwell and unable to achieve our health goals—even those of us who take our daily multi, buy organic produce, or have tried to kick-start our health with different dietary habits. Now, bestselling author Dr. Sarah Ballantyne throws all of that out the window in favor of a simple yet radical idea: choose foods to meet our nutritional needs. Unlock health and vitality with Nutrivore, a transformative guide that navigates the world of nutrition, dispels diet myths, and empowers you to embrace a nutrient-focused lifestyle tailored to your unique needs.
Nutrivore is a paradigm shifting, comprehensive approach to nutrition that includes:
-An easy-to-follow plan for getting the full spectrum of nutrients we all need to reach our health goals, focusing on twelve foundational food families.
-Definitive science that identifies foods rich in the nutrients that treat common symptoms and ailments.
-Comprehensive lists of foods and pain points that you can use to craft your own unique eating plan, such as eating magnesium-rich leafy greens to help with headaches, potassium-packed sweet potatoes to help lower blood pressure, or molasses loaded with calcium to relieve PMS.
With no food off-limits, Nutrivore is a permissive dietary structure, emphasizing nutrient-rich selections compatible with your preferred diet or anti-diet, that can reduce your risk of future health problems and help alleviate the symptoms you’re currently facing—so you can finally start feeling good every day.]]>
—Dr. Terry Wahls, author ofThe Wahls Protocol: A Radical New Way to Treat All Chronic Autoimmune Conditions Using Paleo Principles]]>
Raised in a secluded island mansion deep in the woods and kept isolated by her true crime-obsessed parents, twenty-six-year-old Dahlia Lighthouse is still haunted by her twin brother Andy’s disappearance a decade ago.
After several years away and following her father’s death, Dahlia returns home, where the family makes a gruesome discovery: buried in their father’s plot is another body—Andy’s, his skull split open with an ax.
Dahlia is quick to blame Andy’s murder on the serial killer who terrorized the island for decades, while the rest of her family reacts to the revelation in unsettling ways. Her brother, Charlie, pours his energy into creating a family memorial museum, highlighting their research into the lives of famous murder victims; her sister, Tate, forges ahead with her popular dioramas portraying crime scenes; and their mother affects a cheerfully domestic facade, becoming unrecognizable as the woman who performed murder reenactments for her children. As Dahlia grapples with her own grief and horror, she realizes that her eccentric family, and the mansion itself, may hold the answers to what happened to her twin in this “gorgeously wrought and deliciously creepy…twisted delight” (Kathleen Barber, author of Follow Me).]]>
My parents named me Dahlia, after the Black Dahlia—that actress whose body was cleaved in half, left in grass as sharp as scalpels, a permanent smile sliced onto her face—and when I first learned her story at four years old, I assumed a knife would one day carve me up. My namesake was part of me, my future doomed by her violent death. That meant my oldest brother, Charlie, who had escaped the Lindbergh baby’s fate by living past age two, would still be abducted someday. My sister, Tate, would follow in her own namesake’s footsteps, become a movie star, then become a body in a pool of blood. And my twin brother, Andy, named for Lizzie Borden’s father—I was sure his head was destined for the ax.
It didn’t take me long to shed that belief, to understand that our names were just one of the many ways we honored victims of murder. But even after I stopped expecting us all to be killed, Andy insisted our family was “unnatural,” that the way we were raised wasn’t right.
I still don’t know where he got that idea; back then, the life we lived in our drafty, secluded mansion was the only kind of life we knew.
Now, I’m standing in front of it, the home he ran away from on our sixteenth birthday—two years before we were scheduled to get our inheritance (“Leaving Money,” as Charlie called it), and three before I left myself, having waited there, certain my twin would return, for as long as I could. I used to sit at the bottom of the stairs, gaze pinned to the door, hoping he’d walk through it again, tell me all my missing him was for nothing.
I was the only one who missed him. Mom read his note—The only way out is to never come back—and swallowed hard. “Your brother’s chosen his own path,” she said, swiping at her tears as if that was the end of it. Dad stomped around the house for a while, grumbling about the hunting trip Andy had skipped out on. “He’s a coward, that twin of yours,” Dad told me, as if Andy belonged to me alone. And then there was Charlie and Tate, who were visiting when we found the note. They’d come all this way for our sixteenth birthday, but they left without helping me look for him, Charlie claiming he had an audition, Tate trailing after him like always. Which left just me, alone in my anguish for years after that, lighting the candles with Mom and Dad, saying the Honoring prayer that I’ve since learned they created themselves.
Dad died the other day. That’s why I’ve come back. And I’m hoping this will be the thing that brings Andy back, too. Maybe he’s already inside, listening for my footsteps. Maybe I can stop my internet searches. Every week, I look for my brother on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. Greta, who runs the café beneath my tiny apartment, has taught me all the tricks on social media, but still, my searches come back each time with nothing.
Today, I took the long way up from the ferry, watching the rocky shore recede below me as I climbed higher toward the center of Blackburn Island, where our house looms stony and colorless in front of the woods. For minutes now, I’ve been staring at those skeletal trees, remembering how Andy used to whack at them, how he’d pick up his ax whenever something flared inside him—and how almost anything could set him off: Dad quizzing him about hunting rifles; Mom teaching us about Ted Bundy’s victims; Tate sketching her namesake, Sharon. For all the hours Andy and I spent locked to each other’s hips—hiding in the credenza to jump out at Mom; distracting our groundskeeper with leaf pile forts—I never understood why he’d spring out of the house sometimes and pick up the ax that leaned against the shed. And when he told me, over and over, that our family was unnatural, that we needed the outside world, needed to trust people beyond each other, I didn’t understand that, either.
The November wind is icy on the back of my neck, pushing me closer to the front door. Dead leaves skitter around my feet as if welcoming me home.
It’s been seven years since I last stepped foot on this porch, even though when I left at nineteen I didn’t go far. My apartment on the mainland is a quarter mile from the ferry, easy access should Andy ever return, but when I first moved there, Greta acted like I was from a distant, mythical place. I can’t believe you grew up on Blackburn Island, she said. I’m obsessed with the Blackburn Killer. I have every article that’s ever mentioned him, and I spend hours a day on message boards, discussing all the theories. Oh my god, did you know any of the victims?
I could recite their names in my sleep. Not just the victims of our island’s serial killer, who murdered seven women over two decades and was never caught, but the ones from quiet neighborhoods, the ones on city streets. We honored them each year on the anniversaries of their deaths. We uttered their names as we stood in a circle, lighting each other’s slim white candles. Then we whispered the prayer—we can’t restore your life, but we strive to restore your memory with this breath—before blowing out the flames. When I told Greta I didn’t know the victims personally, but that they were part of our Honoring calendar, her forehead wrinkled with confusion, and I wondered for the first time if Andy had been right, that there was something unnatural about us.
But is he here now, sitting on the stairs, watching the door from inside as I force myself to turn its knob and finally push it open?
I blink until my eyes adjust. The light outside was dazzling and real, but in here it’s dimmer than dusk. The foyer, I see now, is vacant and cavernous; the staircase holds nobody up. The chandelier sways a little, as if something has nudged it, and I have to focus on breathing until the pang of being wrong subsides.
“Look who finally showed up. Tate and I have been here since yesterday.”
I turn toward Charlie’s voice. Through the wide archway to the right, I see him sitting in the living room, in curtained, lampless dark. I can just make out the glass of amber liquid in his hand. He sips it now, barely ten a.m., before he stands and approaches, burgundy-sweatered and lanky as ever.
“What, you’re not a hugger?” he asks with a wink.
He embraces me before I can answer. When he lets go, he takes my bag off my shoulder and slings it over his own, the weight of it tipping him farther than his typical sideways slouch.
“You look good, Dolls,” he says. “What’s it been—nine years?”
I blink at him like he’s another dark room I have to get used to. How can he not know it’s been ten years, four months, and three days since we last saw each other? It’s easy to remember. You just take the time it’s been since we last saw Andy and subtract one day. I suppose, though, that Charlie’s tried to see me before now. He’s sent me texts over the years, inviting me to his shows—the off-Broadway ones and the really off-Broadway ones—but I’ve never gone. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach it, watching him pretend to be somebody else. To me, he’ll always be the man who read Andy’s note—The only way out is to never come back—and returned right away to New York. Greta likes to remind me that Charlie was twenty-six at the time, someone with a life already separate from us, but what she doesn’t get is that when I talk about Charlie, or Tate, or my parents, I’m not looking for perspective; I’m looking for her to agree that all of them failed my twin.
Now, I tell Charlie exactly how long it’s been, and he eyes me strangely before sipping his drink again.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask.
“Tate’s playing dutiful daughter to the grieving widow upstairs. And Dad—well, he’s in the morgue still, waiting for his Honoring tomorrow.”
I skip past the image of our father, cold in a drawer somewhere. “Is that really what we’re calling it?” I ask. “An Honoring?”
Charlie’s mouth tilts in amusem*nt. “What else would we call it?”
I shrug. “Dad wasn’t murdered. It doesn’t seem like the Honoring rules would apply.”
“Well.” He leans in conspiratorially, bourbon on his breath. “The way I hear it, Dad’s heart was a real bastard about it. Took him out in two seconds flat. Pushed him facedown in his venison stew.” He demonstrates by pitching his head toward the mouth of his glass. “Mom had to wipe the meat off his cheeks before the paramedics came. It’s poetic, really. Dad hunted so many deer in his lifetime, and in the end, he died on top of one. Seems almost… intentional, doesn’t it? Like his heart knew what he’d been up to and murdered him for it.”
He’s smirking. And his words are wobbly. Tate’s warned me about this, through her frequent emails I rarely return. She’s said that Charlie’s a disturbing drunk.
“That’s quite a welcome,” I tell him. “Thanks.”
He shrugs like it’s no problem. Like it isn’t appalling, describing our father’s death that way. But I don’t feel it like the kick in the gut I know I should. I didn’t feel much of anything when I learned of Dad’s heart attack. Just sort of an: Oh. Okay. I was at the café, looking for traces of Andy in Detroit (I’ve been working my way through all the major cities again), and Greta overheard me on the phone. She brought me hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and said she was so, so sorry, god, that’s awful, Dahlia. But actually, the news of Dad’s death was, to me, just news. An inevitable update on the time line of my life.
I get why Charlie’s acting out, why he’s smirky and buzzed. It’s a front, I’m sure, for the pain roiling inside him. Charlie actually knew Dad, in ways that I—and I suspect Tate—never did. Dad paid attention to Charlie the same way he paid attention to Andy. All those shooting lessons over the years, those whispered conversations while scoping the woods for the flick of a tail. I don’t know what to do with girls, Dad confessed once, when I asked why it was only boys who got to go on hunting trips. It’s not that I wanted to hunt; I just hated the idea of Andy experiencing something without me. But hearing Dad admit that was a relief. I didn’t know what to do with him, either, this man with few words and fewer smiles; with no involvement in our education, not even to watch the murder documentaries Mom showed us; with nothing more than nods of acknowledgment whenever he passed me, as if I were an employee like our groundskeeper, Fritz. I got permission, then, to love Dad less. To not even worry about loving him at all. Which was fine with me. It left more space for Andy.
“Come on,” Charlie says. He sets his glass on the credenza, gestures with his chin toward the staircase. “Mom’s been waiting for you.”
As I follow him up, I glance behind me, still always checking for Andy.
“Don’t be rude, Dahlia, say hi to Grandma and Grandpa,” Charlie says, throwing me another smirk over his shoulder. And that’s fine, if he needs to make this all a joke, but the photos of Mom’s parents that line the staircase wall are anything but funny. I know the faces in those frames aren’t ghosts—ghosts don’t have weddings, don’t smoke cigarettes, don’t kiss with smiling lips—but they started this, didn’t they? Our haunted childhoods. Our haunted lives. And maybe this is what Andy meant when he said our family was unnatural. Because Mom crowded our walls with her murdered parents.
It is unusual, our origin story: Mom moved here at twenty-one, to her family’s summer house, immediately after home invaders killed her parents at their Connecticut estate; she married Daniel Lighthouse, an orphan himself, who—for someone who didn’t know what to do with girls—captivated Mom right away; and Dad indulged her eccentricities, encouraged them even, and did not protest as she turned the mansion into something like a mausoleum.
Before we reach the top of the stairs, I hear footsteps on the landing, and then a gasp. It’s Tate, pushing Charlie to the side, rushing to meet me.
“Dahlia!” she says. “What the hell? You’re all grown-up!”
She laughs like I’m playing a joke on her, like I’ll unzip my skin and emerge as the girl I was the last time she saw me. Then she pulls me into a hug so fierce I almost lose my footing.
“Careful, Tate,” Charlie says. “Let’s not kill our sister, shall we? Mom hardly has any room left in her shrine.” He smiles at our grandparents on the wall, as if they’re in on the joke.
It’s weird, though—these hugs they’ve both given me, as if we Lighthouse children were a happy foursome of siblings, not divided into pairs by the difference in our ages, by the fact that Andy and I could read each other’s minds, and that Tate just worshiped Charlie. She ignores him now, stepping back to examine me again, and she’s as striking as ever, wavy blond hair piled on top of her head, wayward curls framing her face. She’s wearing a turquoise sweater over a pair of magenta jeans, and she’s the first bright thing I’ve seen since entering this house. That’s part of her “brand” now, brightness. When she photographs herself with her dioramas on Instagram, she’s always in pink or aqua or yellow. It’s contradictory to her depictions of the Blackburn Killer’s crime scenes—the dark rocky shores, the obsidian water, those dead women, who, even in their miniature ice-blue dresses, look like shadows flung upon the rocks—but it works somehow.
I wonder if Andy is one of Tate’s fifty-seven thousand followers. I wonder if he ever scrolls through the feed of @die_orama, feeling exposed by our sister’s art.
The New York Post profiled her last year, and Greta taped those pages to the café wall, insisting I was related to “true-crime royalty.” When I read the article, I held my breath, unsure how much Tate had shared with the Post about our way of life. Greta’s the only one I’ve told about the possibly “unnatural” things from our childhood, details she’s both devoured and savored: the library in the back hall, which we dubbed “the victim room,” its bookshelves crowded with newspapers reporting on murders; Mom’s homeschooling curriculum that required us to write our own “murder reports,” in which we presented our theories of unsolved cases in neat five-paragraph essays. (This detail is Greta’s favorite; You were just like me, she says, a citizen detective! At first, I thought she invented that term, until she told me about the network of people online who lose hours each day investigating cases.)
The article didn’t mention murder reports, but Tate explained that she felt a kinship with the Blackburn Killer’s victims, given that he’d been active on the island while she lived there. More than that, she believed that by re-creating the bodies, right down to the rope marks on the women’s necks, the B branded on their ankles, she was returning the focus to the seven people whose lives were cut short, instead of the intrigue of “whatever sick f*ck” did the cutting.
In her Instagram posts, Tate never writes how we grew up honoring those seven women on the anniversaries of their deaths, accumulating dates as the years went by, as the killer kept strangling, kept branding, kept dressing his victims in identical ice-blue gowns, and dumping their bodies in shallow water. But whenever I see Tate’s dioramas—those intricate, lifelike, bite-size crime scenes—I can’t help but feel like she’s sharing family secrets.
“You’re so grown-up,” Tate tells me again. She turns so she appears in profile and tilts her chin up. “And what about me? How do I look? How’s”—she pauses to give a mock grimace—“thirty-five treating me?”
“You look great,” I say. But she knows that. In the selfies she posts between dioramas, her followers shower her with praise: Girl, you’re gorgeous; I’d kill for your hair. They love her style, her dioramas, her captions about each victim—and they love Blackburn, too. The Post profile, which quoted people who’d learned of Blackburn through @die_orama, explained that Tate has essentially transformed it into a tourist destination, that the shores where all those women were found are now a draw, not a deterrent. “It’s exhilarating,” one person said, “standing on land where a real serial killer dumped his bodies.”
It’s been a decade since the Blackburn Killer last struck, but people on the island still dead bolt their doors—a precaution we never needed. It seemed that no one, not even a serial killer, wanted to slip inside our house. “Murder Mansion,” the islanders called it.
“Dahlia. You came.”
It’s Mom at the top of the stairs this time.
“Of course I came,” I say.
She’s dressed the same as always—sweats and slippers—but she’s paler than I’ve ever seen her, skin like a crumpled piece of paper someone’s tried to smooth back out.
Mom wraps me in her arms, leaning down to rest her chin on my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says on a sigh.
Charlie, above us, fidgets with the strap of my bag. “Yes, what a lovely family reunion,” he says. “Right where everyone hoped it would take place: on the stairs.”
Tate smacks his arm. Mom exhales into my neck, breath heavy with loss. As she hugs me tighter, I feel how potently she’s missing Dad. She was like a moth with him, drawn to a light I could never see. When he entered a room, her eyes flew to his face; when he recounted a recent hunting trip, she leaned forward, fluttery with anticipation. He didn’t have to say much—usually didn’t—and maybe it’s because he said so little that she hung on every word, grateful and stunned that he’d spoken to her at all.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her.
“About what?” she asks.
“Global warming?” Charlie can’t help but quip. “The wage gap? All your fault, Dolls.”
Tate smacks him again.
“About Dad,” I say.
Mom pulls back to put her hands on either side of my face. Her eyes are puffy and red, cupped by dark pouches. “Don’t be sorry about Dad, he didn’t suffer at all. It was a quick, natural death. Shocking, and horrible, but the best there is in the end.” She strokes my cheek. “Now, if you’re going to be sorry about anything…”
“Oh, Mom, not again,” Tate says.
“What?” I ask.
“She’s been guilt-tripping us,” Charlie says.
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “No guilt trip.”
“She’s mad,” he continues, “that we’ve stayed away for so long.”
“I’m not mad,” Mom insists. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”
Tate puts her arm around Mom’s shoulder. “Do I or do I not call you three times a week?” she asks. “And do I or do I not send you all the treats you can only get in Manhattan? You said you loved those chocolates from Moretti’s.”
“I did love those chocolates,” Mom agrees. “I just love you all more.”
“Aw. That’s sweet,” Charlie says, but there’s something tart in his tone. “But like we told you yesterday, which I’m sure Dahlia would agree with—” He looks at me meaningfully, urging me to mimic his nod. “We’ve had to make our way. And that requires distance. Time. I’ve been gone as long as I lived here, and I’m still adjusting to the world.”
Mom swivels to face Charlie, her jaw quivering. “I always meant,” she says, “to prepare you for that. For the outside world. That’s what everything was for.”
She extends her arm toward a photo on the wall, one where her parents laugh at some party, each with a cigarette between their fingers, and she caresses the frame slowly. It’s a haunted gesture, as if she’s trying to touch the past, trying to save her parents from their future.
“What Charlie means,” Tate says, cutting him a glance, “is just—there’s so much life out there, you know? I had no idea how much! The world is huge with it.”
Mom’s fingers drop from the frame. Her shoulders slump.
“And in a way,” Tate adds, squeezing Mom closer, “I appreciate it more, I think, because of everything you taught us. Don’t you agree, Dahlia?”
Tate’s eyes lock onto mine, and they’re so blue, so hypnotic, that I find myself nodding. But then I remember Mom’s response to Andy’s runaway note—Your brother’s chosen his own path—and I don’t know why I’m bothering to comfort her. She’s never cared before if we stayed away, and I still haven’t forgiven her for that, for giving Andy up so easily.
The fact is, we all had our reasons for never coming back. Charlie claimed he needed to stay close to the city, be ready at the drop of a hat for whatever new role might open up. And because Charlie didn’t return to Blackburn, Tate didn’t either. Codependent, Greta tsked when I told her how they’ve lived together in the same Manhattan walk-up ever since they both got their inheritance. And me, I lasted only three years in the house without Andy, done with dodging the shadows that piled up like dust bunnies in every corner. But what about him? He left without telling me why, without even saying goodbye, and I’ve had to live all these years in the not knowing, which is a lonely, comfortless place.
I know he was troubled by things I wasn’t. I know he took his ax to the trees in the woods—not to cut them down, but to wound them, scar them, to make them carry something on their bark he couldn’t hold inside him anymore. I know his emotions ran hot and hard; he was quick to anger, frustration. But what was it that made him run? I don’t believe—I’ve never believed—that our “unnatural” life was enough of a reason. I haven’t forgiven our family for letting him go, and I haven’t forgiven him, either, for going.
“I’m just glad you’re here now,” Mom says to us. “The circ*mstances are dreadful, of course, but I’m happy to have all my children back home.”
All?
Did she really just say all?
“Did you—”
But I’m cut off by a shout bursting through the back door.
“Mrs. Lighthouse! Mrs. Lighthouse!”
The urgency in Fritz’s voice prickles the hair on the back of my neck.
He limps into the foyer, quick as a man nearing eighty can. His right leg—the bad one—drags a little, and his long, milky hair is streaked with dirt.
Mom rushes down the stairs to meet him. “What is it?” she asks.
Charlie, Tate, and I clomp down as well, and when Fritz spots me, he does a double take. “You came,” he says, breathy from running, from shouting.
“Of course I came,” I say, for the second time. “What’s going on?”
“It’s… Outside, I…”
He trails off, prompting Charlie to roll his eyes. “What is it? Is everything o-kay?” And I remember this now—how Charlie used to speak to Fritz as if he were dumb.
“No. N-n-no,” Fritz stammers, his focus still on Mom. “I was in the woods out back, digging up Mr. Lighthouse’s plot, and—”
“We’re burying him here?” Charlie asks Mom.
“Of course. They’ll transport him when we’re ready.”
“But— Isn’t that a bit… ghoulish?” Charlie asks. And it’s a strange question, given our lives.
Mom’s shoulders roll back as if he’s offended her. “Not at all. That’s where my parents are buried. It’s the family plot. We put in stones for your father and me.”
“Um, guys?” Tate says. She gestures to Fritz, whose eyes are wide, seemingly all pupil.
“I don’t know what…” our groundskeeper starts. “Or-or how, but somebody’s already…”
“Already what? Spit it out!” Charlie booms, plucking his bourbon off the credenza.
Fritz swallows then, throat bobbing in his neck like all those actors in the crime scene reenactments we saw, their fear looking hard and bulbous inside them. It makes me swallow, too, makes me rub at the hair still rising on the back of my neck. But when Fritz speaks again, his voice doesn’t waver.
“Somebody’s already buried in Mr. Lighthouse’s plot. And I think—” Fritz shifts his gaze to me. “I think it’s Andy.”
—Michele Campbell, internationally bestselling author of It's Always the Husband]]>
Created by and for people of the LGBTQ+ community who want to see their experiences, bodies, and lifestyles in tarot, Tarot for You and Me offers the queer, genderqueer, and non-binary audience and their allies a tarot deck that is as inclusive and emboldened as it is fun and full of joy. The deck is designed to infuse your life with greater awareness and higher insight, allowing you to manifest visible, truth-based happiness.
Tarot for You and Me follows the tenets of the traditional tarot, but reimagines the core elements to replace gendered, heteronormative language with inclusivity and reimagine the symbols that represent modern ideals. In the deck, cards of the Major Arcana that are historically gendered or use language rooted in imperialism are reimagined for today’s audience. Here the Magician becomes the Brujx, the Hanged Man becomes the Hanged One, and more. And further, the Minor Arcana suits of wands, cups, swords, and pentacles become lanterns, chalices, flags, and plants, respectively.
Pairing an updated vision of an inclusive tarot with joyful, dynamic art, you will truly see yourself—your life, your body, your vocabulary, your experiences—reflected in the cards and the future you can create from it.]]>
When a traveling carnival leaves Fancy Jordan stranded in the rugged Washington Territory, she thinks her luck has run out. Alone and penniless, she welcomes a most intriguing offer—to live in the home of Jeff Corbin’s brother and coax the wounded, withdrawn man back to health and happiness. But a villainous attack on his ship had hurt not only his body—a far deeper sorrow tortures him, heart and soul. Can Fancy’s love breathe new life into him or are some wounds too deep to heal?]]>
Jin-Lu has the most dangerous job in the wasteland. She’s a magebike courier, one of the few who venture outside the domed cities on motorcycles powered by magic. Every day, she braves the wasteland’s dangers—deadly storms, roving marauders, and territorial beasts—to deliver her wares.
Her most valuable cargo? A prince’s love letters addressed to Yi-Nereen, a princess desperate to escape the clutches of her abusive family and soon-to-be husband. Jin, desperately in love with both her and the prince, can’t refuse Yi-Nereen’s plea for help. The two of them flee across the wastes, pursued by Yi-Nereen’s furious father, her scheming betrothed, and a bounty hunter with mysterious powers.
A storm to end all storms is brewing and dark secrets about the heritability of magic are coming to light. Jin’s heart has led her into peril before, but this time she may not find her way back.]]>
Some of the smartest commentary about what’s happening in America is coming from a comedian—this comedian being Bill Maher. If you want to understand what’s wrong with this country, it turns out that one of the best informed and most thought-provoking analysts is this very funny pothead.
The book was inspired by the “editorial” Bill delivers at the end of each episode of Real Time. These editorials are direct-to-camera sermons about culture, politics, and what’s happening in the world. To put this book together, Maher reviewed more than a decade of his editorials, rewriting, reimagining, and updating them, and adding new material to speak exactly to the moment we’re in. Free speech, cops, drugs, race, religion, the generations, cancel culture, the parties, the media, show biz, romance, health—Maher covers it all. The result is a hugely entertaining work of commentary about American culture in the tradition of Mark Twain, Will Rogers, and H. L. Mencken.]]>
“This book is so funny you may not notice how smart it is.Theonly thing that will make you want to put itdown is totake a moment totell someone else about it.”—Donna Brazile
“I love Bill Maher. He’s often brilliant, occasionally maddening but unfailingly original. He’s the unfiltered, hilarious voice we desperately need during these batsh*t-crazy times.”—Katie Couric
“Whether you agree or disagree with him—and I do both—Bill Maher had proven himself to be an illuminating force in a world that values heat over light. His is a vital voice, keeping the left honest and calling the right to account for itself before the bar of reason and of decency. I’d say ‘thank God for Bill,’ but he doesn’t believe in God. So I’ll just say thanks.”—Jon Meacham]]>
Every spring, over one million high school juniors embark on an annual rite of passage: applying to college. And with college admission rates at an all-time low, getting into a competitive school is now tougher than ever. At the top schools, a strong transcript and great test scores will get your application noticed, but it’s your essays, and the personal story that they highlight, that will get you admitted.
But often, students don’t know where to start. Teens fret over topics because they don’t know what college admissions officers are looking for. They bend over backwards to write what they think colleges want to read, instead of telling their authentic story—which is what admissions officers actually want—in a way that will resonate with their readers. They also struggle because college essays, which are narrative, first-person, and introspective require a different set of skills from academic, expository writing they’ve been learning for years in the classroom.
Seasoned college admissions expert and educator Eric Tipler has seen this firsthand. Teens and their parents spend countless, anxiety-filled hours crafting and refining essays that are often lackluster. In Write Yourself In, Tipler meets students where they are, and provides comprehensive actionable advice in a warm and conversational tone. He demonstrates how to craft a winning essay, one that is authentic, vulnerable, and demonstrative of qualities like personal growth and emotional maturity. Instead of formulas, Write Yourself In gives students step-by-step processes for brainstorming, outlining, writing, and revising essays. It encourages them to seek out feedback at key points in the process, something Tipler has found to be vital to helping students produce their best writing. Further, the book includes sidebars that teach essential components of good storytelling, a “secret weapon” in the admissions process.
In addition to the admissions essay, Write Yourself In also covers the most common supplemental essays on topics like community, diversity, openness to others’ viewpoints, and why their school is a good fit for the student scholarship essays, as well as scholarship essays. Tipler includes sections that address current topics like the widespread use of ChatGPT and the discussion of race in the admissions essay, a facet of the student’s application that will have newfound importance given the Supreme Court decision on affirmative action.
Written with both the parent and teen in mind, Write Yourself In is the go-to handbook for writing a great college essay.]]>
Called in to examine what is left of a person thought tohave been struck by lightning, Dr Temperance Brennantraces an unusual tattoo to its source and is soonembroiled in a much larger case. Young men – tourists –have been disappearing on the islands of Turks and Caicosfor years. The first victim was found with his left hand cutoff; the others vanished without a trace. Until now.
The men seem to have nothing in common, other than theunusual locations where their bodies are eventually foundand that they all seem to be unlikely victims of foul play.Do these attacks have something to do with the islands’seething culture of gang violence? Tempe isn’t so sure.And then she turns up disturbing clues that suggestwhat’s at stake may have global significance.
Every minute counts as the clock ticks downin a race for the truth. And then Tempe herselfbecomes a target.
‘One of my favourite writers’ –KARIN SLAUGHTER
‘This page-turning series never lets the reader down’ –HARLAN COBEN]]>
Australia’s war tales could be said to be the closest thing we have to sacred stories: ANZAC, Simpson and his donkey, Changi, the wronged diggers in Vietnam, Ben Roberts-Smith. Millions of dollars are spent enshrining these stories in the War Memorial in Canberra and the Australian National Memorial in France, amongst others.
But did what we’re celebrating actually happen?
In this book, award-winning author and historian Mark Dapin shows that often the reality was completely different from the myth – and that by celebrating the wrong people, we often forget about the real heroes. With deep research and a sharp wit, Lest reclaims the truth about our military history.]]>
Shortlisted for the 2023 NSW Premier'sLiterary Awardfor Non-Fiction
Longlisted for the 2023Margaret and Colin Roderick Literary Award
From the best-selling author of The Tall Man and The Arsonist, a personal tale about death, life and the enchantment of stories. With illustrations by Anna Walker.
Let me tell you a story…
When Chloe Hooper’s partner is diagnosed with a rare and aggressive illness, she has to find a way to tell their two young sons. By instinct, she turns to the bookshelf. Can the news be broken as a bedtime tale? Is there a perfect book to prepare children for loss?
Hooper embarks on a quest to find what practical lessons children’s literature—with its innocent orphans and evil adults, magic, monsters and anthropomorphic animals—can teach about grief and resilience in real life. From the Brothers Grimm to Frances Hodgson Burnett and Tolkien and Dahl—all of whom suffered childhood bereavements—she follows the breadcrumbs of the world’s favourite authors, searching for the deep wisdom in their books and lives.
Both memoir and manual, Bedtime Story is stunningly illustrated by the New York Times award-winning Anna Walker. In an age of worldwide uncertainty, here is a profound and moving exploration of the dark and light of storytelling.
Praise for Bedtime Story
'Everything you’d ever want in a bedtime story – heroes and heroines, puzzles and dangers, invisible forces, birds, trees, beasts, poetry, sadness and joy. Stories within stories. I was spellbound from the start. As for the ending... I can’t tell you that.' Paul Kelly OA
‘Chloe Hooper has a formidable talent to take complex stories and ideas and truths, and to distil them into a language of direct and powerful beauty. This is a story of grief and of patience, of hope and acceptance. It is also a reminder of the solace that books give us, and of how the imaginary worlds we dive into as children remain with is for all our lives, of how they guide us into adulthood and maturity. There is a quiet courage and strength in this book. It is both gentle and uncompromising,a love letter to family and to literature that is bracingly unsentimental. I was profoundly moved, and profoundly grateful.’ Christos Tsiolkas
‘This book is a miracle of light and meaning-making from one of our finest writers. Venturing inward with extraordinary grace, Hooper explores – and extends – the long literary line surging with our deepest inherited wisdom about how to embrace our finite lives. The result is nothing less than the hero's journey we have been collectively starving for. Telling you this is like trying to describe the sun; it is a book so powerful and beautiful – so utterly its own – that it can only be experienced directly.’ Sarah Krasnostein
‘Exquisitely beautiful. This book is an act of love.’ Anna Funder
'Deeply engrossing and honest, human, full of love and tenderness, with moments of sparkling humour in the struggle. I loved everything about Bedtime Story. I loved particularly what it taught me about authors who write for children, the ways that writing and reading provides compensation, balancing the scales between loss and love.’Sofie Laguna
‘I loved Bedtime Story by Chloe Hooper so much! A sensitive & beautifully executed exploration of the power & purposes of storytelling.'Kate Forsyth
'Chloe Hooper is a beautiful writer... Her latest book is incredibly personal, yet she still weaves an outward curiosity that drives all of her non fiction; a compulsion to figure out the why, how, and if, of life.' Zan Rowe
Charming and clever Emma Woodhouse is used to getting her way. She’s content living in her tight-knit Upper East Side neighbourhood, maintaining perfect grades at university and keeping an eye on her lonely father. And when her budding matchmaking hobby results in her sister’s marriage, she knows she’s on to something. If only George Knightley, her annoying neighbour and childhood friend, would get out of her way.
George is only too happy to point out Emma's flaws. Is she spoilt? Maybe a little. Does she insert herself into other people’s business? Only sometimes. Emma has the best of intentions, though – she just wants everyone around her to be happy, even as she focuses on completing her graduate degree and finding her own place in the world. But will anyone ever take her seriously?
As Emma’s schemes collide with nearly everyone around them, Emma and George come toe to toe. But they slowly begin to realise that there might be more to the person they’ve known their entire life ... and that, sometimes, the best matches come from the most unexpected places.]]>
The oldest of the McBride siblings, Morgan has had to look after his siblings since Ma died and Pa ran off. It hasn’t always been easy, especially when his heart longs for the solitude of the wide open road. But now that his brother Kit is married and settled, the time is right for Morgan to leave in search of adventure. Little does he know that Junebug, his hellcat of a little sister, is dead set on keeping him at home – all with one honest advertisem*nt in The Matrimonial News.
Epiphany Hopgood has always been good at doing the wrong thing. She’s too tall, too loud, too opinionated, and too contrary for polite society. Staring down the barrel of spinsterhood, she decides to answer a seemingly straightforward ad for a bride.
But when Pip shows up to meet her betrothed, she finds that Morgan McBride is not the husband she expected. In fact, he doesn’t even want to be a husband. Unwilling to return to her unsupportive family, Pip is determined to take control of her own future – with or without Morgan McBride.
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Detective Holly Sutton has been seconded to work with the New South Wales Homicide Squad to investigate the murder of Sydney socialite, Tottie Evans, who was found dead at the Palm Beach home of a millionaire property developer.
Alec Blacksmith isn’t like other real estate guys. He’s a former mercenary soldier who shot to fame after appearing on a reality TV show. Blacksmith is refusing to cooperate with police because he has his own secrets.
John Bailey is an old school reporter with a nose for a story.
He gets a call from the police about a break-in at the house he inherited from his former girlfriend, Sharon Dexter – a cop murdered in the line of duty.
Whoever crowbarred the lock was looking for Dexter’s case file about the murder of a waitress named Sally King at an exclusive Sydney gentlemen’s club a decade earlier. After examining the file, Bailey discovers something that will blow up the Homicide Squad’s investigation into Tottie Evans’s death – a link to the murder of King.
The only problem is that a serial killer is already serving a life sentence for the crime.
Catching killers is Holly Sutton’s job. But for John Bailey, solving the case offers him a chance to finish a job for the woman who saved his life.]]>
Camryn Lane is living her dream. After years of struggle and rejection, her first novel has finally been published. Her editor is happy; her teenage daughter is proud; and her boyfriend and friends are all excited for her. She’s on top of the world – until she receives a disturbing email from an unknown sender.
Rattled, Camryn swallows the sick feeling in her stomach and resolves to put the missive out of her mind. But when she checks her ratings online, she finds a scathing one-star review. The reviewer is so articulate and convincing that, soon, Camryn’s book is flooded with bad reviews. Could the reviewer be the same person who sent the ugly email? And why do they want to ruin her?
As the online harassment creeps into Camryn’s personal life, she vows to find out who’s behind it. Is it really a disgruntled reader? Or could it be someone she knows? The situation is escalating, and when the abuse turns deadly, it will take everything Camryn has to unmask the enemy so intent on destroying her – and finally learn why she's being targeted.]]>
This book is so important to me.
To have a healthy old age you must act now, whether you are 30 or 50.
I have two great passions – sharing my love of cooking delicious, simple food and improving the health andnutrition of older people. I hope this cookbook does both but it’s not for ‘old’ people, it’s for you. I have beendelighted to work with leading Alzheimer’s researcher Professor Ralph Martins in recent years and I havelearned that if we are to avoid Alzheimer’s and other lifestyle diseases it is what we eat today that matters.
These are my recipes for every day, for everybody, full of deep flavours and beautiful ingredients that willnourish you and your family. Nobody wants to eat worthy food that tastes like cardboard. For me, foodwithout flavour is unthinkable! And so is the notion of restricting whole food groups. My recipe for life isto have a healthy attitude to eating – it’s all about balance, variety and choosing foods that give you the bestchance of being in good health now and into your future. This is not a diet book – it’s a way of life.
This new edition includes recipes from my ABC TV show Maggie Beer’s Big Mission.
~Maggie Beer
Maggie Beer and Professor Ralph Martins have teamed up to fight one of the most debilitating diseases of ourlater years. Based on the latest scientific research, Maggie has created more than 200 recipes that help providethe nutrients we need for optimum brain health. More than one million Australians are affected every day byAlzheimer’s, directly or indirectly, but the good news is that you can eat well to age well, from this moment on.
The proceeds fromMaggie’s Recipe for Lifeare shared between the Maggie Beer Foundation and the Lions Alzheimer’s Foundation.]]>
In The Way Through the Woods she reclaims the great changes in our lives – in relationships, work and family and in our bodies and selves – as transformative, alchemical moments full of possibility.
Drawing inspiration from the ebb and flow of the natural world and filled with nurturing rituals and wild magic from a witch’s toolkit, this is a must-have guide to optimising our spiritual and mental health when we lose our way.
With Rebecca as your guide, her rejuvenating wisdom will help you pause, reflect and reconnect to nature and yourself as you uncover your path forwards and thrive.]]>
Every egg there has ever been, is an emblem of survival. Yet the evolution of the animal egg is the dramatic subplot missing in many accounts of how life on Earth came to be. Quite simply, without this universal biological phenomenon, animals as we know them, including us, could not have evolved and flourished.
In Infinite Life, zoology correspondent Jules Howard takes the reader on a mind-bending journey from the churning coastlines of the Cambrian Period and Carboniferous coal forests, where insects were stirring, to the end of the age of dinosaurs when live-birthing mammals began their modern rise to power. Eggs would evolve from out of the sea; be set by animals into soils, sands, canyons and mudflats; be dropped in nests wrapped in silk; hung in stick nests in trees, covered in crystallised shells or secured by placentas.
Whether belonging to birds, insects, mammals or millipedes, animal eggs are objects that have been shaped by their ecology, forged by mass extinctions and honed by natural selection to near-perfection. Finally, the epic story of their role in the story of life can be told.]]>
Gotrek Gurnisson was the greatest monster slayer of the age, who met his doom at the End Times. The heroic Slayer stepped forth into the Realm of Chaos to fight the daemons gnawing at the world's ending and satisfy his death oath, leaving behind his companion Felix Jaeger. Now Gotrek has returned, having outlived the old gods and the Old World. Spat from the ruinous depths with his redemption unfulfilled, he emerges into the Mortal Realms, a strange new world where gods walk the earth and dark forces are ascendant. Nothing is as he remembers. His oaths are dust, and the lands are torn asunder by Chaos. Yet when Gotrek learns of human champions being elevated to immortality for Sigmar’s fight against this darkness, the so-called 'Stormcast Eternals', he knows why fate has brought him into this new age. To find Felix. For only then can he find the peace in death he seeks, but is there more to Gotrek's apotheosis than even he can fathom? Has he truly been chosen by Grimnir, and for what purpose?]]>
Witch Hunter Helchen mourns her dear friend, one of many heroes The Black Plague has sent to their grave as it consumes the kingdom. Yet she is determined to save what remains of humanity. Helchen and her companions travel to the labyrinthine canals of Zanice to obtain magical resources that would change the course of the zombie plague. Horrendous swaths of the undead mark their journey, and the companions are pursued relentlessly by necromantic forces of evil. When they discover a friend turned foe, Helchen must decide if all zombies are monsters… or if a new darkness is taking shape across the land.]]>
This EPIC dad loves adventure! Things don’t always go to plan when this dad is around, but one thing is for sure – he never gives up and he always has fun (well, mostly!)
If you thought camping was a challenge, wait until you see what happens when he takes the kids fishing!]]>
Things don’t always go to plan when this dad is around, but one thing is for sure –
Every adventure turns out EPIC in the end!
A book for the whole family to enjoy. You’ll want to know what he’s up to next…]]>
WARNING: This time, dad has taken things to the next level!
If you thought dad had a tough time camping and fishing, wait until you see him try EXTREME SPORTS!
From parkour to motorised scooters and skateboarding, this ever-optimistic dad makes sure every day is EPIC!
This book is big on resilience, adventure, family, trying new things, optimism and laughs! We can only imagine what dad will get up to next...]]>
The seventh deck in the bestselling Seasons of the Witch series reclaims Lammas, the season of harvest, success and gratitude, as the energy of the boss witch.
Explore the meanings of the 44 beautiful cards and use the invocations and practices in the guidebook to connect more deeply with the energy of Lammas as you support and nourish your dreams. This deck will guide you to believe in yourself and have the courage to chase your desires.]]>
Website: www.spiritelement.co
Instagram: @spiritelement
Juliet Diaz is an Indigenous Taino Cubana from a long line of brujx (medicine people) and seers. Juliet is a spiritual and literary activist and award-winning bestselling author. She is also the founder of Spirit Bound Press and represents the Indigenous Caribbean people with the Indigenous People's Movement, a global coalition bringing awareness on issues affecting Indigenous peoples and the planet.Juliet has been featured in major publications including Oprah Magazine, The Atlantic, Wired, People Espanol, Mind Body Green, and Refinery, and was awarded outstanding author of the year, outstanding book of the year, and outstanding deck of the year by the 2022 Witchies, Witchcraft and Occult Media Awards. Her works include Witchery: Embrace the Witch Within, Plant Witchery, The Altar Within, Seasons of the Witch oracle deck series and Earthcraft Oracle.
All social media: @iamjulietdiaz
Website: www.iamjulietdiaz.com
Tijana Lukovic is an illustrator based in the small medieval city of Gent in Belgium. Tijana's paintings and illustrations are inspired by magical and in some cases even metaphysical realm, and contain traces of folklore, fairy tale, mythology and love for nature. In her work she tries to share her observations of the ever-changing seasons and her desire to be more in tune with nature and wheel of the year. She explores her inner mind and tries to bring up those deep-buried thoughts into the light on paper. She is facing her fears, illuminating her unconscious mind and walking through the forest of her childhood memories. With her work Tijana is on a journey to understand this complex universe of worlds inside and outside us.To follow her passion of drawing and painting Tijana earned a MFA. She loves to read and collect books, but never has enough shelves to put them on.
Website: www.tijanadraws.com]]>
Patsy Bennett has worked as a professional astrologer for more than 25 years. Her daily, weekly, quarterly and yearly horoscopes are published in over 65 newspapers and magazines throughout Australia and internationally, principally by News Corp. Patsy is a rare combination of astrologer and psychic medium, and her horoscopes are a unique mix of astrological and clairvoyant insight, infused with compassionate and practical tips for the days/weeks/months ahead. She is known for her accuracy and down-to-earth yet spiritual approach to encouraging her readers to live their most fulfilling life.
www.patsybennett.com ]]>
Instagram and Tiktok: @harlequinspaceopera
Facebook: www.facebook.com/harlequinspaceopera
Website: www.harlequinspaceopera.com
]]>
Howdy, and welcome to the glittering alien desert where the moon whiskey is strong, the cowgirl boots sparkle and the ray guns are smokin'! In this world you can unapologetically be yourself and take control of your destiny.
This empowering oracle deck explores characters from classic western and sci-fi stories but provides a modern feminine twist. It features 36 magical badass babes full of rootin' tootin' galactic wisdom to empower and inspire you. From the gunslinger to the alien queen, you will get some down-to-earth advice from outta this world. Use these cards for daily inspiration, to gain insight into a problem or to inspire your next creative project.
So pull on your chaps, saddle up your alien horse and ride out into the binary star sunset!]]>
Instagram and Tiktok: @harlequinspaceopera
Facebook: www.facebook.com/harlequinspaceopera
Website: www.harlequinspaceopera.com]]>
Lighten up your year and beautify your desk with this 2024 Crystal Calendar. As you move into each month you are blessed with the energy of different crystals and positive words of wisdom to guide and inspire you. The photos of the crystals are exquisite, vibrant and gorgeous and certainly a beautiful addition to your home or office. Whether you consciously connect and work with the energy and crystals of this calendar or simply have it in your home, it will fill your world with love and inspiration.]]>
Rachelle is the author of Crystals (July 2012), Crystal Reading Cards (2015), Chakra Reading Cards (October 2016), Crystal Box Collection (March 2017), Crystal Wisdom (May 2017) Crystal Medicine Oracle (2019), Master Teacher Crystal Oracle (2021) all published by Rockpool Publishing.]]>
Nicci Garaicoa: Sunshine Coast, Queensland.
Multi-talented author, speaker, intuitive, healer, medicine woman and kinesiologist Nicci Garaicoa writes in ways that connect straight to your heart and fill you up with love. She is best known for her Full Moon Meditations, which attract thousands of people to her local beach and are watched worldwide, by thousands more. Nicci has deep connections to the earth and to the moon, which enables her to bring through abundant support into all her projects. Nicci can often be found somewhere in nature, paddling on the ocean, walking through the Australian bush or bathing under the moon, with her husband, children or fur babies. www.karmabeing.com.au
This is the only horoscope book you'll need next year!
Make 2025 your best year yet with this complete road map to your horoscope. This essential guide includes weekly forecasts for every sign and all you need to know to find out what is in store for you in 2025. It's a complete astrological reference book with inspiring and motivational forecasts so you can be well prepared for the year ahead. Discover how to best navigate your opportunities and reach your full potential. 2025 Horoscopes includes weekly horoscope predictions for all zodiac signs, tells you what you can expect and indicates the ideal days to attract wealth, love, success and more. Predictions include lunar phases and key dates for new and full moons, supermoons and eclipses, and what these mean personally for your sign. It also includes a monthly overview of your love life, finances, home life, career and health.
Patsy Bennett is a leading Australian astrologer who has been practising astrology for over 25 years.]]>
I’m so excited! Book Week’s here at last!
What will I wear for dress-up day? I need a costume fast.
With so many wonderful books to choose from, deciding on the perfect Book Week costume can be a HUGE challenge, but not when you have a family WILD about creativity!]]>
Many of the Anzacs attempted escape, with over 40 successfully making their way to England or across the battlefields of Western Europe to allied lines – to ultimately score home-runs! Crawl to Freedom is a collection of stories of those successful home-runs. From enlistment to capture, the journeys and efforts of the escapees are forensically explored as the Anzacs fight for their freedom. The astonishing stories tell of mateship, courage and determination in the face of adversity, these soldiers succeeded in overcoming their hardships to fulfill their ingenious endeavours to escape.
Crawl to Freedomcombines meticulous research with a forensic analysis to tell these astonishing stories of daring, perseverance and endurance ... stories crying out to be told for over 100 years!]]>
The tragedy was a sliding doors moment in history. Burke, Wills, and King arrived back at the famous ‘Dig Tree’ camp site, the same day that this manned outpost decided to pack up and return south towards Menindie. They missed each other by a matter of hours.
Over the last few decades revisionist history has attempted to place Burke, Wills, and the sole survivor King, within the paradigm of ‘stupid, arrogant white fellas’ who ignored the wisdom and help of the Yandruwandha people who had successfully carved out a niche along and around Cooper’s Creek. The story as told by the participants through their diaries, letters, journals, and oral history from members of the Yandruwandha clan tells a completely different story. The three men appreciated that their very survival was dependent on the Yandruwandha and much time was spent trying to keep good relations with the local indigenous clan, with a few odd exceptions.
Overall, relations between the two groups were good, and it was for this reason that King survived with the help of the Yandruwandha people – without them he too would have died. This book places the death of Burke and Wills, and the generosity and good will of the Yandruwandha clan in its proper historical context.]]>
Confronted by an imploding family of five daughters, a hapless mother and some of the language of aged care –he discovered a new calling - change management for families and their ageing parents. Since then, as a lawyer, he has been involved in countless.
family experiences, some which are truly eye-opening. He has many stories and practical advice to share and is a regular columnist and presenter on the topic of planning for ageing. Brian is an award-winning author, and public speaker and is recognised as one of Australia’s leading experts in the areas of elder law, retirement, disability and aged care where he continues to win awards as a leading elder lawyer.
For several years, Brian has been named one of Australia’s best lawyers in retirement villages and senior living law, and health and aged-care law. Including 2022 Solicitor of the Year (Large Firm) at the Queensland Law Society Excellence in Law Awards 2022. ]]>
Noel Whittaker, International bestselling author and finance writer
Winner of the Australasian Journal on Ageing (AJA) Book Award.
Informative and insightful, this is the essential family guide to navigating elder care and preparing for ageing parents. This is a book that forces us to confront what most of us avoid - planning for our ageing parents. Our natural inclination is to wait and see what might happen. But when it does happen or starts to unfold, most families are unprepared, and the results can be devastating.
Poor decisions, disputes with siblings and partners and the destruction of relationships can be the aftermath. Author Brian Herd should know, recognised as one of Australia’s leading experts in the areas of elder law, and aged care for over 35 years, he has dealt with the fallout from these failures in families.
Avoiding the Ageing Parent Trap is packed full of practical strategies for dealing with family dynamics and managing financial and legal affairs, the overriding goal, is to forewarn and forearm you about your family’s future.
This book is your go-to resource for:
- Information and practical case studies to support families in their legal, financial, and healthcare decision-making.
- Easy to read and commonsense advice from a leading elder care lawyer, with hands-on experience and examples to demonstrate what to expect, and even better, how to plan and prepare.
- Help navigating the best outcomes for aging parents, from estate planning to Centrelink, residential aged care, wills, and financial pitfalls to avoid.
Brian outlines practical strategies for dealing with family dynamics and avoiding the pitfalls. He recounts numerous hair-raising examples of bad ‘family planning’ and even better, what to expect, and how to plan and prepare.
About the Author
Brian is a passionate lawyer, working in the frontier of elder law, or law relating to older people and their families, involving the new dynamic emerging in families – disputes and dysfunction brought on by ageing parents. An award-winning author, and public speaker Brian is recognised as one of Australia’s leading experts in the areas of elder law, retirement, disability and aged care where he continues to win awards as a leading elder lawyer.he has been involved in countless family experiences, some which are truly eye-opening. He has many stories and practical advice to share and is a regular columnist and presenter on the topic of planning for ageing.]]>
Mel Brown is an Indigenous author, artist and clairvoyant who has written and illustrated many popular spiritual titles. Mel has a Masters in Indigenous Healing and Trauma from the Southern Cross University in Lismore, NSW, Australia, and many years experience of working with children at risk. Acclaimed for her expertise in cultural competency and lateral violence both nationally and internationally, she draws on her personal and professional experience to work with families and organisations ensuring Aboriginal children who are unable to live at home are not excluded from cultural connection to their families.
spiritdreaming.com.au]]>
Growing up white, Mel always felt that there was another shade to her soul.
Despite an early life marred by moments of sheer despair and the agony of domestic violence, somehow Mel found the strength to survive. Then, as a young mother, she unlocked her ancestry's secrets without realising the challenges that came with identifying as Aboriginal in Australia.
Shades of Me follows Mel's journey as she redefines who she is and how she sees her place in the world. As Aboriginal families are being torn apart, this is a story of one woman's fight to keep them together – one family at a time. And in helping others, finds her true path in life.
Mel's memoir is not just one of black or white or even a single shade in between: as she has discovered in her work for the community, everyone's story is different; hers is simply Shades of Me.]]>
Mel Brown is an Indigenous author, artist and clairvoyant who has written and illustrated many popular spiritual titles. Mel has a Masters in Indigenous Healing and Trauma from the Southern Cross University in Lismore, NSW, Australia, and many years experience of working with children at risk. Acclaimed for her expertise in cultural competency and lateral violence both nationally and internationally, she draws on her personal and professional experience to work with families and organisations ensuring Aboriginal children who are unable to live at home are not excluded from cultural connection to their families.
spiritdreaming.com.au]]>
When giant mosquito-like alien creatures invade a rural seaside community, a frustrated sheriff and two oddball exterminators end up being the town’s only hope for survival. A comedic and gruesome story for fans of Slither, Arachnophobia, and other classic creature-features!]]>
Kevin Cuffe is a father, a sorcerer and a comic book author. When not herding three dogs and dealing with three tweens, he saves the universe from extraplanar entities for the good of all mankind. He is one half of the word bros podcast and lives in Williamsburg, VA with his partner, Danielle.
I draw and, sometimes write, comic books. I complain a lot but I love it and can’t imagine not doing it. I’ve been lucky enough to work with a lot of different publishers on different and varied type stuff. Some of those publishers are TKO, DARK HORSE, IDW, TOP SHELF, BOOM!, A WAVE BLUE WORLD, IMAGE (back up type stuff), MAD CAVE, SCOUT, etc. As well as a heavy assortment of smaller indy publishers.
Be it as a writer, editor, and/or letterer, Chas! Pangburn puts words in balloons. He’s been fortunate to collaborate with various creators for publishers such as Dark Horse, IDW, Image, and Scout. In his free time, an angry corgi bosses him around for long walks throughout Cincinnati, Ohio.]]>
He also currently writes for video games and his clients include Ubisoft and Lionshead Entertainment.
Lonnie's films have played at festivals around the world. His documentary, Co-Creators, held its world premiered at the DOXA Film Festival in 2018.
If you're still reading this too-long bio,Lonnie has also penned stories for VICE, Fangoria, HuffPost, Blood-Disgusting, Seraphim Films, PanelXPanel, Ahoy! Comics Magazine, Razorblades, and numerous other publications. When Lonnie is not building worlds, he's crushed under the weight of simultaneous imposter syndrome and delusions of grandeur.]]>
Ray Fawkes is the critically-acclaimed author of the comics and graphic novels Underwinter, Intersect, One Soul, The People Inside, The Spectral Engine, Possessions, and Junction True, as well as Batman: Eternal, Constantine, Justice League Dark, and Gotham by Midnight (DC), Wolverines (Marvel), Black Hammer '45 (Dark Horse), Jackpot! (AfterShock) and more. He is an Eisner, Harvey, and Shuster award nominee and a YALSA award winner.
Ray has been making comics for over 20 years, starting with and continuing the tradition of DIY fiction as well as working for many major comics publishers in the U.S. and Canada.]]>
In her spare time, she can be found watching movies, very bad tv, falling in a wormhole of random facts, sewing, reading, exploring nature, playing with her dog, and drinking too much coffee.]]>
Z2 Comics celebrates the most crucial indie album of the new millennium withBroken Social Scene Presents: You Forgot It in People, The Graphic Novel. Paralleling the confluence that led a community of Toronto musicians to craft a winding audio epiphany, this project unites one writer and and 13 artists to create a series of intertwining vignettes inspired by the 2003 record,You Forgot It in People, on its 20th anniversary. Overseen by Broken Social Scene's Justin Peroff and Brendan Canning, writer Lonnie Nadler (X-Men,Black Stars Above) joins Eric Orchard, Ray Fawkes, Mike Feehan, Diana Nguyen, and more artists to be announced for a fully Canadian sequential art jam session.
Within these pages, a collection of seemingly disparate strangers' lives weave in and out each others' orbits, touched equally by the mundane and unexplainable. The meta of music and people and ideas harmonizing together shifts to a new medium for this touching and ambitious graphic novel.]]>
He also currently writes for video games and his clients include Ubisoft and Lionshead Entertainment.
Lonnie's films have played at festivals around the world. His documentary, Co-Creators, held its world premiered at the DOXA Film Festival in 2018.
If you're still reading this too-long bio,Lonnie has also penned stories for VICE, Fangoria, HuffPost, Blood-Disgusting, Seraphim Films, PanelXPanel, Ahoy! Comics Magazine, Razorblades, and numerous other publications. When Lonnie is not building worlds, he's crushed under the weight of simultaneous imposter syndrome and delusions of grandeur.
Justin Peroff is the drummer of Broken Social Scene.
Brendan Canning(born 1969 in Toronto, Ontario) is a Canadian indie rock performer. He is a founding member of the band Broken Social Scene .
Mike Feehan is an illustrator from Newfoundland, Canada whose work includes the award-winning mini-seriesExit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chroniclesfrom DC Comics. In addition to his comic book work, Feehan freelances as a storyboard artist and has worked on a variety of short films and advertisem*nts for internationally recognized brands. He has also collaborated with IFC, Netflix and others on social media-based animations. Prior to working full-time in illustration, Mike also worked for several years as a graphic designer and printing technician.
Ray Fawkes
Ray Fawkes is the critically-acclaimed author of the comics and graphic novels Underwinter, Intersect, One Soul, The People Inside, The Spectral Engine, Possessions, and Junction True, as well as Batman: Eternal, Constantine, Justice League Dark, and Gotham by Midnight (DC), Wolverines (Marvel), Black Hammer '45 (Dark Horse), Jackpot! (AfterShock) and more. He is an Eisner, Harvey, and Shuster award nominee and a YALSA award winner.
Ray has been making comics for over 20 years, starting with and continuing the tradition of DIY fiction as well as working for many major comics publishers in the U.S. and Canada.
Eric Orchardis a cartoonist, illustrator and writer who tells richly imagined stories for kids of all ages. He is the author and illustrator of theMaddy Kettlebooks and a number of picture books. He has won a Spectrum award for his illustrations and has been included in the Society of Illustrators annual exhibition. In school he studied painting, drawing and art history. On his own time, Eric has studied folklore as well as comic books. His first graphic novel with First Second,Bera the One-Headed Troll,was inspired by Norse fairy tales and illustrations by Arthur Rackham and Maurice Sendak. He considers himself very fortunate to be drawing books for kids all day. Eric currently lives in Toronto with his wife, two young sons, and studio companion: Albert Pineapple the parrot.
Diana Nguy?n is a Vietnamese-Canadian freelance illustrator and comic artist, currently based in Toronto. Her love of line and mark-making informs much of her work. She often utilizes negative space, intentional lines, and a minimal colour palette to amplify emotional undertones. She is interested in marginalized stories, memories, relationships between people, nature, and the magic of mundane moments.
In her spare time, she can be found watching movies, very bad tv, falling in a wormhole of random facts, sewing, reading, exploring nature, playing with her dog, and drinking too much coffee.]]>
His work has been published by DC Comics, Marvel, Dark Horse, Heavy Metal, Image, Glénat, Dargaud, Eris Edizioni, The New York Times, Harper’s Magazine, etc.
Since 1997 he has created a series of multimedia performances merging live painting with live music. They premiered in Europe and the USA.
In 2001 in Zagreb, Croatia he has co-founded a publishing house and graphic workshop Petikat.
He lives and works in Brooklyn and Zagreb.]]>
Mellon attended Blue Springs South High School and is a graduate of the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Arts. He broke into the comics industry in 2007 with the publication ofGearhead, which was written by Kansas City’sDennis Hopeless. Mellon and Hopeless also collaborated onLovestruck.
In 2011, Mellon teamed with television personalityBlair ButlerforHeart, a four-issue limited set in the world of mixed martial arts.]]>
John has built a reputation as an inimitable talent through his varied portfolio producing bespoke illustrations for clients as diverse asImage Comics,Titan Comics,2000 AD,Heavy Metal Magazine,44Flood,Vice Press,WWE,Rue Morgue Magazine,The Ray Harryhausen Foundation,Nuclear Blast RecordsandKendall Calling Festivalamongst many others. He is also an award-shortlisted comic book artist, self-publishing – with co-creatorOwen Michael Johnson- the critically-acclaimed seriesBeast WagonwhichThe Guardiandescribed as a‘twisted zoological fable’.
John fuses traditional drawing techniques, digital painting and collage to produce highly-detailed and darkly compelling images across a range of printed media. Combining elements of photorealism, popular culture, abstraction and psychedelia to create a unique style and versatility in approach that appeals to a wide spectrum of audiences.
John has exhibited in the UK and USA, organised extensive art experiences across the country, and produced live murals at high profile events both independently and as part of Leeds based art collectives.]]>
Bell has had the opportunity to work with many notable and diverse artists throughout his career, including acclaimed graphic artists Dave McKean and Ben Templesmith, to create artwork for the Fear Factory albums, Demanufacture, Obsolete, and Transgression. In 2015 Bell worked with UK artist Noel Guard to create his first graphic novel, The Industrialist, which subsequently sold out upon release.
Bell is currently working on his conceptual music project, Ascension of The Watchers, as well as new writing projects, and creative endeavors in various mediums. www.burtoncbell.com]]>
With a drawing style that’s been described as Disney meets Mad Magazine, Steve Chanks has inked his way into such mags as Maxim, Revolver, and Guitar World and has clothed the fans of bands like Mastodon, Lamb of God, Trivium and Avenged Sevenfold.
Along with his best buds, Josh Bernstein and Erik Rodriquez, Steve Chanks is a pivotal member of the art mafia know as The #Number Foundation who are solely responsible for the ever politically uncorrect trash culture rag, Royal Flush Magazine.
Steve lives in scenic Queens, New York with his heart throb wife, Jessica and their Justin Beiber-hating daughter, Claudia where they enjoy short walks, Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, crap collecting and BBQing.]]>
Most recently he has been working for various publishers includingVertigo, DC, IDW, Marvel and Titan Books.]]>
In the grand tradition established by Z2, the Vulgar Display of Power 30th anniversary graphic novel unites famous fans of the band throughout comics and music to team up on adaptations of all eleven of the album’s tracks. Creators including Alan Robert (Life of Agony), Eric Peterson (Testament), Keith Buckley (Every Time I Die), Burton C. Bell (Fear Factory), Steve Niles (30 Days of Night), Ryan J. Downey (MTV News), Tony Lee (Dr. Who) and illustrators Paul Booth, Erik Rodriguez, Ryan Kelly, Steve Chanks, Kevin Mellon, John Pearson and Danijel Zezelj will each offer a unique interpretation inspired by the lyrics and music to create a whole new way to experience this landmark work of heavy art.]]>
Danijel Žeželj is a graphic novelist, animator, illustrator and painter. He is author of twenty five graphic novels and eight short animation movies.
His work has been published by DC Comics, Marvel, Dark Horse, Heavy Metal, Image, Glénat, Dargaud, Eris Edizioni, The New York Times, Harper’s Magazine, etc.
Since 1997 he has created a series of multimedia performances merging live painting with live music. They premiered in Europe and the USA.
In 2001 in Zagreb, Croatia he has co-founded a publishing house and graphic workshop Petikat.
He lives and works in Brooklyn and Zagreb.
Kevin Mellonis a Kansas City-based comics artist. His work includesGearhead(Arcana Studio),Lovestruck(Image Comics),S.H.I.E.L.D.(Marvel), andHeart(Image Comics).
Mellon attended Blue Springs South High School and is a graduate of the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Arts. He broke into the comics industry in 2007 with the publication ofGearhead, which was written by Kansas City’sDennis Hopeless. Mellon and Hopeless also collaborated onLovestruck.
In 2011, Mellon teamed with television personalityBlair ButlerforHeart, a four-issue limited set in the world of mixed martial arts.
Ian Edginton is a New York Times bestselling author and multiple Eisner Award nominee. He is currently writing Batman’66 meets The Avengers (Steed and Mrs Peel, not the other ones!) for DC Comics as well as Judge Dredd, Stickleback, Helium, Kingmaker and Brass Sun for 2000 AD. He lives and works in Birmingham, England.
John Pearsonis a British Comic Award shortlisted illustrator and artist based in Leeds UK.
John has built a reputation as an inimitable talent through his varied portfolio producing bespoke illustrations for clients as diverse asImage Comics,Titan Comics,2000 AD,Heavy Metal Magazine,44Flood,Vice Press,WWE,Rue Morgue Magazine,The Ray Harryhausen Foundation,Nuclear Blast RecordsandKendall Calling Festivalamongst many others. He is also an award-shortlisted comic book artist, self-publishing – with co-creatorOwen Michael Johnson- the critically-acclaimed seriesBeast WagonwhichThe Guardiandescribed as a‘twisted zoological fable’.
John fuses traditional drawing techniques, digital painting and collage to produce highly-detailed and darkly compelling images across a range of printed media. Combining elements of photorealism, popular culture, abstraction and psychedelia to create a unique style and versatility in approach that appeals to a wide spectrum of audiences.
John has exhibited in the UK and USA, organised extensive art experiences across the country, and produced live murals at high profile events both independently and as part of Leeds based art collectives.
Over the last two decades, Alan Robert's band Life of Agony has built a die-hard cult following, selling over one million albums worldwide. Life of Agony is set to release their 5th studio albumA Place Where There's No More Painthrough Napalm Records on April 28, 2017. Rolling Stone hailed it as “One of the Most Anticipated Albums of the Year.” Robert is also the critically acclaimed author/artist of several IDW creator-owned comic book series. Titles includeCrawl to Me,KillogyandWire Hangers.Crawl to Meis currently in development to become a live-action feature film.
Dave Johnsonis an American comic book artist. He began his career in 1985 working forComicoon the titleRobotech. In 1991 he was hired byDark Horse Comicsand one year later he started working for DC's imprintImpact Comicson the titleThe Web. His first official DC Comics publication was in 1992 in theDemontitle and since then he has worked on many other titles including R.E.B.E.L.S.; Wonder Woman, The Spectre and more.
Burton C. Bell is an active, Grammy nominated artist, songwriter, lyricist, vocalist, and author. Best known as the co-founder of the industrial/metal band Fear Factory. Bell's notable sci-fi/dystopian concepts, writings and visions of the future can be seen manifesting in today’s world.
Bell has had the opportunity to work with many notable and diverse artists throughout his career, including acclaimed graphic artists Dave McKean and Ben Templesmith, to create artwork for the Fear Factory albums, Demanufacture, Obsolete, and Transgression. In 2015 Bell worked with UK artist Noel Guard to create his first graphic novel, The Industrialist, which subsequently sold out upon release.
Bell is currently working on his conceptual music project, Ascension of The Watchers, as well as new writing projects, and creative endeavors in various mediums. www.burtoncbell.com
-A multiple-time New York Times Best-seller List and Eagle Award winning Writer, Tony Lee has worked professionally for over thirty years, including a decade in trade journalism and media marketing/creation for radio. Since returning to comics in 2003 he has written for Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Dynamite Entertainment, Titan Publishing, Markosia, 2000ad and IDW Publishing amongst others, writing a variety of creator owned titles and licenses that include X-Men, Spider Man, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Doctor Who, Superboy, Starship Troopers, Wallace & Gromit and Shrek.
Keith Buckley is an American rock musician, best known as the vocalist and lyricist of the now defunct hardcore punk band Every Time I Die and the heavy metal supergroup The Damned Things. He is also a published author.
Rodrigo Lujanis an artist and illustrator who has collaboratedwith more than a hundred publications across Agentina, France, Spain, Puerto Rico, Colombia, and the US.
Raised on a steady diet of Tom & Jerry, Star Wars, Freddy Krueger and Marvel Comics since the late 70s, Steve Chanks has distilled the very best of his distorted pop culture view into a big titted, puss-filled, pulp daydream.
With a drawing style that’s been described as Disney meets Mad Magazine, Steve Chanks has inked his way into such mags as Maxim, Revolver, and Guitar World and has clothed the fans of bands like Mastodon, Lamb of God, Trivium and Avenged Sevenfold.
Along with his best buds, Josh Bernstein and Erik Rodriquez, Steve Chanks is a pivotal member of the art mafia know as The #Number Foundation who are solely responsible for the ever politically uncorrect trash culture rag, Royal Flush Magazine.
Steve lives in scenic Queens, New York with his heart throb wife, Jessica and their Justin Beiber-hating daughter, Claudia where they enjoy short walks, Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, crap collecting and BBQing.
Born in Spain, Palo studied at the Joso school and entered comics from the graphic design field in 2005. Notable Works include "Moon Knight" and "Ghost Panther Volume 1" plus contributgions to Reginald Hudlin's "Black Panther Volume 3".
Eric Peterson is a comic book writer living out of the dusty mountains of Ahwatukee near Phoenix, Arizona. He is the co-creator ofSpace Bastards, which he considers his third child (the other two being actual breathing human children). Eric grew up making movies in his backyard.Space Bastardsis what happens when a person does that for many years and then thinks, "What is the one comic we could create that surely would just be too uncanny for people to grasp or love?" Eric Peterson currently spends his time coming to terms with an audience actually graspingSpace Bastards.
Diego Yapur is a Argentine Comic Illustrator and Penciler, Was Born in March 20, 1981 in Belén, Cat
Agustin Padillais a professional comic book artist. He started working in 2009 forIDW Publishingon the titleG.I. Joe. In 2010 he began working forMarvel Comicson the titleCaptain Americaand later that year he worked forDC Comicson the titleBruce Wayne: The Road Home: Oracle.
Most recently he has been working for various publishers includingVertigo, DC, IDW, Marvel and Titan Books.
Ryan Kelly is an American comic book artist, known for his work on books such as Lucifer and Local.]]>
Dan Watters is a writer. His first graphic novel, LIMBO, came out in 2016, and led to him writing Lucifer for Neil Gaiman’s Sandman Universe at DC. Currently he’s working on titles for franchises such as Batman, Cowboy Bebop, and King Diamond’s Abigail, as well as the creator-owned Home Sick Pilots. He lives in West London with a partner, a vaguely ferocious cat, and far too many books for a West London apartment (or so he is told).]]>
Richard lives in Glendale, CA, with his wife, their two sons, and a Husky named Lulu.]]>
After her father is wrongfully accused of a crime he didn't commit, fifteen-year-old Sophie Cooper volunteers for an internship at a Miami TV news station. Between logging tapes and fetching coffee, she secretly investigates South Florida’s rampant paranormal activity in order to clear her family’s name — and unwittingly stumbles upon a secret, supernatural conspiracy that threatens the entire world.]]>
Richard lives in Glendale, CA, with his wife, their two sons, and a Husky named Lulu.
Joseph Cooper is an American artist originally from Detroit, MI. After getting his start freelancing for local advertising agencies, he attended the prestigious School of Visual Arts in New York City. He’s worked for almost every major American comic book publisher, most notably Marvel, DC, Valiant, Dynamite, and Image. Outside of comics, he was an illustrator at the venerable skateboard company Powell-Peralta for many years. Joe is currently living the good life in sunny Southern California with his wife and son.]]>
"A John Doe slaying lures a journalist into a world of political intrigue, a wi-fi-enabled grotto, and a station locker full of secrets. For Bucky, an editor of the crime beat at ""The Truth,"" it's all in a day's work…
...but he also happens to be a deer.
Will he chase down his last story in this antler noir series? Deer Editor is perfect for fans of Blacksad and Chinatown."]]>
After losing their parents in a pogrom, teenage siblings Alex and Yuli use the mystical power of a Golem to survive the chaos of the Russian Civil War. In a harrowing journey through war-torn Ukraine, the duo will face the harsh reality of warfare, ethnic bias, and national pride as they fight for their own place in the world.]]>
A massive newly revised guide that covers 898 Pokémon! Fully illustrated and totally comprehensive, this two-volume series includes full-color pictures, descriptions, and stats on Abilities, moves, and Evolutions!
This second volume of a two-book set, organized by Pokédex number, includes data on 456 Pokémon, from Gible to Calyrex! Plus details on many regional, Gigantamax, and Mega Evolution forms!]]>
Sapphire and Emerald need Ruby’s help to stop a crisis of planetary proportions—a meteor hurtling toward their home!
Under orders from Joseph Stone, president of the Devon Corporation, the nefarious Pokémon energy absorption plan continues to move forward. Already filled with unease, Sapphire and Emerald are inexplicably attacked by Zinnia, another Trainer.
Meanwhile, can Ruby find the elusive Pokémon Rayquaza?!]]>
Satoshi Yamamoto is the artist for Pokémon Adventures, which he began working on in 2001, starting with volume 10. Yamamoto launched his manga career in 1993 with the horror-action title Kimen Senshi, which ran in Shogakukan’s Weekly Shonen Sunday magazine, followed by the series Kaze no Denshosha. Yamamoto’s favorite manga creators/artists include FUJIKO F FUJIO (Doraemon), Yukinobu Hoshino (2001 Nights), and Katsuhiro Otomo (Akira). He loves films, monsters, detective novels, and punk rock music. He uses the Pokémon Swalot as his artist portrait.]]>
After 30 years as a manga editor, Kazuo Shiozawa suddenly quits. Although he feels early retirement is the only way to atone for his failures as an editor, the manga world isn’t done with him.
Shiozawa forges ahead with an independently published manga project. But the manga creators around him are crumbling into chaos—Chosaku drinks himself into ever less productivity over worries about his career and family, a longtime creator can’t discern the difference between fiction and fantasy, and Aoki disappears rather than face the deadlines for his new hit series. Sometimes, the simple pleasure of an apple is worth more than all the fame and toil of making manga.]]>
Let the games begin! Since childhood, Yukiya Asagi and Miku Sakura have played the Love Game, where they try to fluster each other with a simple “I love you.” But after falling in love for real and refusing to admit it, neither of them can afford to lose this battle!
With the burning sensation of love in their chests growing hotter, Miku and Yukiya push the boundaries of the Love Game! Between a scandalous hand-holding competition and an after-school coffee date, it’s like they’re aiming for the world record in alove speedrun!]]>
Best friends Tokio and Azuma do everything together, even if most of the time it feels like Tokio is just stumbling along in Azuma’s cooler, more talented footsteps. But when they’re attacked one night by a superhuman mutant called a choujin, Tokio finally has a chance to shine—by turning into a choujin himself!
After being kidnapped from training camp, Tokio and his friends end up at the Tower of Mourning, home of a creepy choujin named Zora. It turns out she’s actually Sora Siruha, the founder of Yamato Mori, and now she wants Tokio’s help in fighting the dark future her (possibly false) prophetic visions have foretold. It’s all very weird and confusing, and Tokio needs some time before committing his body to her questionable cause. But enormous unhinged monster choujin aren’t known for their patience! Can his friends help him escape, or will he be conscripted into Zora’s growing choujin army?]]>
After a dangerous encounter with a malevolent spirit, Keitaro Gentoga wants nothing to do with the supernatural. Unfortunately for this reluctant ghost magnet, he’s stuck helping Yayoi Hozuki—a strange young girl who’s intent on capturing Japan’s most terrifying ghosts and ghouls.
Before they can tackle their next haunted site, Keitaro, Yayoi, and Eiko need to collect another of the sealed Graduates—a vengeful courtesan who’s eager to escape Yayoi’s control. However, things turn even more dangerous when Keitaro is drawn into the spirit world, forcing him to face the horrors of a haunted love hotel all on his own.]]>
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From the day his parents named him, Nasa Yuzaki has felt connected to outer space…whether he likes it or not. His efforts to outperform the space program veer off course when an accident introduces him to Tsukasa, a mysterious girl with strange powers. Is she an alien, a moon goddess, or something else? Since she insists on marrying him, Nasa will have plenty of chances to find out!
Tsukasa and Nasa are closer than ever to unlocking the mystery of her eternal curse, but Tsukasa finds herself haunted by memories of the past. Things only get more emo when the newlyweds are called upon to tend the Yuzaki family grave, which reminds Nasa of his eccentric grandfather, a WWII vet who claimed to have met a demon. On the bright side, Nasa finally gets the technological inspiration he needs—by obsessing over swimsuits!]]>
Nearly 200 years after the destruction of humanity in World War III, Roue lives a happy life exploring the ruins of civilization with her “uncle,” a robot named Zett. But when their peaceful life is threatened, Roue must trust the mysterious robot Chrome to bring her family together again.
General Wodan has been waiting centuries for the one thing he needs to make his dreams of the ultimate command a reality—a human biosignature. And now that Roue has fallen into his lap, he’s able to rewrite the base program of every gear in Valhalla and force them to fight according to his will. The general has declared war, and Chrome must emerge victorious to have any hope of saving Roue before it’s too late!]]>
After the Demon Lord is slain at the hands of a lone human warrior, humans rejoice over the end of his reign of terror. But an intense tournament of powerful fighters hoping to be crowned the next Demon Lord has drawn in the unlikeliest of contestants—Helck, who claims to hate humans but is one himself! How will Helck change the course of the war between demons and humankind?
As the Empire’s army sets out to destroy the towers, a structure pivotal to the humans’ plans, Helck and Vermilio enter the Land of the Humans to confront the Human King. The pair battle through deadly traps and monstrous golems, but the real danger lies in the truth they uncover in the bowels of the castle…]]>
The legendary Shonen Jump series is now available in deluxe hardcover editions featuring color pages! JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure is a groundbreaking manga famous for its outlandish characters, wild humor and frenetic battles.
The true reason Ermes is inprison is revealed—to seek revenge for her sister’s murder by killing Sports Maximum! Jolyne rushes to stop her before she makes the biggest mistake of her life. But unbeknownst to either of them, Sports Maximum is host to the Stand Limp Viscuit. After a vicious battle, Jolyne is sent to the maximum security disciplinary wing. But like a true Joestar, she does not intend to let her fight to save her father’s life end there. She continues to hone her strength—that is, until, Father Pucchi sets loose a number of Stand users in search of the mysterious bone that Jolyne once held in her possession. All hell breaks loose as prisoners and guards start murdering each other, and Jolyne takes this opportunity to escape. Meanwhile, F.F. enlists the help of an unlikely, dangerous ally to help save Jolyne: the murderous Anastasia, who is hell-bent on…marrying Jolyne?]]>
Suiren Shibazeki is often compared to a beautiful flower—but one that grows on the tallest peak of a mountain, forever out of reach. When Suiren develops feelings for the quiet Taichi Kawasumi, however, she doesn’t want to be a distant flower. She’d rather leave her lofty perch and fly toward him like a butterfly.
Suiren and Kawasumi are finally going on their first date! Unfortunately, neither one of them is quite sure what they’re supposed to do on one. Their day out together takes an upsetting turn, and now that Suiren finds herself hiding an embarrassing secret, will things go from bad to worse if Kawasumi finds out what it is?]]>
Nothing about Saitama passes the eyeball test when it comes to superheroes, from his lifeless expression to his bald head to his unimpressive physique. However, this average-looking guy has a not-so-average problem—he just can’t seem to find an opponent strong enough to take on!
Psychos and Tornado’s psychic battle rages on! With Genos’s help, Tornado succeeds in rescuing the scattered heroes from their fight against the monsters, allowing her to unleasha devastating attack that warps the city. Althoughthe outlook appears grim,a group ofS-class heroes finds the inspiration to turn the tide of battle!]]>
A highly decorated and skilled artist best known for his work on Eyeshield 21, Yusuke Murata won the 122nd Hop Step Award (1995) for Partner and placed second in the 51st Akatsuka Award (1998) for Samui Hanashi.]]>
Fumi Nishioka lives with Kyutaro Horikita and his family of "Sweepers," people who specialize in cleaning the minds of those overcome by negative energy and harmful spirits. Fumi has always displayed mysterious abilities, but will those powers be used for evil when she begins to truly awaken as a Queen?
Kyutaro and friends capture Tsubasa of the Suzaku clan, but they’re surprised at Tsubasa’s confession—he wants to kill fellow Suzaku members Yanagi and K! An even greater mystery is K’s connection to Fumi. Is Fumi prepared for the shocking truth about her past?]]>
A mysterious boy comes to Saku Fujigaya’s rescue when she falls ill on a train, but he leaves before she can thank him. After this experience, Saku never ignores strangers in need of help to emulate the boy who helped her.
Now that Saku realizes she’s in love with Haruki, she finds her heart racing for a new reason every day—until Haruki and Kotono start pretending to be a couple to protect Kotono from her ex-boyfriend. Then the blunt-speaking Iryu gets involved in Saku’s life, causing even more trouble!]]>
When Ritsu Onodera changes jobs, looking for a fresh start, he's not exactly thrilled when his new boss turns out to be his old flame. Ritsu's determined to leave all that in the past—but how can he when his boss is just as determined that they have a future?
Manga editor Ritsu Onodera already feels like his job at Marukawa Publishing’s Emerald shojo magazine is going to drive him nuts, but then his boss—and first love!—Masamune Takano assigns him special "homework." On top of that, he begins working with a brand-new manga creator making her debut, but she’s disappointed when she finds out Takano won’t be her editor! Meanwhile, Ritsu extracts a promise from Takano for no kissing and no sex until he properly confesses. Takano (barely) keeps it, but with his relentless teasing, how long will Ritsu be able to hold back his own sexual frustration?]]>
DOB December 13
Sagittarius
Blood Type O]]>
Nate Adams is just an average kid until the mysterious Whisper gives him the Yo-kai Watch. Now he can see what others cannot: Yo-kaiof all shapes and forms!
Whisper, Nate’s trusty Yo-Kai advisor, suddenly disappears! The bond between them sparks an event that shakes the Yo-Kai World and brings all kinds of mischievous spirits out to play. Don’t miss this final volume that ties together Yo-Kai Watch stories from the manga, anime, movies, and video game!]]>
After spending years slaving away for a soul-crushing company, Akira’s life has lost its luster. But when a zombie apocalypse ravages his town, it gives him the push he needs to live for himself. Now Akira’s on a mission to complete all 100 items on his bucket list before he...well, kicks the bucket.
Izuna has snapped into the team leader role with panache, but the final boss’s recoveryability puts the gang in desperate straits! Later, in Hakata, Kencho takes a trip back home, but will he find his family’s house still standing? And just who is it that he’s left the group to go searching for?]]>
Kotaro Takata first hit the manga scene in 2009 with Hallelujah Overdrive!, which ran in Monthly Shonen Sunday magazine. In 2017, he served as the artist on another Monthly Shonen Sunday title called I Am Sherlock, written by Naomichi Io. Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead is his follow-up series.]]>
Defiant and vulgar, Princess Kaguya Takenouchi is not the heir to the moon’s Silver Court that her mother’s retainers had hoped for. But when the empress falls ill during a wave of terrorist attacks, Kaguya resolves to do right by her people and rise to the occasion.
After Kaguya has a chance meeting with Toyo, the younger sister of Kiruhito Matsunouchi, the pair travel to the capital in order to clear the name of Kaguya’s mother. Meanwhile, Kiruhito learns the truthbehind thedevastatingincident 16 years ago and vows to kill his emperor. New alliances lead to big changes!]]>
What would the world be like if 80 percent of the population manifested superpowers called “Quirks”? Heroes and villains would be battling it out everywhere! Being a hero would mean learning to use your power, but where would you go to study? The Hero Academy of course! But what would you do if you were one of the 20 percent who were born Quirkless?
In the desperate battle with All For One and his minions, the U.A. students are pushing themselves to their absolute limits. Everywhere, the villains have the upper hand. As the floating U.A. island falls out of the sky, Ochaco and Asui fight Himiko Toga, and Midoriya squares off with Tomura. All For One’s new form appears all but unstoppable, and if he reaches Tomura, all is lost. But one hero stands in his way…]]>
These four friends couldn’t be more different: Natsuki Hashiba, a dreamer who longs for love, Tomoya Matsunaga, a self-centered playboy, Keiichi Katakura, a winsome guy with a hidden saucy streak, and Tsuyoshi Naoe, a socially awkward nerd who loves anime, manga, and games. Together their high school days are as vibrant as rainbows!
Mocchi from the basketball team has asked Anna out! Afterward, Natsuki finds himself helpless in stopping his friendship with Anna from becoming awkward… Meanwhile, Mattsun notices Mari’s feelings are gradually changing, so he decides it’s time for them to have a serious talk!]]>
Taro Sakamoto was once a legendary hit man considered the greatest of all time. Bad guys feared him! Assassins revered him! But then one day he quit, got married, and had a baby. He’s now living the quiet life as the owner of a neighborhood store, but how long can Sakamoto enjoy his days of retirement before his past catches up to him?!
It’s an assassin showdown! Shishiba and Osaragi take on Yotsumura and his geisha on the streets of Kyoto. What happened between Shishiba and Yotsumura in the past to sour their mentor-disciple relationship? Meanwhile, chaos engulfs the JCC as the battle between Sakamoto and Kanaguri comes to a head!]]>
Shirayuki is an herbalist famous for her naturally bright-red hair, and the prince of Tanbarun wants her all to himself! The prince from the neighboring kingdom, Zen, rescues her from her plight, and thus begins their love story.
Shirayuki and company have at last received permission from Lord Eisetsu to spread the light-bringing phostyrias plant. Back in Lilias, as the team prepares for the next phase of the plant propagation plan, Ryu makes a major decision of his own! And it seems that a job offer has been posted in the City of Academics—one seeking an herbalist with very particular qualifications!]]>
The Twin Star Exorcists aredestinedto end the war with the monstrous Kegare…but at what price?
What is Gabura’s true identity, and who will bewilling to sacrifice everything to prevent him from killing their beloved? Meanwhile, Chinu offers Rokuro a tempting yet perilous deal to save Benio…]]>
Ajin boys who show signs of special abilities are conscripted to serve in the imperial palace as beast-servants—status symbols and shields for their royal masters, to be kept or discarded on a whim. When they were children, Rangetsu’s twin brother Sogetsu was ripped from her arms and sent to the palace to attend Prince Tenyou as a beast-servant, where he quickly fell victim to bloody dynastic intrigues. Now in a world that promises only bitterness, Rangetsu’s one hope at avenging her brother is to disguise herself as a man and find a way into the palace!
Rangetsu left the palace because she saw no future for herself and Prince Tenyou. But now that the imperial princes are working together to improve the lives of Ajin in the kingdom, Rangetsu once again has hope. She even passes the difficult imperial military exam to become the first Ajin to be granted an officer’s rank, earning her the right to return to the palace and Prince Tenyou’s side. But not everyone is in favor of the changes. Will increasing tension with the neighboring countries make war inevitable?]]>
From a forgotten one-night stand to a plan for revenge, Shizuma and Minato have been through it all. But now that they’re officially a couple, new challenges await, and their fledgling relationship must learn to soar!
Minato has been tying himself in knots over Shizuma’s relationship with the director of the animal hospital where he works, but his lover is able to ease his mind and convince him she is of no threat to their relationship. The couple shelves the issue and gets back to apartment hunting,and before long they luck out infinding a place they both like! Will they finally get to live together, or does the universe yet again have other plans?]]>
Ever since Goku became Earth’s greatest hero and gathered the seven Dragon Balls to defeat the evil Boo, his life on Earth has grown a little dull. But new threats loom overhead, and Goku and his friends will have to defend the planet once again in this continuation of Akira Toriyama’s best-selling series, Dragon Ball!
In the wake of the commotion on Mt. Butterfly, Trunks decides to take a look into the data on the disc that he stole from Dr. Hedo’s lab. However, the evil scientist intends to steal it back! And his genius plan is to create an android to infiltrate Trunks’s school as a transfer student named Baytah. Meanwhile, the dastardly Red Ribbon Army is rising from the ashes and making new plans of their own…]]>
Toyotarou created the manga adaptation for the Dragon Ball Z anime’s 2015 film, Dragon Ball Z: Resurrection F. He is also the author of the spin-off series Dragon Ball Heroes: Victory Mission, which debuted in V-Jump in Japan in November 2012.]]>
Free-spirited Yuri Hasegawa and straitlaced Keiichiro Katsuragi have fallen in love. But his elite political family—producing a line of prime ministers—does not allow male descendants to engage in any sexual relations until they are 18. Can the physically affectionate Yuri and rule-abiding Keiichiro keep their relationship strictly chaste?
Yuri and Keiichiro have gotten to know each other on their daily commute to their respective high schools. Yuri makes a passionate love confession to Keiichiro, and he feels the same! Yuri rushes in to kiss her new boyfriend, but…!]]>
At 29 years old, carefree Hiroto Ikuta doesn’t have a girlfriend, a full-time job, or a plan for the future—and he couldn’t be happier. Hiroto’s breezy attitude isn’t easy for everyone to understand, though. In a world filled with anxiety, confusion, and grief, Hiroto and the people who surround him are all just doing their best to figure out this thing called life.
After developing an unlikely friendship with the grouchy oldwoman who lives in his neighborhood, Hiroto suddenly finds himself inheriting not just her house but some rather difficult emotions as well. His 18-year-old cousin, Natsumi, moves in with him, but as a struggling art student, she has her own troubles to deal with and may just put Hiroto’s easygoing lifestyle to the test.]]>
With the highest kaiju-emergence rates in the world, Japan is no stranger to attack by deadly monsters. Enter the Japan Defense Force, a military organization tasked with the neutralization of kaiju. Kafka Hibino, a kaiju-corpse cleanup man, has always dreamed of joining the force. But when he gets another shot at achieving his childhood dream, he undergoes an unexpected transformation. How can he fight kaiju now that he’s become one himself?!
With kaiju cataclysms transpiring across Japan, Hoshina heads into battle equipped with Numbers Weapon 10 and soon discovers that wielding the first-ever sentient kaiju weapon won’t be easy. Meanwhile, back in the Oizumi area where Kafka is, six supergiant-class kaiju emerge, worsening an already grave situation. But just as things get dire, some unexpected backup arrives!]]>
In 1941, beautiful Irvel Holland is too focused on her secret to take much notice of the war raging overseas. She’s dating Sam but in love with his younger brother, Hank—her longtime best friend—and Irvel has no idea how to break the news. Then the unthinkable happens—Pearl Harbor is attacked. With their lives turned upside down overnight, Sam is drafted and convinces Hank to remain in Indiana, where he and Irvel take up the battle on the home front.
While Sam fights in Europe, an undeniable chemistry builds between Irvel and Hank but neither would dare cross that line. Then, two military leaders pay Irvel a visit at the classroom where she teaches. The men have plans for her, a proposition to join a new spy network. One catch: She can tell no one.
With Irvel caught between two brothers thousands of miles apart, can love find a way, even from the ashes of the greatest heartbreak?]]>
Red was the last color, the very last. That’s what Dr. Edmonds was saying.
Irvel Myers’s mind would splinter and fracture and fade under the burden of Alzheimer’s, and she would forget the love that long ago caused her world to stop and stare in awe. Irvel and Hank. In little time, she would no longer know his face or his voice, or Hank himself, the one who had held her hand when she said, “I do,” and who had stood beside her that rainy Wednesday morning in Bloomington, Indiana, when she delivered their son.
Her brain would release to nothingness the name of that boy, the one she had cherished for thirty-two years, and also the smell and feel of the wood and walls and windows of the house where her life had taken shape for the past four decades, and it would do something else. It would erase entirely her years as a spy for the Office of Strategic Services.
But until the very end, it would remember the color red.
That’s what the doctor was saying.
Irvel Myers adjusted her sweater and tapped both feet on the floor beneath the doctor’s desk. The tick of the clock on the wall was louder than before. Deafening. The doctor stopped talking. For a long time, he didn’t say a word, just stared at them. And Irvel wanted to scream. How could this be happening? Her strong and glorious mind was dying? Through the years of fighting for her life and her heart, Irvel could always count on three things.
God. Hank. And her mental acuity. Until now…
Tall, strong Hank released a guttural sound. Like someone had kicked him below his ribs and he was still trying to figure out how to inhale. He tightened his hold on Irvel’s hand and whispered his next words. “How… how long?”
It was the only question that mattered.
Dr. Edmonds looked down at Irvel’s file and after a beat he lifted his eyes. “Since your first exam, your degeneration has been happening at a rapid pace.”
Her first exam. Irvel blinked and stared out the window. Two months ago today, Hank had brought her to this same office. Irvel had been acting scattered. That’s how Hank had described it. “You’re just a little scattered, my love.”
Setting dirty dishes in the refrigerator. Pulling into the driveway of the wrong house. Calling Hank from a pay phone and asking if he remembered the name of their favorite grocery store. “I know what I need to make chicken piccata.” She had forced a nervous laugh. “But for the life of me, I can’t remember where the store is.”
Now the doctor exhaled. He hesitated, as if the news was only real and true and terrible if he spoke it out loud. Finally, his answer pushed its way through. “By my estimation, you’ll need full-time care sometime in the next year, Mrs. Myers.”
A year? The word hovered over her and screamed at her and consumed her in a single instant. And as it had done all her life, Irvel’s mathematical brain imagined that time in increments. Precious, passing, dissolving, disappearing sections of time. Three-hundred and sixty-five days… fifty-two weeks… twelve months.
“I have to be honest here.” The doctor lifted his eyes to Hank and then to Irvel. “You may only have six months.”
Hank was holding on to her hand so hard now she was losing feeling in it. She slid her chair closer to his, so their arms were touching. Hank’s arm against hers, his skin against her skin. Because the two of them were only halves of a greater one. So that if he were close by, if she could feel him next to her, then maybe she would be okay after all.
The doctor was going on about a host of medications, two of which he’d like to try. The side effects included sleepiness, dizziness, mood swings and confusion. Which, of course, sounded a lot like Alzheimer’s, itself. Irvel stared at her hands and then at her husband. The doctor was still talking.
“Though slight, there is an increased risk of brain bleeds and therefore, a greater chance of premature death with these drugs, I have to tell you that. But we hope that over time they prevent the progression of disease for at least—”
“Excuse me.” Hank held up his hand. “I have a question.”
The doctor fell silent.
Hank blinked. “Will… the drugs reverse Irvel’s symptoms?” Hank looked at her, and then at the doctor again.
For a few seconds, Dr. Edmonds stayed quiet, his face slack. Then he took a slow breath. “Mr. Myers, there are no drugs that cure Alzheimer’s disease, no drugs that reverse symptoms. Good evidence exists that certain medications can slow progression for a while, maybe ease symptoms. But there are no guarantees. With the medications I’m recommending, some people experience favorable results. Some suffer worsening levels of dementia.” He paused. “It’s a personal choice.”
Hank nodded. His eyes told Irvel he was sorting through his options. Fast. Like a man running out of time. He made a fist with his free hand. “Do we have to decide now?”
Dr. Edmonds hesitated. “If the drugs are going to make an impact, they need to be taken on the front end of an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. We’ll need to act quickly to accomplish that. Your wife is already struggling to remember.”
Irvel sat straighter in her chair. “That’s not true.” She blinked, her eyes locked on the doctor’s. “Forgetting my keys or… or putting the milk in the cupboard does not mean I’m struggling to remember.” She looked at Hank. The hint of tears made her voice waver. “I remember everything.”
A perplexed look came over the doctor’s face. He closed Irvel’s file and leaned back in his chair. “We can hold off on the medications. I want you both to be comfortable with your decision.”
Hank nodded. “Thank you.” He stood and helped Irvel to her feet. “We’ll be in touch.”
On their way out of the office, Irvel stopped at the door. “Our car’s to the left, yes?”
“Actually it’s to the right.” He smiled. Then he put his arm around her and opened the door. “It’s a confusing building.”
That was it. Very confusing. Irvel stayed close to Hank as they walked down the hallway and out into the parking lot. Anyone could struggle to recall where they left their car. But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything and neither did Hank. When they reached their blue Ford Escort, Hank stopped and turned to her. He took her purse and set it on the ground, then he drew her into his arms. In a voice almost too quiet to be heard, again and again, he said the same thing. “It’ll be okay. God has us, Irvel. It’ll be okay.”
Then he opened the door for her and when they were both inside, Irvel saw proof that Hank was only trying to convince himself. Her decorated World War II vet had tears streaming down his cheeks. He swiped at them with the back of his hand and smiled at her. “It’ll be okay.”
Irvel couldn’t bear to watch. She looked out the passenger window at the medical facility growing farther and farther away. What were they doing here, anyway? She squinted her eyebrows and focused. Really focused. They were at the doctor’s, that’s what. They had just finished getting her diagnosis.
An aggressive case of Alzheimer’s disease.
She leaned into the seat and watched the trees pass by, each of them decked in brilliant oranges and reds. Red. The last color. See, there? Irvel felt herself relax. The doctor was wrong. She could remember just fine. Not just small details like that one, but the bigger ones. The details that made up the story of her life. What about sixth grade? She opened her eyes again. Did she remember that year? The year she and Hank Myers became friends?
A myriad of vividly familiar sounds and smells and images filled her mind and she smiled. She could feel the soft grass beneath her white tennis shoes and hear the rushing creek that ran through that part of town. Young Hank was there beside her, most handsome boy she’d ever seen.
Yes, she definitely remembered. It was spring, 1931. She and Hank were twelve years old, and since he lived three doors down on the same street, the two of them walked home together. Every day. But that April afternoon, they took a different route. The one Irvel’s parents had warned her never to take, because it meant walking alongside the rushing creek.
“The earth could give way and you’d wind up in the water,” her mother had said. “Stay away from that path, Irvel.”
But the sky was blue and the sun warmed the afternoon. The maple trees were in full bloom. A little adventure seemed like a good idea, so instead of turning toward the sidewalk, she turned the other way, toward the sound of the water. “Come on.” She could feel the way her eyes sparkled. “Just once.”
Like always, Hank could no sooner say no to Irvel than he could stop breathing. He had grinned that day and found his place beside her.
“I saw Tommy Fuller talking to you at recess.” Hank picked up a stick and dragged it through the long grass as they walked. “The guys say he has a crush on you.”
“No.” Irvel felt her cheeks flush. She shaded her eyes against the brightness of the sun. “Tommy Fuller likes Betty Owens.”
“I don’t think so.” Hank cast her a look.
“It’s true.” Irvel looked long at Hank. His eyes were the most beautiful she had ever seen.
He didn’t give up. “Would you hate it? If Tommy Fuller liked you?”
“Yes.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’d hate it, Hank Myers. That’s all I’m going to say.”
She kept her word, the two of them too young to understand the crush that had developed between them that school year. So they switched to talking about the upcoming spelling test and the book they’d been assigned to read—Floating Island by Anne Parrish. “I like reading about a family of dolls.” Irvel lifted her face to the sun. “It’s adventurous.”
“I’d rather read about pirates.” Hank stuck out his chest. “I’d be one of the good ones.”
Irvel laughed, but she believed him. Hank was good at everything.
Ten minutes was all it took to get home along the sidewalks, but along the creek that day the walk took longer. In some areas, brush and trees had overtaken the earthen path, and they had to take careful steps around the branches to keep from falling in.
“This is why we aren’t supposed to do this.” Hank’s deep blue eyes didn’t look worried. “Be careful, okay?”
“I’m fine. The creek isn’t more than a stone’s throw across.” She laughed again. “It’s safe.”
Irvel had no sooner finished her response when the dirt beneath her right foot gave way. Before Hank could stop her, she dropped her bag, fell into the cold water and slipped beneath the white, choppy surface. She tried to scream, but the water was deep and the current faster than she could swim.
For a moment, Irvel wondered if she might die in the rushing creek, her last act one of utter disobedience to her parents. She poked her face above the water and grabbed as much air as she could. Her yellow and white sundress was pulling her down, and jagged rocks at the creek’s bottom cut hard against her legs.
Another breath, and another. Just when she wasn’t sure she could force herself above the water one more time, Hank was beside her. Panic screamed from his eyes, but his actions were calm and sure. He put his arm around her waist and swam her back to the creek’s edge. Then he helped her scramble up onto the grass.
For a long moment they lay there facing the sky, drenched and trembling, their hearts beating out of their chests. The shivering started then and Hank reached for his sweater a few feet away. He must’ve thrown it off before he jumped in after her because it was still dry. “Here.” He slipped it over her shoulders. “Come on. We need to get you home.”
When they were both on their feet, he searched her eyes. “You okay to walk?”
“I’m c-c-cold.” Her teeth were chattering. She could barely feel her hands and feet. “I’m s-s-sorry, Hank.”
“It isn’t your fault.” He picked up both their bags. “I shouldn’t have let you get so close to the edge.” He put his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“Th-th-thank you. For saving me.” She glanced up at him as they walked. His body was warmer than hers, and for the next few minutes, Irvel could hardly breathe. Not because she was cold and wet and terrified. But because Hank Myers was so close.
Long before they reached Irvel’s house, Hank stopped and turned to her again. He ran his fingers through his still wet hair. “You stopped shivering.”
“I’m… fine.” Warm rays of sunshine washed over them. “Because of you.” Irvel surveyed him, still drenched, water running from the cuffs of his pants. Their shoes were drenched, also. Another reality hit. “We’re going to be in big trouble.”
“No. It’ll be okay.” He started walking again and motioned for her to follow. “Come on.”
It’ll be okay. His words played in her mind again, and Irvel nodded. Yes, that was it. Five minutes later they headed up the sidewalk to Irvel’s house. Her mother met them halfway, eyes wide and panicked. “Where have you been?” She stopped short and looked Irvel and Hank up and down. “What happened? You’re drenched!”
Before Irvel could open her mouth, Hank was talking. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It was my fault. I asked Irvel to walk home along the creek because, well, you know it’s such a nice day and all.” He seemed to gulp back a breath. “I distracted her and she fell in the creek. But just for a moment and then I helped her out.”
Irvel and her mother both stood stone-still on the sidewalk, staring at Hank. Her mom spoke first. “This was your idea?”
Hank didn’t hesitate. “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and took a step back. “Again, I’m sorry. Truly.” He backed up, but before he turned around, he cast Irvel a quick smile.
Irvel’s mom missed it. She put her arm around Irvel’s shoulders. “Let’s get you inside.” Her mother led her into the house. “You need to warm up. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
Irvel kept the truth to herself. After being rescued by Hank, after walking halfway home with his arm around her shoulders, she wasn’t cold at all. And in the end, it wasn’t Irvel who got sick, it was Hank.
So sick he caught pneumonia and nearly died.
He missed two weeks of school, and lost ten pounds. The whole time Irvel felt terrible. Every night after she shut her bedroom door, she would drop to her knees and pray for Hank. And every time she heard Hank’s words again. It’ll be okay.
God must have heard Irvel’s constant prayers because Hank survived. When he returned to class, he was thinner and his pale skin didn’t have its usual glow. But he was whole and healthy and alive, and that day, Irvel couldn’t stop thanking God.
On the way home Hank’s first day back, they took the sidewalk. And there, while they walked, Irvel had the chance to say what she wanted to say. “I’m sorry, Hank. It was all my fault.”
“Nah, silly girl.” He grinned at her. “You didn’t force me to jump into that ol’ creek.”
“Yes, I did.” She stopped and turned to him. “I walked too close to the edge.”
“I’d jump in again every time.” He flipped his blond bangs and searched her eyes. “You know why? Because when we grow up, I’m going to marry you, Irvel Anne Holland. You wait and see.”
For a few seconds, neither of them looked away or blinked or breathed. But then at the same time they both tipped their heads back and laughed, the innocent laugh from the precipice between being a child and being old enough to fall in love. They kept walking, talking about something funny and letting the more serious conversation fade.
After all, being grown up was millions of minutes away.
Irvel blinked and the memory faded. Hank turned the car into the driveway of the home where they’d lived for forty years. As Hank parked, Irvel reached for his hand. “I remember, Hank. I still remember.”
He nodded. “I know.” He leaned close and kissed her cheek. Then he said the same thing he’d said after he pulled her from the creek that long-ago spring day. Before war or loss or heartbreak had anything to say about life. The same thing he’d said this morning at the doctor’s office. “It’ll be okay.”
And she loved Hank Myers for it.
In an era of supposed great equality, women are still falling behind in the workplace. Even with more women in the workforce than in decades past, wage gaps continue to increase. It is the most educated women who have fallen the furthest behind. Blue-collar women hold the most insecure and badly paid jobs in our economy. And even as we celebrate high-profile representation—women on the board of Fortune 500 companies and our first female vice president—women have limited recourse when they experience harassment and discrimination.
Fair Shake: Women and the Fight to Build a Just Economy explains that the system that governs our economy—a winner-take-all economy—is the root cause of these myriad problems. The WTA economy self-selects for aggressive, cutthroat business tactics, which creates a feedback loop that sidelines women. The authors, three legal scholars, call this feedback loop “the triple bind”: if women don’t compete on the same terms as men, they lose; if women do compete on the same terms as men, they’re punished more harshly for their sharp elbows or actual misdeeds; and when women see that they can’t win on the same terms as men, they take themselves out of the game (if they haven’t been pushed out already). With odds like these stacked against them, it’s no wonder women feel like, no matter how hard they work, they can’t get ahead.
Fair Shake is not a “fix the woman” book; it’s a “fix the system” book. It not only diagnoses the problem of what's wrong with the modern economy, but shows how, with awareness and collective action, we can build a truly just economy for all.]]>
—David Cay Johnston, Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter and bestselling author
“Fair Shakeexpertly defines and explains the corporate system I was so engrained in, and how it’s designed to hold women back. Naming and analyzing the structural problems in our workplaces today is the first step to improving them. This is a must-read for any working women today; I felt seen and heard and less alone in my experiences in Corporate America.”
—Jamie Fiore Higgins, author ofBully Market
“By sifting through legal cases of the past twenty-five years, Cahn, Carbone, and Levit have illuminated how extreme power concentration continues to hold women back in our economy. It’s a rousing indictment of a noxious winner-take-all system and an encouragement that collective action can create a more equitable economy, one which dignifies the work of the many and shares power for the betterment of all.”
—Julie Battilana and Tiziana Casciaro, authors ofPower, For All
“Robust evidence for the need for systemic change.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Fair Shake answers the enduring—and perplexing—question: ‘why are women struggling to advance in the American workplace?’ Authors Cahn, Carbone, and Levit have provided a set of three clear and undeniable answers. Rigorous, insightful, and ultimately hopeful, this is a must-read for every person who wants women to succeed.”
—Linda Babco*ck,professor of economics at Carnegie Mellon University and bestselling author ofThe No ClubandWomen Don't Ask
"This is expert legal story-telling at its best. Cahn, Carbone, and Levit brilliantly unpack how the winner takes all aspects of business undermines any real hope of women achieving equality.Fair Shakeburns at the soul as it reveals case after case of women being cheated in the workplace and too often denied justice inAmerican courts. This is a must read—I could not put the book down."
—Michele Bratcher Goodwin, Linda D. & Timothy J. O’Neill Professorof Constitutional Law and Global Health Policy, Georgetown Law School]]>
Part group biography, part cultural history, Strong Like Her delves into the fascinating stories of our muscular foremothers. From the first female Olympian (who entered the chariot race through a loophole) to the circus stars who could lift their husbands above their heads and make it look like “a little light housework with a feather duster,” these brave and brawny women paved the way for the generations to follow.
Filled with Sophy Holland’s beautiful portraits of some of today’s most awe-inspiring athletes, including Peloton instructor Robin Arzón, bodybuilder Dana Linn Bailey, actress/dancer Patina Miller, and many others, Strong Like Her is “a love letter to muscles and the women who rock them so gloriously” (Shape).]]>
Shelley is based in Chicago (when she’s not indulging her wanderlust). She’s living into her highest values of freedom, courage, and authenticity. And she’s obsessed with the color orange. Follow her on Instagram @Soulbbatical, on Facebook @SoulbbaticalCoaching, or on her website Soulbbatical.com.]]>
Former Harley-Davidson executive Shelley Paxton walked away at the peak of her twenty-six-year marketing career and embarked on a profoundly personal journey to reconnect with her true purpose and deepest desires. Her “Soulbbatical,” not only changed her life, it became her calling.
Paxton had a wildly successful life by most definitions—iconic brands, executive titles, and a globe-trotting career that took her to over sixty countries. She had one of the coolest jobs in the world yet couldn’t shake the feeling that she had lost something along the way. Something was missing.
In Soulbbatical, Shelley shares the sometimes harrowing, often hilarious journey through the illness, divorce, addiction, and tragedy that finally woke her up. Suddenly she was rebelling for her best life and embracing a new mission: to encourage others to live their most authentic, courageous, and purposeful lives—today.
This “honest, emotionally gut-wrenching, and ultimately soul-satisfying” (Kirkus Reviews) book is an unconventional, exhilarating, and deeply personal road map to discovering what you really want—and getting it. Because no matter how far you’ve strayed from your soul’s true path, it’s never too late for transformation.]]>
Shelley is based in Chicago (when she’s not indulging her wanderlust). She’s living into her highest values of freedom, courage, and authenticity. And she’s obsessed with the color orange. Follow her on Instagram @Soulbbatical, on Facebook @SoulbbaticalCoaching, or on her website Soulbbatical.com.]]>
1. GETTING WOKE (LITERALLY)
I knew I was in deep cosmic sh*t when the same nightmare ripped me from sleep, night after night, for nearly a year:
My spidey senses are raging. Something doesn’t feel right. My apartment doesn’t feel right. Actually, it doesn’t even feel like my apartment. It’s cold and dark in that terrifying something-really-awful-must’ve-happened-in-here kind of way. Even the signature visual pops of my favorite color, orange—the egg chair, the vintage vases, the abstract artwork on the walls in the living room—seem dull and lifeless, muted.
Am I in the Matrix? Is the Universe testing me again? Is this what it feels like right before you get murdered?
Where am I? I’m freaking the hell out.
I scan the space.
And then I see it, out of the corner of my eye, a hallway off the living room that I know doesn’t exist in my actual apartment. What the f*ck is going on? Someone must be messing with me. I’ve lived in this apartment for five years! I know every nook and cranny of its barely-pushing-twelve-hundred-square-feet.
My head is screaming, Oh, hell no! as my body is lured down the strange new passageway until I’m stopped in front of a doorway. A doorway I’ve never seen before, at the end of a hallway I’ve never seen before. My right hand makes slippery contact with the brass door handle. I don’t even know how it got there. Everything feels out of my control. I’m miles outside of my comfort zone, wishing I still had a view of the front door, my only escape route.
Am I dreaming or awake? Did I slip into some other dimension or B-grade horror flick? God, I’ve always hated horror movies.
The door opens to reveal an empty bedroom. At least I think it’s a bedroom. Of course, I’ve never seen it before. (This is getting really old, really quickly.) The creak of the door reverberates in an echo chamber of wood flooring and stark walls. I grope the closest wall in search of a light switch. Nothing. My eyes are barely able to make out the vast emptiness of the space: no furniture, no décor, and no windows. A deep chill is shooting down my spine, my lizard brain’s SOS.
I’m desperate to turn back, but my gaze is suddenly pulled to a thin sliver of hazy yellow light across the room, faintly illuminating a short section of floorboard. Another door? Another room? I force myself toward the light, my legs like lead.
Twelve steps. Zero breaths. Shaking, I stare at the outline of a small utility closet I’ve never seen before. A dim light bulb glows from the ceiling. So, who left the light on? Through the surrealism of it all, I hear my mom’s voice in my head lecturing me about wasted electricity. I’m startled by something beyond the sound of my own thoughts. It’s barely audible. I hold my breath and listen again. Oh my God, labored breathing and the faintest whimper. I rip open the door and come face-to-face with a neglected, malnourished, near-death dog.
Not just any dog—my dog.
Moka, my precious blind pug, who had been my fur baby and guardian angel for nine extraordinary years. The gentle fawn soul, wrapped in generous layers of wrinkles and rolls, who had dutifully licked the tears of illness and divorce from my cheeks, was splayed out on the floor of this closet, draped in a loose cloak of patchy skin, barely able to lift his head.
But, wait, how can this be? Moka died six years ago. I’d been there, holding his swaddled and lifeless body, sobbing on the floor of the vet’s office. Wishing we could have had more time together. Or was that the nightmare and this is real? Has he actually been alive this entire time? Was I too busy to notice or remember? Did I forget about him and leave him to die alone in a closet?
It’s all a messy blur.
And then I’m screaming, crying, collapsing, reaching out to cradle Moka’s skeletal form. I’m whispering into his little black velvet ears how much I love him, promising over and over and over again to stay with him. Feed him. Nurse him back to life. Never leave him again.
I’m so sorry, baby …
I’m so sorry …
I’m so …
And that’s where it ended, every single time. I would bolt up in bed, drenched with sweat and tears, struggling to make sense of this tragedy burrowing its way into my subconscious four or five nights a week.
I’d go to bed terrified and wake up feeling crucified. I’d spend my waking hours exhausted and heartbroken and questioning reality. I worked hard to keep the armor polished and intact at work, while being scared sh*tless to open closet doors or close my eyes at home. Petrified of discovering that I really was a careless monster, that my worst nightmare was my cruelest reality.
The details of the nightmare became tattooed on my brain with the ink of pain and needle of repetition. The location of the unknown hallway and doors sometimes varied, but a strange force always propelled me to bear witness to the same crippling end, no matter how hard I tried to resist it. No matter how much wine I drank to incapacitate it.
This went on for my entire final year at Harley-Davidson. (Yep, you read that right.) This wasn’t a quickly passing phase that six-year-old impressionable me went through after watching my first horror flick behind my parents’ backs. This was a forty-six-year-old badass career woman being held hostage by a nightmare and the overwhelming shame it caused.
You know those moments in life when you (wrongly) think no one could possibly understand what you’re going through, and if you dare say it out loud everyone will think you’re one-flew-over-the-cuckoo’s-nest crazy? This was one of those for me.
I should admit here that I did break down and confess this to my sister, Christy, over the phone after a few months, while I was racing to the bottom of another bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc after work, trying to numb the ache of endless meetings, politics, and reorganizations. (I’m guessing this may sound familiar to you, my friend.)
My sister’s call caught me armor down, in a messy heap on the floor, wondering aloud how this could be the “life at the top” of which so many people dream. Worrying about losing my own health and sanity, and for what? I spilled the story of the nightmare as proof that I was losing my goddamn mind. In vino veritas, baby. I swore her to the same bond of secrecy that protected the truth about how my car really ended up in a lake when I was sixteen.
After that conversation, I started journaling everything I could remember about the nightmare each time it robbed me of precious sleep. I was desperate to crack the code and move on with my life already. Hey, I’m a master problem solver—it’s what I get paid ridiculous sums of money to do all day; how hard can this be? my stubborn head would say to my weary heart at 2:00 A.M.
It was like being forced to watch the same movie again and again—until I finally accepted that pain is a holy messenger. It’s going to gut punch you over and over again—through illness, tragedy, nightmares, you name it—until you finally listen.
Anyone else had to learn that one the hard way?
A couple of months later, I found myself starting to practice simple meditation in an effort to combat work stress and Dr. Bob’s diagnosis of “monkey brain.” Dr. Bob, perpetually clad in a bow tie, tortoiseshell glasses, and jovial mood, was in charge of the executive physical plan to which Harley-Davidson sent its senior leaders for a half-day comprehensive checkup each year. It was a highly respected and well-intentioned program that, ironically, helped us all better understand the myriad ways our jobs (and Wisconsin cheese curds) might be killing us. In my case, almost twenty pounds packed on in the first three years, a grossly-underreported-yet-still-red-flag-worthy wine habit, and a brain perpetually stuck in sixth gear. At Dr. Bob’s suggestion, I read Breakfast with Buddha and committed to twenty minutes of meditation every morning before jumping into a relentless twelve- to fourteen-hour workday. Not exactly getting to the root of the problem. But, baby steps.
One particular morning, I was counting my breaths, allowing thoughts to pass like clouds in the sky, releasing any control or judgment or attachment. Occasionally, my as-yet-unenlightened mind would get distracted by images of Andy, the sexy British voice guiding me on the Headspace meditation app. (Please tell me I’m not the only one!) So, the usual drill. Until I became aware of a new and repeating pattern of thoughts:
Acknowledge me. Listen to me. Nurture me. Love me.
I noticed them and let them pass, as I was taught. But they reappeared, in a hypnotic and rhythmic pattern that I began to chant aloud like a powerful mantra:
“Acknowledge me. Listen to me. Nurture me. Love me.
“Acknowledge me. Listen to me. Nurture me. Love me.”
You know that feeling when you just can’t shake the significance of something? That twinge in your gut that says, “Listen up, this sh*t is important!” even though it makes about as much sense to you as ancient hieroglyphics in the moment? That’s exactly how it felt. So, I sat for another half hour in complete stillness, perhaps for the first time ever, silently asking the Universe for a little translation assistance.
She delivered, in her own inimitable way. The memory still gives me goose bumps.
On the backs of my shuttered eyelids, I saw an adorable image of a healthy Moka running free in his favorite neighborhood dog park. As quickly as I felt tears of happy relief welling up, the image of Moka dissolved into a more joyful and carefree me—at eleven years old. Me with my sister, in the unfinished basem*nt of our family home on Bass Lake, roller-skating with reckless abandon to the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” and Olivia Newton-John’s “Xanadu” on vinyl. The me that played more, laughed more, imagined more, sang more, danced more, loved more, followed her spirit more—and worried a hell of a lot less.
H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T.
This was me before my personality overrode my soul; before I got separated from who I really am and so cleverly donned the rebel alter ego to ward off my deep-seated fears of being disliked, unworthy, or simply a failure. It was the me before I made a career out of looking like I had it all together on the outside while struggle and strife consumed me on the inside. Me before I started should-ing all over myself with the hopes, dreams, and expectations of my parents, employers, society, and men. All the things that had me flexing my identity like a professional contortionist.
It was like a two-by-four to the solar plexus—Moka was my soul.
This whole time, I’d been turning a blind eye to my own neglect of myself, and the Universe was showing me this in the form of the little creature I’d loved most of all. My soul was crying out for me to get back in alignment with me; back in relationship with my soul—and to trust it to guide me toward purpose and fulfillment, toward ease and grace. So long as I acknowledged it, listened to it, nurtured it, and loved it. Unconditionally.
Loving my soul is loving myself. The room inside the room in the nightmare was painful proof of how closed off my way of being had become; of how many layers of armor I’d unwittingly created in an effort to cope; of how distant and disconnected I’d become from my true self.
I sat there for a while, stunned. Trying to make sense of a dizzying array of questions that felt terrifying and out of my depth and like the most important work I had to do in this lifetime:
Have I already sold my soul to the devil? If so, is there a buyback program?
How do I go about reconnecting with my soul? Is it like writing a letter to a childhood friend with whom I’ve lost touch, and apologizing for being a complete and utter asshole these past few decades?
If my soul hasn’t written me out of her will already, how do I go about nurturing her? What does that even look like? What does she need?
Does listening to her mean I have to do what she says? What if she tells me to quit my job and follow my dreams?
Can I be successful and aligned with my authentic self? Are those things mutually exclusive?
Who the hell am I if not the bold, irreverent corporate executive who constantly flipped the bird to tradition?
I knew I couldn’t process this all on my own. I needed support. It was time to call on two of my lifelines—my financial advisor and my executive coach. Both already knew I was questioning my future; the restlessness had been increasing for a few years, but I hadn’t yet shared the depth and urgency of my struggle. Perhaps I was afraid that if I spoke the truth out loud I would actually have to do something about it. I’d have to be willing to get out of my own way and make significant changes. The kind of changes that require the trust of a trapeze artist as she releases one swing and awaits the next, gracefully suspended in midair.
Dominick, my brilliant but verbose financial advisor, responded with uncharacteristic brevity: “I’ve been waiting for this call. I didn’t think you’d make it past two years at Harley.” Phone drop. His instincts were always sharp—in fact, they had helped me to establish what we lovingly (and frankly) referred to as my “f*ck You Fund,” a special investment account set up shortly after my eight-and-a-half-year marriage came to a brutal and financially devastating end. It was intended as both a present-tense f*ck You to my ex-husband and a future-tense f*ck You to anything less than total fulfillment in my life.
According to Dominick, my f*ck You Fund was in great shape, after nearly six years of post-recession growth and careful cultivation. I was in no way financially independent, nor was I even close to retirement potential, but I had a little runway to play with if I was willing to bet on, and invest in, the possibility of my future self. If I was courageous enough to step off the corporate Tilt-A-Whirl in order to get serious about understanding my soul and its deepest desires. I just had to get clear on my priorities (and stop buying expensive shoes with red soles).
At the same time, my coach, Victoria, was supporting me in a radical mind-set shift. She understood the profound calling of the nightmare. Despite being funded by Harley, she was dedicated to objectively guiding me through the challenging work of defining what I really wanted my daily life to be like; who I wanted to be in the world; and what values and boundaries I was no longer willing to sacrifice. I bawled my eyes out in nearly every session. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, yet I found perverse comfort in dancing with the leather-clad devil I knew. As much as I dreamt of freedom, I was terrified of being on my own, without the safety net of a big company for the first time. I was the so-called rebel afraid of making the ultimate rebel move. Go figure.
But it was time to reckon with those fears being kicked up like blinding clouds of dust in the wake of the nightmare or the Universe was going to continue to hold me hostage night after sleepless night. As Anaïs Nin wrote way more eloquently than I ever could, “the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” I walked out of the corporate world and into my Soulbbatical six months later. And never had the neglect nightmare again. This is the story of risking to blossom.
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An illuminating and “wholly refreshing” (David Maraniss, New York Times bestselling author) biography of the young Jackie Bouvier Kennedy that covers her formative adventures abroad in Paris; her life as a writer and photographer in Washington, DC; and her romance with a dashing, charismatic Massachusetts congressman who shared her intellectual passion.
Camera Girl “shines with wit and intelligence” (Library Journal, starred review) as it brings to life Jackie’s years as a young, single woman trying to figure out who she wanted to become. Chafing at the expectations of her family and the societal limitations placed on women in that era, Jackie pursued her dream career as a writer. Set primarily during the years of 1949 to 1953, when Jackie was in her early twenties, the book recounts in heretofore unrevealed detail the story of her late college years and her early adulthood as a working woman.
Before she met John F. Kennedy, Jacqueline Bouvier was the Washington Times-Herald’s “Inquiring Camera Girl,” posing compelling questions to members of the public on the streets of DC and snapping their photos with her unwieldy Graflex camera. She then fashioned the results into a daily column, of which six hundred were published.
Carl Sferrazza Anthony, a historian and leading expert on First Ladies, draws on these columns and previously unseen archives of Jackie’s writings from this time, along with insights gleaned from interviews he conducted with her friends, colleagues, and family members. Camera Girl offers a fresh perspective on the woman later known as Jacqueline Kennedy and Jackie O, introducing us to the headstrong, self-assured young woman who went on to be one of the world’s most famous people. “For anyone of any age, the Jackie in Camera Girl offers an example of intentional living” (Hillary Rodham Clinton).]]>
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—Secretary Hillary Rodham Clinton,#1New York Timesbestselling author ofWhat Happened
“Carl Anthony has found a wholly refreshing way to look at one of the most gazed upon women in American history, while also revealing how essential Jackie Bouvier was to Jack Kennedy's intellectual and political development.Camera Girlis as delightful as it is insightful.”
—David Maraniss,New York Timesbestselling author ofBarack Obama: The Story
“In this charming portrait, Carl Anthony traces the genesis of Jacqueline Kennedy's mesmerizing personality. Behind her privileged upbringing, Jackie coped with a dysfunctional family and cultivated an independent spirit as well as a questing intellect. In Anthony's telling, her determination to make her way on her own terms foreshadowed her groundbreaking role as First Lady.”
—Sally Bedell Smith,New York Timesbestselling author ofGrace and Power: The Private World of the Kennedy White House
“A lively depiction of a young woman who relished every opportunity to regard the world from her own perspective.”
—The New Yorker,Best Books of 2023
"Whether she’s avoiding a traffic ticket after speeding in her car named Zelda, or translating books for Kennedy’s report on the history of France in Indochina, this portrait of young Jackie Bouvier shines with wit and intelligence."
—Library Journal,starred review
“Camera Girloffers one of the most detailed, nuanced portraits of Jackie to date."
—The Washington Post
“A convincing and colorful reconsideration of a first lady known more for her style than her substance . . . [Anthony] sheds intriguing light on Jackie’s stint as a columnist for the Washington Times-Herald, the engagement she called off prior to marrying JFK, and her volatile and occasionally violent relationship with her mother.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The Jacqueline Bouvier whom Carl Anthony brings to life in these deeply researched pages is a revelation. She is defiant, curious, independent—and a rule-breaker determined to chart a course that would make history take notice.”
—Karen Tumulty,author ofThe Triumph of Nancy Reagan
“Anthony uncovers the root of Jackie’s distinctive blend of rebelliousness and vulnerability, independence and insecurity that would attract and confound supporters and critics alike. By drawing on extensive interviews with Jackie’s contemporaries and family, oral histories, and presidential archives, Anthony delivers a well-rounded depiction of this eternally fascinating, covertly complicated, and perennially misunderstood historical and cultural icon.”
—Booklist
“What shaped Jackie Kennedy Onassis to become one of the most influential women of the 20th century? In this lively, dishy account, author Carl Anthony traces four formative years when she was Jacqueline Bouvier, negotiating her way into adulthood with a determination and an independence that belied the reserved mien she showed to the world. ‘Become distinct,’ she told herself. And so she did.”
—Susan Page,New York Timesbestselling author ofThe Matriarch: Barbara Bush and the Making of an American Dynasty
"Prior to her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jacqueline Bouvier was an ambitious journalist and photographer, a remarkable period of her life captured in this engaging coming-of-age biography . . . Drawing on Bouvier’s letters and interviews, Anthony pulls together a compelling portrait of a young woman facing both the problems of her time and timeless issues. Should she focus on her career or getting married? How can she be respectful to her problematic parents while still declaring her own adult independence? A well-crafted biography that could easily spawn both a delightful TV drama or a historical look at female journalists."
—Kirkus,starred review
"The preponderance of what Mr. Anthony shares with us is new information — carefully researched and clearly presented — outside of the 'Jackie canon.' The 16 pages of well-captioned photos are a valuable supplement to the text."
—The East Hampton Star
"This is not a book about Jacqueline. It’s about Jackie, the young girl and woman who yearned to be a journalist, writer, illustrator and photographer before she met the man that made her world famous. ... It’s a fascinating look inside not only who she was, but who she became."
—Fredericksburg Free Lance Star]]>
Not so long ago, we embraced social media as a life-changing opportunity to connect with friends and family all across the globe. Today, the pendulum of public opinion is swinging in the opposite direction as Facebook, Twitter, Google, YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, and similar sites are being accused of corrupting our democracy, spreading disinformation, and fanning the flames of hatred. We once marveled at the revolutionary convenience of ordering items online and having them show up on our doorsteps overnight. Now we fret about Amazon outsourcing our jobs overseas or building robots to do them for us.
With insightful analysis and in-depth research, Robby Soave offers “a refreshing dose of sanity and common sense about big tech” (David French, author of Divided We Fall) and explores some of the biggest issues animating both the right and the left: bias, censorship, disinformation, privacy, screen addiction, crime, and more. Far from polemical, Tech Panic is grounded in interviews with insiders at companies like Facebook and Twitter, as well as expert analysis by both tech boosters and skeptics—from Mark Zuckerberg to Josh Hawley. You will learn not just about the consequences of Big Tech, but also the consequences of altering the ecosystem that allowed tech to get big. Offering a fresh and crucial perspective on one of the biggest influences of the 21st century, Soave seeks to stand athwart history and yell, Wait, are we sure we really want to do this?]]>
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Even if you’ve never watched a minute of professional wrestling, you are living in Vince McMahon’s world.
In his four decades as the defining figure of American pro wrestling, McMahon was the man behind Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, John Cena, Dave Bautista, Bret “The Hitman” Hart, and Hulk Hogan, to name just a few of the mega-stars who owe him their careers. For more than twenty-five years, he has also been a performer in his own show, acting as the diabolical “Mr. McMahon”—a figure who may have more in common with the real Vince than he would care to admit.
Just as importantly, McMahon is one of Donald Trump’s closest friends—and Trump’s experiences as a performer in McMahon’s programming were, in many ways, a dress rehearsal for the 45th President’s campaigns and presidency. McMahon and his wife, Linda, are major Republican donors. Linda was in Trump’s cabinet. McMahon makes deals with the Saudi government worth hundreds of millions of dollars. And for generations of people who have watched wrestling, he has been a defining cultural force and has helped foment “the worst of contemporary politics” (Kirkus Reviews).
Ringmaster built on exclusive interviews with more than 150 people, from McMahon’s childhood friends to those who accuse him of destroying their lives. “Smart, entertaining, impressively reported, and beautifully written. Wrestling fans will devour it, but everyone who wants to better understand this crazy country and one of its truly original characters ought to read it” (Jonathan Eig, author of Ali: A Life).]]>
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—Publishers Weekly, Starred review]]>
In the tradition of Random Family and Evicted, a gripping blend of rigorous, intimate on-the-ground reporting and deep social history of reproductive health that follows three first-time mothers as they experience pregnancy and childbirth in today’s America.
Journalist Rebecca Grant provides us with a never-before-seen look at the changing landscape of pregnancy and childbirth in America—and the rise of midwifery—told through the eyes of three women who all pass through the doors of the same birth center in Portland, Oregon.
There’s Alison, a teacher whose long path to a healthy pregnancy has led her to question a traditional hospital birth; T’Nika, herself born with the help of a midwife and now a nurse hoping to work in Labor & Delivery and improve equality in healthcare; and Jillian, an office manager and aspiring midwife who works at Andaluz Birth Center, excited for a new beginning, but anxious about how bringing a new life into the world might mean the deferral of her own dreams.
In remarkable detail and with great compassion, Grant recounts the ups downs, fears, joys, and everyday moments of each woman’s pregnancy and postpartum journey, offering a rare look into their inner lives, perspectives, and choices in real time—and addresses larger issues facing the entire nation, from discrimination in medicine and treatment (both gender and race-based) to fertility, family planning, complicated feelings about motherhood and career, and the stigmas of miscarriage and postpartum blues. “An enlightening and accessible portrait of maternal healthcare in America" (Publishers Weekly, starred) Birth is an inspiring look at one of life’s most profound rites of passage.]]>
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A BEST BOOK PICK BY * HARPER’S BAZAAR * ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
“The Charm Offensive will sweep you off your feet.” —PopSugar
In this witty and heartwarming romantic comedy—reminiscent of Red, White & Royal Blue and One to Watch—an awkward tech wunderkind on a reality dating show goes off-script when sparks fly with his producer.
Dev Deshpande has always believed in fairy tales. So it’s no wonder then that he’s spent his career crafting them on the long-running reality dating show Ever After. As the most successful producer in the franchise’s history, Dev always scripts the perfect love story for his contestants, even as his own love life crashes and burns. But then the show casts disgraced tech wunderkind Charlie Winshaw as its star.
Charlie is far from the romantic Prince Charming Ever After expects. He doesn’t believe in true love, and only agreed to the show as a last-ditch effort to rehabilitate his image. In front of the cameras, he’s a stiff, anxious mess with no idea how to date twenty women on national television. Behind the scenes, he’s cold, awkward, and emotionally closed-off.
As Dev fights to get Charlie to connect with the contestants on a whirlwind, worldwide tour, they begin to open up to each other, and Charlie realizes he has better chemistry with Dev than with any of his female co-stars. But even reality TV has a script, and in order to find to happily ever after, they’ll have to reconsider whose love story gets told.]]>
Story notes for editors:
Season 37, Episode 1
Story producer:
Dev Deshpande
Air date:
Monday, September 13, 2021
Executive producer:
Maureen Scott
Scene: Opening montage of contestant confessionals about Charles Winshaw
Location: Shot pre-carriage exits at the Beverly Hilton’s ballroom
Lauren L., 25, Dallas, professional cat cuddler: When I heard Charles Winshaw was going to be the next Ever After prince, I knew I had to audition to be a contestant. He is literally everything I’ve been looking for in a man. I mean, he’s strong, but you can tell he’s also sensitive.
Megan, 24, Tampa, spray-tan technician: Why did I come on this show? I’ll give you eight reasons, and all of them are Charles Winshaw’s abs.
Delilah, 26, Los Angeles, software engineer: Charles Winshaw is a legend in the tech world. This will be like dating the Michael Jordan of app design. You know, if Michael Jordan were notoriously private and mysterious. My friends are going to be so jealous.
Lauren S., 23, Little Rock, former student: I’ve had my heart broken in the past, but I’m older and wiser now. I’m ready to find love again. I’m ready to be a wife. I’m ready to be a mom.
Whitney, 31, Kansas City, pediatric nurse: Did I think I’d already be married at thirty-one? I mean, yeah. But it’s given me extra time to get to know myself. I’ve spent years taking care of sick babies. Now I’m ready to take care of a man.
Sabrina, 27, Seattle, travel blogger: My life is pretty rad, honestly. I’m just looking for a partner to make it even radder.
Daphne, 25, Atlanta, social worker: Why did I come on this show? Gosh, um, you know, the same reason as everyone else. I’m here for love—the kind of love you see in movies and hear about in songs. Love that changes you, love that conquers all. Everyone talks about that kind of love, so it must be real, right?
Maureen’s note to editors: Please create the bio chyron for each contestant based on the provided details.]]>
—Hannah Orenstein, author of Head Over Heels]]>
The theory that Shakespeare may not have written the works that bear his name is the most horrible, unspeakable subject in the history of English literature. Scholars admit that the Bard’s biography is a “black hole,” yet to publicly question the identity of the god of English literature is unacceptable, even (some say) “immoral.”
In Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies, journalist and literary critic Elizabeth Winkler sets out to probe the origins of this literary taboo. Whisking you from London to Stratford-Upon-Avon to Washington, DC, she pulls back the curtain to show how the forces of nationalism and empire, religion and mythmaking, gender and class have shaped our admiration for Shakespeare across the centuries. As she considers the writers and thinkers—from Walt Whitman to Sigmund Freud to Supreme Court justices—who have grappled with the riddle of the plays’ origins, she explores who may perhaps have been hiding behind his name. A forgotten woman? A disgraced aristocrat? A government spy? Hovering over the mystery are Shakespeare’s plays themselves, with their love for mistaken identities, disguises, and things never quite being what they seem.
As she interviews scholars and skeptics, Winkler’s interest turns to the larger problem of historical truth—and of how human imperfections (bias, blindness, subjectivity) shape our construction of the past. History is a story, and the story we find may depend on the story we’re looking for.
“Lively” (The Washington Post), “fascinating” (Amanda Foreman), and “intrepid” (Stacy Schiff), Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies will forever change how you think of Shakespeare…and of how we as a society decide what’s up for debate and what’s just nonsense, just heresy.]]>
In England in the summer of 1964, an unusual case came before the courts. It involved a squabble over the will of Miss Evelyn May Hopkins and the authorship of the works of William Shakespeare. Miss Hopkins had died, leaving a third of her inheritance to the Francis Bacon Society for the purpose of finding the original manuscripts of Shakespeare’s plays. She referred to them as the “Bacon-Shakespeare manuscripts,” believing the true author of the works to have been Francis Bacon, the Elizabethan philosopher and statesman. The aim of finding the manuscripts was to prove that Bacon was, in fact, the author of the works attributed to Shakespeare. Her heirs were not pleased. Naturally, they preferred that the money go to themselves. Seeking to reclaim their inheritance, the heirs brought a suit against the society, arguing that Miss Hopkins’s provision should be set aside on the grounds that the search would be a “wild goose chase.” To support their case, they solicited the testimony of scholarly experts. The Right Honorable Richard Wilberforce, a justice of Her Majesty’s High Court, presided.
Counsel for the next of kin “described it as a wild goose chase; but wild geese can, with good fortune, be apprehended,” observed the justice. Many discoveries are unlikely until they are made, he pointed out: “one may think of the Codex Sinaiticus, or the Tomb of Tutankhamen, or the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Wilberforce was a stolid Englishman, a former classics scholar at Oxford University who rose through Britain’s legal ranks to become a senior Law Lord in the House of Lords and a member of the Queen’s Privy Council. Having reviewed the evidence submitted to the court, he summarized it as follows:
“The orthodox opinion, which at the present time is unanimous, or nearly so, among scholars and experts in sixteenth and seventeenth century literature and history, is that the plays were written by William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon, actor.” However, Justice Wilberforce continued, “The evidence in favour of Shakespeare’s authorship is quantitatively slight. It rests positively, in the main, on the explicit statements in the First Folio of 1623, and on continuous tradition; negatively on the lack of any challenge to this ascription at the time” of the First Folio’s publication. Furthermore, the justice found, “There are a number of difficulties in the way of the traditional ascription… a number of known facts which are difficult to reconcile…. [S]o far from these difficulties tending to diminish with time, the intensive search of the nineteenth century has widened the evidentiary gulf between William Shakespeare the man, and the author of the plays.”
The justice went on to consider the testimony of the scholarly experts. Kenneth Muir, King Alfred Professor of English literature at the University of Liverpool, supported the plaintiffs, Miss Hopkins’s aggrieved heirs. He considered it “certain” that Bacon could not have written the works of Shakespeare. Hugh Trevor-Roper, Regius Professor of Modern History at the University of Oxford, departed slightly from his English literature colleagues, taking what the justice deemed “a more cautious line.” Though Professor Trevor-Roper “definitely does not believe that the works of ‘Shakespeare’ could have been written by Francis Bacon, he also considers that the case for Shakespeare rests on a narrow balance of evidence and that new material could upset it; that though almost all professional scholars accept ‘Shakespeare’s’ authorship, a settled scholarly tradition can inhibit free thought, that heretics are not necessarily wrong. His conclusion is that the question of authorship cannot be considered as closed.”
Justice Wilberforce agreed. The question was not closed. The evidence for Shakespeare was too slim, the problems too many. The scholars might be wrong. Even if Francis Bacon was unlikely, new material might show someone other than Shakespeare to have been the author. Whoever wrote them, the manuscripts of Shakespeare’s plays had never been found. Their discovery would be “of the highest value to history and to literature,” Wilberforce proclaimed. Indeed, he added, to the consternation of the plaintiffs and the Shakespeare scholars, “the revelation of a manuscript would contribute, probably decisively, to a solution to the authorship problem, and this alone is benefit enough.”
Miss Hopkins’s bequest to the Francis Bacon Society was upheld.
—André Aciman, PhD,New York Times bestselling author of Call Me by Your Name]]>
—The Guardian]]>
—Lewis Lapham, founder of Lapham’s Quarterly]]>
—The Wall Street Journal]]>
—Michael Dirda,The Washington Post]]>
—Bessel van der Kolk, MD,New York Times bestselling author of The Body Keeps Score]]>
—Stacy Schiff, Pulitzer Prize-winning author ofThe Revolutionary]]>
—Winnipeg Free Press]]>
—Karen Joy Fowler, New York Times bestselling author of Booth]]>
—Amanda Foreman, PhD, internationally bestselling author of Georgiana]]>
The world’s skyscrapers have brought us awe and wonder, and yet they remain controversial—for their high costs, shadows, and overt grandiosity. But, decade by decade, they keep getting higher and higher. What is driving this global building spree of epic proportions? In Cities in the Sky, author Jason Barr explains all: why they appeal to cities and nations, how they get financed, why they succeed economically, and how they change a city’s skyline and enable the world’s greatest metropolises to thrive in the 21st century.
From the Empire State Building (1,250 feet) to the Shanghai Tower (2,073 feet) and everywhere in between, Barr explains the unique architectural and engineering efforts that led to the creation of each. Along the way, Barr visits and unpacks some surprising myths about the earliest skyscrapers and the growth of American skylines after World War II, which incorporated a new suite of technologies that spread to the rest of the world in the 1990s. Barr also explores why London banned skyscrapers at the end of the 19th century but then embraced them in the 21st and explains how Hong Kong created the densest cluster of skyscrapers on the planet. Also covered is the dramatic result of China’s “skyscraper fever” and then on to the Arabian Peninsula to see what drove Dubai to build the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, which at 2,717 feet, is higher than the new One World Trade Center in New York by three football fields.
Filled with fascinating details for urbanists, architecture buffs, and urban design enthusiasts alike, Cities in the Sky addresses the good, bad, and ugly for cities that have embraced vertical skylines and offers us a glimpse to the future to see whether cities around the world will continue their journey ever upwards.]]>
Growing up, Jena Friedman didn’t care about being likable. And she never wanted to be a comedian, either. She wouldn’t discover her knack for the funny business until research for her college thesis led her to take an improv class in Chicago.
That anthropology paper, written on race, class, and gender in the city’s comedy scene, was, in Jena’s own words, “just as funny as it sounds.” But it did lay the groundwork for a career that has seen her write and produce for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, the Late Show with David Letterman, and the Oscar-nominated Borat Subsequent Moviefilm.
Friedman’s “entertaining and soulful” (Publishers Weekly) debut collection, Not Funny, takes on the third rails of modern life in Jena’s bold and subversive style, with essays that explore cancel culture, sexism, work, celebrity worship, and…dead baby jokes.
In a moment where women’s rights are being rolled back, fascism is on the rise, and so many of us could use a breather as we struggle to get by, Jena applies her unique gifts to pull a laugh from things deemed too raw, too precious, and too scary to joke about. She deftly dissects how we get coerced into silence on the issues that matter most, until they’ve gone too far afield to be turned back around again. “A mix of lethal deadpan delivery and biting sarcasm with impressive intelligence not only makes this book phenomenal but announces the arrival of a singular voice” (Phoebe Robinson, New York Times bestselling author).]]>
—Cosmopolitan]]>
—Atsuko Okatsuka, comedian, actress, and writer]]>
—Booklist]]>
—Publishers Weekly]]>
—Shelf Awareness]]>
—Kirkus
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—Library Journal]]>
April recommended reading by the New York Times Book Review, Vanity Fair, Goodreads, Jezebel, Christian Science Monitor, All Arts, and the Next Big Idea Club
One of Curbed’s and Globe and Mail’s (Toronto) best books of the spring
A most anticipated book of 2023 by The Millions
Katy Kelleher has spent much of her life chasing beauty. As a child, she uprooted handfuls of purple, fragrant little flowers from the earth, plucked iridescent seashells from the beach, and dug for turquoise stones in her backyard. As a teenager she applied glittery shimmer to her eyelids after religiously dabbing on her signature scent of orange blossoms and jasmine. And as an adult, she coveted gleaming marble countertops and delicate porcelain to beautify her home. This obsession with beauty led her to become a home, garden, and design writer, where she studied how beautiful things are mined, grown, made, and enhanced. In researching these objects, Kelleher concluded that most of us are blind to the true cost of our desires. Because whenever you find something unbearably beautiful, look closer, and you’ll inevitably find a shadow of decay lurking underneath.
In these dazzling and deeply researched essays, Katy Kelleher blends science, history, and memoir to uncover the dark underbellies of our favorite goods. She reveals the crushed beetle shells in our lipstick, the musk of rodents in our perfume, and the burnt cow bones baked into our dishware. She untangles the secret history of silk and muses on her problematic prom dress. She tells the story of countless workers dying in their efforts to bring us shiny rocks from unsafe mines that shatter and wound the earth, all because a diamond company created a compelling ad. She examines the enduring appeal of the beautiful dead girl and the sad fate of the ugly mollusk. With prose as stunning as the objects she describes, Kelleher invites readers to examine their own relationships with the beautiful objects that adorn their body and grace their homes.
And yet, Kelleher argues that while we have a moral imperative to understand our relationship to desire, we are not evil or weak for desiring beauty. The Ugly History of Beautiful Things opens our eyes to beauty that surrounds us, helps us understand how that beauty came to be, what price was paid and by whom, and how we can most ethically partake in the beauty of the world.]]>
“A lovely book. Kelleher's voice is curious and full of insight into the often dark histories of the things we call beautiful. By the end of this book, you'll want to go pick some flowers and listen to the ocean out of a conch shell, empowered by the knowledge of where that desire comes from.” —Rax King,Author of Tacky and co-host of the podcast Low Culture Boil
"Fascinating and richly researched. You'll never smell a rose or stroke a silk blouse quite the same way again – even if, like Kelleher, you can’t stop loving them." —Alexandra Lange, author of Meet Me Bythe Fountain
"Katy Kelleher'sThe Ugly History of Beautiful Thingsis an astonishingaccomplishment--for its insight, its honesty, and itswillingness to ask difficultquestions and probe the darkest corners of humannature for the answers. Without judgment or preciousness, Kelleher takes us on a journey into the complexity, power, necessity, and aliveness of beauty. This book's strengths are many, but above all, it is Kelleher's restless, thrilling curiosity itself--which she turns inward as much as outward--that will stay with readers long after they turn the last page."—Chloé Cooper Jones, author ofEasy Beauty
“Fascinating, compelling, and at times unnerving–Kelleher's deep dive into the nature of beauty and the material reality that lurks beneath its surface lingers in your mind long after you've put it down.”—Colin Dickey, author of Ghostland
“Kelleher has always been obsessed with beauty, and this poetic book is a careful study of its ambiguity and meaning.”—Kirkus Reviews
"Kelleher’s engrossing essays cogently explore the unsettling dichotomy between the precious and the problematic, the seedy and the sublime to vividly reveal the pleasures and perils in pursuit of ideal beauty.—Booklist (starred review)
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From the authors of the #1 New York Times bestseller Mrs. Kennedy and Me comes another New York Times bestseller, which reveals never-before-told stories of Secret Service Agent Clint Hill’s travels with Jacqueline Kennedy through Europe, Asia, and South America. Featuring more than two hundred rare and never-before-published photographs.
While preparing to sell his home in Alexandria, Virginia, retired Secret Service agent Clint Hill uncovers an old steamer trunk in the garage, triggering a floodgate of memories. As he and Lisa McCubbin, his coauthor on three previous books, pry it open for the first time in fifty years, they find forgotten photos, handwritten notes, personal gifts, and treasured mementos from the trips on which Hill accompanied First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy as her Secret Service agent—trips that took them from Paris to London, through India, Pakistan, Greece, Morocco, Mexico, South America, and “three glorious weeks on the Amalfi Coast.” During these journeys, Jacqueline Kennedy became one of her husband’s—and America’s—greatest assets; in Hill’s words and the opinion of many others, “one of the best ambassadors the United States has ever had.”
As each newfound treasure sparks long-suppressed memories, Hill provides new insight into the intensely private woman he always called “Mrs. Kennedy” and who always called him “Mr. Hill.” For the first time, he reveals the depth of the relationship that developed between them as they traveled around the globe. Now ninety years old, Hill recounts the tender moments, the private laughs, the wild adventures, and the deep affection he shared with one of the world’s most beautiful and iconic women—and these memories are brought vividly to life alongside more than two hundred rare photographs, many of them previously unpublished.
In addition to the humorous stories and intimate moments, Hill reveals startling details about how traveling helped them both heal during the excruciating weeks and months following the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in November 1963. He also writes of the year he spent protecting Mrs. Kennedy after the assassination, a time in his life he has always been reluctant to speak about.
My Travels with Mrs. Kennedy unveils a personal side of history that has never been told before and takes the reader on a breathtaking journey, experiencing what it was like for Clint Hill to travel with Jacqueline Kennedy as the entire world was falling in love with her.]]>
Lisa McCubbin Hillis an award-winning journalist andNew York Timesbestselling author. She is the author of the acclaimed biographyBetty Ford: First Lady Women’s Advocate, Survivor, Trailblazerand coauthor (with Clint Hill) of theNew York TimesbestsellersMrs. Kennedy and Me;Five Days in November;Five Presidents: My Extraordinary Journey with Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, and Ford; and My Travels with Mrs. Kennedy.She met Clint Hill while writing her first book,The Kennedy Detail:JFK’s Secret Service Agents Break Their Silence(with Gerald Blaine). Previously, Lisa was a television news anchor, reporter, and talk-radio host. In 2021, Lisa McCubbin married coauthor Clint Hill. Visit her at LisaMcCubbin.com.]]>
In the war-ravaged borderlands of Ukraine, a Russian mercenary unit has gone rogue. Its members, conscripted from the worst prisons and mental asylums across Russia, are the most criminally violent, psychologically dangerous combatants to ever set foot upon the modern battlefield.
With all attention focused on the frontlines, they have pushed deeper into the interior to wage a campaign of unspeakable barbarity. As they move from village to village, committing horrific war crimes, they meet little resistance as all able-bodied men are off fighting the war.
Simultaneously, a team of Russian soldiers has been dispatched by the Kremlin to loot truckloads of art and priceless cultural treasures hidden away in a host of churches, museums, and private homes.
When multiple American aid workers are killed, America’s top spy is sent in to settle the score. But in a country so vast, will Harvath be able to find the men in question and, more importantly, will he be able to stop them before they can kill again?]]>
KHARKIV OBLAST, UKRAINE
TUESDAY
The children ran for their lives. Those who could, fled into the woods. Those who couldn’t—the smaller and the sickest among them—were forced to take up hiding places inside. The adults tried to convey calm, but it was wall-to-wall panic. And rightfully so. The monsters were coming.
In the basem*nt of the abandoned Soviet-era tuberculosis hospital, via a decrepit passageway punctuated by broken light fixtures, rusted pipes, and puddles of fetid water, was the kitchen. And in that kitchen was the best answer the orphanage had been able to come up with for its most complicated problem.
An old pantry had been outfitted like a chicken coop. Its shelves had been taken over by wooden nesting boxes pre-staged with bedding. The few blankets that could be spared had been tacked to the walls to help deaden any sound. A run-down refrigerator with a false back hid the entrance of the pantry from view.
Each of the infants inside had been given an emergency ration of formula. The toddlers, many of whom were suffering from colds and flu, had been given small pieces of bread soaked in tea and dabbed with a little bit of honey. Anything to keep them quiet. It was imperative that they maintain absolute silence.
With all able-bodied men at the front, the entirety of the orphanage staff, save for its eighty-year-old custodian, was female. There was no one available to fight for them. They would have to look out for themselves.
Weeks’ worth of discussions over what to do if this moment ever came had given birth to a plan. Everything about it—the running, the hiding, all of it—was extreme, but absolutely necessary. One of the evilest tendrils of the war was about to slither in and wrap itself around their throats.
The children had practiced taking deep, quiet breaths. Those with respiratory issues had been given pillows to cough into, but only as a last resort. Their hope for survival now rested not in their numbers, but in their ability to remain invisible.
Anna Royko, who had been at the orphanage for only a few months, had insisted on taking watch. She was an American of Ukrainian descent.
Born and raised in Chicago, the twenty-five-year-old had been deeply affected by the suffering she had seen coming out of Ukraine. When news broke that the Russians had bombed a children’s hospital and maternity ward in Mariupol, she could no longer sit by. She had to do something.
After emailing her resignation to the law firm where she worked, she booked a one-way ticket to Poland, as martial law had been declared in Ukraine and commercial air traffic had been suspended.
She spent a week knocking on doors and visiting various aid organizations across Warsaw before one finally took her on board.
Though she had zero experience working for an NGO and even less experience operating in a war zone, it was her fluency in Ukrainian that proved too valuable to pass up.
The group that hired her was a small humanitarian organization focused on getting much-needed supplies to the hardest-hit orphanages throughout Ukraine. The position paid next to nothing, would require grueling hours, and was extremely dangerous. So much so that there were reams of waivers she was required to sign.
The good they were doing was unquestionable and so, keeping her inner lawyer in check, she moved rapidly through the paperwork. After signing and initialing where indicated, she started work the very same day.
What Anna saw on her first trip into Ukraine ripped her heart out. The misery, the desperation, the horrific conditions the children were living in… all of it. The only thing that gave her hope was the heroism of the adults who were risking everything to take care of them.
As the war ground on, the situations at the orphanages grew more dire. No matter how quickly she and her colleagues returned with supplies, there was never enough. It was like showing up as the Titanic was slipping under the icy water only to toss out pool noodles. Watching people slowly die, especially children, wasn’t why she was there.
She had come to Ukraine to help ease people’s suffering, if not to somehow reverse it. But when she and her team arrived at an orphanage for special needs children in the southern city of Mykolaiv—halfway between Odesa and Kherson—something inside her snapped. The building had been bombed and completely destroyed.
As badly as the supplies from Poland were needed, being a glorified delivery driver was no longer enough for her. She had to do more.
Remembering a dilapidated orphanage in an old tuberculosis hospital in eastern Ukraine, and the tirelessly dedicated women who ran it, she decided that was where she could make a difference. By focusing solely on that location and the children within it, she could have the greatest possible impact.
Once she got to Kharkiv and had finished distributing supplies, she bid her stunned NGO colleagues good-bye.
As she walked across Freedom Square and disappeared from view, she tuned out their voices, which were begging her to reconsider, as well as warning that she was making a grave and likely deadly mistake. Anna didn’t care.
At that moment, she had no clue how she would reach her newly decided-upon destination, nor whether they would even accept her help. All she knew was that it was where she was being called to be.
When she finally made it to the orphanage’s front doors, the pack with everything she owned slung across her back, everyone inside was shocked to see her.
Despite desperately needing an extra set of hands, they tried to discourage her from staying. They felt that by taking her in, they would somehow be depriving the other orphanages that had grown so dependent on her. Anna, however, would hear nothing of it.
Allowing her inner lawyer to come out, she informed the women that she knew they needed help and that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The staff was stuck with her, whether they liked it or not. Truth be told, they were thrilled to have her.
She was a breath of fresh air. The children loved her. And as the youngest member of the staff by at least fifteen years, Anna had reservoirs of energy that none of them could match. With so many children, so few resources, and such an old building, there was always something that needed doing. No matter what the task, she was always the first to volunteer.
Which was what had brought her to the present moment—acting as the orphanage’s official lookout.
In each of the designated hiding places, the children needed at least one adult with them. Since Anna knew the building like the back of her hand, was a runner who worked out daily, and could move from room to room and floor to floor quickly, everyone knew she was the best choice. She was also, the staff believed, fearless.
In their minds, based upon the characters they watched on TV, most American women were fiercely independent and didn’t take sh*t from anyone. Throw in being an attorney, and it took Anna’s badassery in their eyes to a whole different level.
But it was one particular incident that had cemented her reputation at the orphanage as someone that you didn’t want to mess with.
Shortly after her arrival, a group of three men had shown up in the middle of the night attempting to “secure” the building’s generator for the “war effort.” Not only were they wearing tracksuits and gold jewelry, but they were also remarkably drunk.
The most likely explanation was that they were a mafia contingent roaming the region, stealing whatever would fetch a good price on the black market. Anna had been determined not to let that happen.
When one of them tried to intimidate her by pulling a knife and saying that he was going to rape her, she kneed him in the groin, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pressed her own knife—one she had been carrying since arriving in Ukraine—against his throat.
His cohorts were shocked, knocked off balance by how quickly she had taken control. It only lasted for a moment. Soon enough, the duo had regained their composure and were gaming out their next move. The men didn’t believe she would harm their associate.
When they advanced, however, Anna didn’t waver. She pressed the blade deeper into the man’s fleshy neck and kept going, even after she drew blood.
As the front of his shirt began to stain a deep red, the other men froze, once again unsure of how to proceed.
Anna told her captive to drop his knife, which he did, and she kicked it to the side.
There was only one message she wanted to get across to these scumbags—that this orphanage was more trouble than it was worth and that they shouldn’t ever bother coming back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the custodian, who lived on the edge of the property, had shown up, shotgun in hand.
With backup on scene and her message delivered, Anna released her captive, giving the thug a shove in the direction of his comrades.
Watching them back off toward their vehicle, she offered one last piece of advice—that they find their man a hospital with a staff who knew what they were doing. None of the local butchers would be able to sew up the wound she had carved into the man’s neck. If they didn’t quickly head for one of the bigger cities and get him properly taken care of, the artery was going to rupture and he was going to bleed out.
It was a lie. Bluster. She hadn’t cut him anywhere near his artery. But all that had mattered was that the would-be thieves believed it. And by the looks on their faces, they had. The men left and never came back.
Fast-forward to now and the orphanage was dealing with a whole new threat. Russian soldiers had been spotted on the outskirts of town.
They were moving from house to house. Scavenging. The stories of their looting were legion. Microwaves, winter clothing, washers and dryers… there had even been reports of the soldiers removing the ballistic plates from their tactical vests and inserting laptops and tablets they had stolen along the way. Their thievery, however, wasn’t the worst of the conduct they had become known for.
Kidnap, rape, torture, and murder were what Ukrainians feared the most. Anyone was fair game for the Russians—not just women and girls, but men and little boys as well. They were barbaric.
The evil flowed straight from Moscow. Russian soldiers had not only been encouraged to commit sexual assaults, but they had even been issued Viagra.
The Russians were known to raid a village and stay for days, carrying out their horrors via around-the-clock shifts. The word nightmare didn’t even begin to describe the abominations they so zealously perpetrated.
These terrors had become the orphanage staff’s worst fear—that the children, whose care and protection had been entrusted to them, might be subject to such unspeakable crimes.
It was why they had worked so hard to develop their plan—the children who could run, would run. The rest would hide. And then everyone would pray. Everyone, that is, except Anna. She didn’t have time for prayer.
Someone had suggested that they make the orphanage look deserted, as if it hadn’t been occupied in years, but it simply wasn’t feasible. The best they could hope to do was to make it look like everyone had fled. The final touches of that plan fell to Anna.
After making sure that the remaining children and adults were secreted away in their hiding places, she moved hastily through the building, ticking off her checklist.
All of the lights needed to be shut off, along with the boiler. Any remaining coats or boots near the front doors needed to be hidden. What little medicine and first aid supplies they had needed to be gathered up and tucked away for safekeeping.
Her sweep through the facility didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to be convincing.
The Russians were used to people fleeing in advance of their arrival. As long as that appeared to be what had happened here, everything—the orphanage staff hoped—would be okay.
Moving from room to room, her heart pounding, Anna focused on what she had to do.
Contrary to how her colleagues saw her, she wasn’t fearless. Only stupid people were fearless in the face of danger. She was, actually, quite afraid, but the orphanage had become her home and all of the souls within it her family.
She often thought of one of the quotes her sixth-grade teacher in Chicago had taped to the wall behind her desk. It was from Winston Churchill. “Fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision.”
And so, as she had on the night of the attempted generator theft, Anna made a decision. Though she was scared, she would exhibit courage on behalf of the people and the place that she had grown to care so deeply about.
With the dark brown hair of her ponytail bouncing against the back of her neck, she hurriedly completed her check of the building and then moved to the window that would serve as her lookout position.
It killed her that they hadn’t been able to hide all of the orphanage’s food. Once the soldiers had discovered the kitchen, they were going to abscond with quite a bounty. There was no telling how the staff would ever replenish their stocks. So many of the items they depended on had gone from scarce to absolutely nonexistent. Even once everyday items like butter and eggs had become luxuries.
Peering out the window, Anna focused on the bare branches of the perfectly spaced trees that lined the driveway up to the former hospital. The contrast between the ugly, communist architecture and the facility’s thoughtful grounds had fascinated her from her very first visit. Even under the brutal yoke of the Soviets, the Ukrainians had still found opportunities for artistic expression and ways to quietly nourish beauty.
Sadly, that was no longer the case. Ever since the Russian invasion, Ukrainians had been focused on one thing—survival.
Anna’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by bursts of machine-gun fire, which drew her attention toward the village.
Squinting through a pair of cracked binoculars that the custodian had scrounged, she could see a column of three military vehicles approaching. Each of them had been painted with a large, white Z.
Many Russian officials claimed that the letter was an abbreviation of the phrase “For victory,” while others—with a straight face—said that it was meant to represent the expression “For peace.” The Ukrainians, however, had their own definitions.
In Ukraine, the Z symbol was referred to either as the Zwastika—a reference to the Nazi swastika—or as the Zieg, a play on the Hitler salute, Sieg Heil.
As the column moved through the village, the men in the vehicles kept wildly firing their guns. What they were shooting at, Anna had no idea. She couldn’t see a soul. Anyone in their right mind had either fled or was in hiding.
The hope at the orphanage was that the men would just keep moving, but as soon as Anna saw one of the vehicles peel off and head up the hospital’s driveway, she knew that wasn’t going to be the case. It was time to relay the situation to the others.
Moving rapidly through the halls, she used a wrench to tap on the pipes to transmit her message.
All of the staff, along with all of the children who were old enough to understand, now knew that the men had arrived and that no one must make a sound until Anna had given the all clear.
Slipping into her hiding spot, it was finally Anna’s time to pray, which she did, fervently.
She asked God to protect everyone in the building, as well as the older children who had run off to hide in a cave deep within the woods.
Once her prayers were said, all she could do was wait and hold her breath. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long.
Six horrifying men entered the building. Their heads were shaved and their faces had been painted to resemble skulls. They carried hatchets and long, curved knives that looked like something butchers might use.
Because the building had obviously been a hospital at one point, their first target was the dispensary. They wanted anything they could get their hands on—morphine, amphetamines, barbiturates, it didn’t matter. The dispensary, however, turned out to be a dry hole. Every cabinet and every drawer had long been cleared out.
With no drugs to be found, they swept the offices, searching everywhere for bottles of alcohol or anything else of value. Once again, they came up empty.
Moving deeper into the building, they eventually discovered what the old hospital was currently being used for. Next to drugs and booze, their favorite spoils were women and children.
Running through the halls, the ghouls began squealing like little pigs and singing a Russian folk song, “Oysya, Ti Oysya.”
“I won’t touch you,” the deviants sang, “don’t worry. Oysya, you Oysya, don’t be afraid of me.”
From her hiding spot, Anna could hear them getting closer. Even though she didn’t speak Russian, the singing made her blood run cold.
At some point, the pack decided to split up and fan out in different directions. A man coming toward her started howling like a wolf. He was either high or insane. Perhaps he was both. Anna didn’t care. She just wanted them gone.
Frozen in place, she listened as he scuttled past. The body odor wafting off him was so rancid that she almost gagged and gave herself away. Thankfully, she kept it together.
Straining her ears, she waited for the man to turn down the next hallway, but he didn’t. Instead, he came to a stop. She could feel that he was looking at something, studying it. Intuitively, she knew exactly what it was.
In front of the main staircase leading down to the kitchen, Anna had shoved a bookcase. Around it she had strewn trash and a few pieces of broken furniture. It was a less-than-optimal camouflage job, but it had been the only thing they could come up with.
A few seconds later, she heard the bookcase being scraped across the floor. The fiend was pushing it away from the wall!
It was followed by the sound of his footsteps bounding down the stairs two at a time. He was headed for the kitchen.
Soon enough, a series of loud crashing and banging sounds began. She could hear the invader overturning baker’s racks and shelving units. It sounded like nothing more than wanton vandalism—destruction for destruction’s sake. Or was it?
As another terrible thought entered her mind, her blood once again ran cold. Could the bookcase at the top of the stairs have given him reason to believe that something else might be hidden in the kitchen?
She had no way of knowing, but the fear gripped Anna so tightly that she could barely breathe. The bookcase had been her idea.
Regardless of what his motivation was, if this savage was intent on tearing the kitchen apart piece by piece, the odds were that he was going to uncover the infants and other children hiding in the pantry.
She couldn’t let that happen. And while she knew it was insane—beyond insane, actually—she had to do something.
Against all the advice she had given her colleagues regarding not leaving their hiding places until after the threat had passed, she left hers.
Careful not to make any noise, she moved through the hallway and crept down the stairs, her knife clasped tightly in her hand. She had no idea how she was going to handle the situation, only that it needed to be handled and there was no one else but her.
With the sound of each broken dish or smashed cabinet, she flinched, but kept going. She had never been so terrified in all her life.
Drawing nearer to the kitchen, she took a deep breath and paused. This was it. Exhaling, she peered around the edge of the doorway into the kitchen. There, amid the destruction, she could see the Russian beast.
He had laid his hatchet on the counter and was focused on the old refrigerator, which was obscuring the entrance to the pantry. Had he figured it out?
If he hadn’t yet, Anna was certain that he was about to. And once he had discovered the children and staff hiding on the other side, there was no telling what horrors he would unleash.
She had to come up with a plan—right now, right here—before any of the other monsters joined him in the basem*nt. She was only going to get one chance.
She didn’t want to tangle with the man, not physically, not if she didn’t have to. There was no telling what kind of psychotic tricks he might have up his sleeve. She had heard the grisly tales of Russians carrying straight razors in order to disfigure their victims once they’d had their way with them. She had no intention of becoming a victim.
The key to successfully overcoming the soldier was to use the element of surprise to her advantage. At the same time, she needed to keep as much distance between them as possible. Doing a fast scan of the kitchen, she locked onto an idea.
The only question remaining was whether she could fully launch her attack before the ghoul had a chance to react. There was only one way to find out.
Taking a final, deep breath, she counted down from three, then slid through the doorway and into the kitchen.
What she wouldn’t have given at this moment for a gun and the knowledge of how to use it. Instead she would have to rely on active-shooter training she had received at her law firm back in Chicago.
The instructor, an ex–Green Beret, had based his workshop on the Run, Hide, Fight formula and had spent most of his time focusing on the Fight component. As Anna crept toward the fire extinguisher, she was grateful for everything the Special Forces operative had taught her. She only wished she had heeded his advice about regularly checking to make sure the extinguisher was up to date.
Not that it would have mattered. With all the bombs and missiles that had been falling on Ukraine, fresh fire extinguishers were simply another unicorn of the war—something rumored to exist, but impossible to find.
With her heart thumping in her chest, she chose her steps as carefully, as quickly, and as quietly as she could. She made her way across the side of the kitchen and successfully removed the extinguisher from the wall. Pulling the pin, she headed toward the man who was still, thankfully, preoccupied with the fridge.
She was almost on top of him when something caused the Russian to spin. The moment he caught sight of her, he lunged for his hatchet.
Anna had no idea if she was close enough to blind him with the fog of the extinguisher, but she had no other choice. The moment had arrived and she squeezed the handle, deploying an enormous cloud.
Though the extinguisher was seriously out of date, there was just enough pressure to do the job.
While the demon couldn’t see, Anna had pinpointed his location and knew exactly where he was standing.
Raising the extinguisher, she charged and used all of her strength to bring the cylinder crashing down against the man’s head.
It was a death blow. Anna had succeeded in cracking open the ghoul’s skull and spilling his brains onto the kitchen floor as his lifeless body collapsed.
The mixture of fear and adrenaline only made her heart pound harder in her chest. There was no time to catch her breath or reassess the situation. There was only time to act. At some point, which she had to assume would be sooner rather than later, the monster’s colleagues would be looking for him. Eventually they would make their way to the basem*nt. She now needed an entirely new plan.
But before she could react, she heard someone step into the kitchen and co*ck a pistol.
A shadowy Russian defector.
A beautiful Norwegian intelligence officer.
A deadly American spy.
An ingenious plot to collapse the United States has been uncovered. But can the highly suspect intelligence be trusted?
In the fog of war, when friends can appear as enemies and enemies as friends, only one thing is certain—when in doubt, there is no doubt.]]>
A Best New Holiday Romance by PopSugar, BuzzFeed, Refinery29, and more!
The author of the “swoon-worthy debut” (Harper’s Bazaar) The Charm Offensive returns with a festive romantic comedy about a woman who fakes an engagement with her landlord…only to fall for his sister.
One year ago, recent Portland transplant Ellie Oliver had her dream job in animation and a Christmas Eve meet-cute with a woman at a bookstore that led her to fall in love over the course of a single night. But after a betrayal the next morning and the loss of her job soon after, she finds herself adrift, alone, and desperate for money.
Finding work at a local coffee shop, she’s just getting through the days—until Andrew, the shop’s landlord, proposes a shocking, drunken plan: a marriage of convenience that will give him his recent inheritance and alleviate Ellie’s financial woes and isolation. They make a plan to spend the holidays together at his family cabin to keep up the ruse. But when Andrew introduces his new fiancée to his sister, Ellie is shocked to discover it’s Jack—the mysterious woman she fell for over the course of one magical Christmas Eve the year before. Now, Ellie must choose between the safety of a fake relationship and the risk of something real.
Perfect for fans of Written in the Stars and One Day in December, Kiss Her Once for Me is the queer holiday rom-com that you’ll want to cozy up with next to the fire.]]>
Chapter One
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
There is almost an inch of snow on the ground, so naturally, the entire city is on the verge of collapse.
Since buses are delayed, I tighten the red, hand-knitted scarf around my neck and plow angrily down Belmont Street. Cars are Tetrised bumper to bumper from the arcade all the way to the dispensary because no one here knows how to drive in the snow. Schools have prematurely closed for the day, and children appear in every doorway and walkway, dancing joyfully, catching snowflakes on their tongues. Up ahead, I watch two kids attempt to make snowballs that are at least 90 percent dirt.
Leave it to Portland, Oregon, to be simultaneously so delighted and so horrified by such a modest amount of snow.
And, quite frankly: f*ck the snow.
By most meteorological definitions, this doesn’t even constitute snow. It’s small and wet, falls too quickly, and halfway melts into the concrete as soon as it lands. Still, it’s enough to delay the buses and completely derail my day.
I reach into the pocket of my puffy jacket and pull out my phone to check the time again.
Three minutes. I have three minutes and ten blocks to go, which means I’m going to be late for work. And if I’m late for work, I definitely won’t get the promotion and pay raise I so desperately need. And I’ll probably get fired. Again. And if I get fired again, I’ll probably lose my apartment.
Two days ago, the neon-yellow flyer appeared in the slit of my front door, informing me of the raise in rent January first. Fourteen hundred dollars a month for four hundred square feet of subterranean hellscape in Southeast Portland.
If I lose my apartment, I will have to find housing in a city with a horrible housing crisis. And if I can’t find a new place to live…
The anxiety extrapolates and catastrophizes all the way to its natural conclusion: if I’m late for work again, my trash heap of a life will finally be put in the compactor and crushed into a cube of steaming hot garbage once and for all.
Why does Portland snow always insist on ruining my life?
The image creeps in. The girl with fire in her eyes and snow in her hair. Dancing on a bridge at midnight. The sound of her laugh in my ear and her breath on my throat and her hands—
But no. There’s no point in torturing myself with the memory of last Christmas.
I look down to check the time again just as my phone buzzes with an incoming call. The cracked screen on my iPhone 8 flashes with the name Linds along with a photo of a woman holding a two-gallon alcoholic beverage outside the Bellagio.
I briefly consider ignoring the call, but Catholic guilt, solidified in infancy, wins out. “Hey, Linds—”
“Did you Venmo me that money?” my mother starts as soon as the call connects. It’s abundantly clear that no, I did not Venmo her the money, or else Lindsey Oliver would have no reason to call me.
“Not yet.”
“Elena. Lovey. Baby girl.” Linds adopts her best mom voice—the one she probably learned from watching Nick at Nite reruns while stoned through the better part of the late nineties. Lindsey Oliver insists everyone, including her only child, calls her Linds, while she exclusively calls me Elena despite the fact that I’m Ellie, that I’ve always been an Ellie, that Elena fits me like a too-tight pair of jeans.
“I really need that money, sweetheart. It’s just two hundred dollars.” I can perfectly picture my mother’s pouting face on the other end of the line. Her dark brown hair, which she dyes a stark blond; the natural waves she straightens every morning; the pale skin she’s eradicated through numerous tanning salon punch cards; the high cheekbones she highlights through contouring.
I can picture her face because it’s my face, except I still have the curly brown hair Linds calls “frizzy” and the pale skin that makes me look “washed out.” If my mother isn’t asking me for money, she’s probably criticizing my appearance.
“I promise, this will be the last time I ask,” she insists.
“I’m sure it will be,” I huff as I jog to catch the tail end of a “Walk” sign. Not for the first time in my life, I regret that my only means of physical exercise is the occasional kitchen dance party while I wait for my frozen burrito to heat up in the microwave. “I’m just a little strapped for cash at the moment with my student loans and my rent, but hopefully I’ll get this promotion to assistant manager, and—”
“It’s not my fault you insisted on going to college forever and got fired from Lycra Studios,” she snaps.
“Laika Studios,” I correct her for the dozenth time. My mother may switch her career goals as frequently and thoughtlessly as she shuffles through husbands, but she never misses the chance to remind me of my greatest failure. I don’t let her see how these words affect me, though—don’t let her know about the hot kernel of shame that blossoms in my stomach. “And I didn’t go to college forever,” I manage casually. “I got a master’s of fine arts in animation.”
“And what’s the point of having that fancy degree if you can’t financially provide for your elderly parents?”
Linds is forty-six.
Her rant is really starting to build now. “For eighteen years,” she laments, “I clothed you! I fed you! I kept a roof over your head!”
Her claims of providing for my basic needs are greatly exaggerated. When I was twelve, I’d asked my mother for money for new art supplies. Linds hadn’t taken it well.
“Do you know how much it costs to raise a child? And you want more?”
“Add it to my tab!” I’d screamed in a fit of preteen surliness.
And Linds had screamed back, “Maybe I will!”
And she had. Lindsey had calculated the cost of my existence down to the nickel, and she expects full reimbursem*nt. Unfortunately, saying no to my mother is not a skill I developed in the first twenty-five years of my life. I exhale a lifetime of parental disappointment into the wet, snowy air. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do to get you the money.”
Her voice goes soft on the line as she coos, “Thank you, Elena, my darling.”
And this is it. This is my moment. I need to strike while she’s briefly filled with maternal pride and affection.
“So, Christmas is less than two weeks away,” I hedge. “Any chance you’ll make it up to Portland for the holidays this year?”
There is a desperate hopefulness in my voice, even though I already know the answer. She didn’t come last Christmas, and she won’t come this Christmas, and I’m only setting myself up for heartbreak.
And is that even what I really want? To spend Christmas morning scraping a hungover Linds off the floor between suffering her rants about everything from my lackluster physical appearance to my even lacklustier love life? The last time we spent Christmas together back in Cleveland—before Linds followed husband number three to Arizona—she dragged me to a nightclub, tried to set me up with a handsy forty-year-old Realtor named Rick, and then promptly ditched me so she could go home with Rick’s friend. I didn’t see her for three days after that.
I was nineteen. My mother had provided the fake ID. Happy f*cking holidays.
Is that really my Christmas wish?
The answer is, apparently, yes. I don’t have anyone else. If last Christmas is any indication, it’s best I’m not alone for the holidays. I tend to make misguided life choices in the name of loneliness.
“Why would I leave Phoenix for somewhere wet and cold?” Linds asks, reminding me that my Christmas wishes are always irrelevant.
“Because I’m here?”
She smacks her lips into the phone. “Elena Oliver, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“You’re so dramatic. You’ve always been like this. Don’t get all sensitive and try to make me feel guilty for not wanting to spend Christmas in the rain.”
“I wasn’t—”
A deep voice growls in the background of the call, and Linds mutters something under her breath in reply. “I gotta go.”
“I could always fly down to Phoenix,” I offer pathetically. So very pathetically. Just a twenty-five-year-old woman, begging her mother to spend Christmas with her.
“Now’s not a good time for that. Just Venmo me the money by tonight, okay?”
That’s it. No happy holidays. No I love you. The call disconnects before I can even say goodbye. The earlier shame in my stomach is eclipsed by the aching hole of loneliness in my chest. I’m going to spend Christmas by myself in my squalid studio apartment, eating a five-dollar rotisserie chicken over my kitchen sink for dinner.
Homesickness sluices through me, but there is no home to be sick for, nothing waiting for me here or anywhere.
I don’t let myself think about the brief moment last Christmas when I thought I’d found someone to ease the ache, a person to call home.
But I’m always alone, have always been alone, and just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean there’s any reason for that to change. You can feel just as lost and aimless at Christmas as any other time of the year.
I pause as I wait for a walk sign, and around me, the snow is already turning to rain.
The thing about snow is, it never lasts, and you’re always left a slightly dingier version of the world when it starts to melt.
I stare down at my cracked phone screen. I’m already four minutes late for work.
Snow magic, my ass.
—The New York Times]]>
—Buzzfeed]]>
—Chloe Liese, author ofTwo Wrongs Make a Right]]>
—Timothy Janovsky, author ofNever Been Kissed]]>
Pulitzer Prize–winning and New York Times bestselling financial journalist Gretchen Morgenson and financial policy analyst Joshua Rosner investigate the insidious world of private equity in this “masterpiece of investigative journalism” (Christopher Leonard, bestselling author of Kochland)—revealing how it puts our entire economy and us at risk.
Much has been written about the widening gulf between rich and poor and how our style of capitalism has failed to provide a living wage for so many Americans. But nothing has fully detailed the outsized role a small cohort of elite financiers has played in this inequality. Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist and bestselling author Gretchen Morgenson, with coauthor Joshua Rosner, unmask the small group of celebrated Wall Street financiers, and their government enablers, who use excessive debt and dubious practices to undermine our nation’s economy for their own enrichment: private equity.
These Are the Plunderers traces the thirty-year history of corporate takeovers in America and private equity’s increasing dominance. Morgenson and Rosner investigate some of the biggest names in private equity, exposing how they buy companies, load them with debt, and then bleed them of assets and profits. All while prosecutors and regulators stand idly by.
The authors show how companies absorbed by private equity have worse outcomes for everyone but the financiers: employees are more likely to lose their jobs or their benefits; companies are more likely to go bankrupt; patients are more likely to have higher healthcare costs; residents of nursing homes are more likely to die faster; towns struggle when private equity buys their main businesses, crippling the local economy; and school teachers, firefighters, medical technicians, and other public workers are more likely to have lower returns on their pensions because of the fees private equity extracts from their investments. In other words: we are all worse off because of private equity.
These Are the Plunderers is a “meticulous and devastating takedown of a powerful force in Western capitalism” (Brad Stone, bestselling author of Amazon Unbound) that exposes the greed and pillaging in private equity, revealing the many ways these billionaires have bled the economy, and, in turn, us.]]>
Joshua Rosneris managing director at independent research consultancy Graham Fisher and Co., advising regulators, policymakers, and institutional investors on banking and financial markets. He has been interviewed on PBS, CBS, NBC, CNN, Bloomberg, CNBC, and Fox News, and featured in or written forTheNew York Times,The Wall Street Journal, Reuters, Economist, Barron’s, andHuffPost.Joshua is the coauthor of theNew York TimesbestsellerReckless Endangermentwith Gretchen Morgenson.]]>
Katie Watson was a brown-eyed toddler in Phoenix, Arizona, beloved by her family for her sunny, easygoing ways. In 1982, when she was not yet two, Katie had become permanently brain damaged, after a local hospital failed to treat her pneumonia properly. Her parents, Vince and Sue Watson, received a medical malpractice award in a lawsuit against the hospital and, directed by the court, invested part of it in a guaranteed insurance company contract. The investment promised to deliver a monthly stream of income to Katie to cover expenses for her care.
That court overseeing the Watsons’ case steered them to buy a product issued by the Executive Life Insurance Company, then rated A+ for financial soundness—the highest grade an insurer could receive. Under the arrangement, known as a structured settlement, Executive Life, California’s largest insurer, contracted to pay $9,000 a month, with a cost-of-living adjustment, for as long as Katie lived. The funds would cover round-the-clock care for Katie at home, and after a trial and settlement with the hospital, the Watsons started receiving the insurer’s payments in 1986.
Four years later, Executive Life was teetering. Its investment portfolio had cratered amid a bond market meltdown, and the California insurance commissioner seized it in the spring of 1991. Then the commissioner sold the insurer’s investment portfolio in a virtual giveaway to a New York financier and his partners, claiming the deal would benefit policyholders. Not exactly: Katie’s “guaranteed” contract with Executive Life—and the payments it had promised—was no longer in force. Under the vastly reduced terms of the new post-takeover policy, her parents could not afford the costs of Katie’s care, expenses they would now have to shoulder themselves. Unable to pay the mortgage on their home, they lost it to foreclosure. Katie, who passed away in 2017, wound up receiving millions of dollars less than Executive Life had promised to pay for her care and support.
Executive Life had over three hundred thousand policyholders, many of whom relied on it for regular payments. Like Katie, these customers took a serious hit after the company was seized and its assets sold in a deal engineered by the New York financier. A 2008 audit of the deal by the state of California tallied policyholder losses at over $3 billion, a figure that is probably low.
Which New York titan of finance won control of Executive Life’s deeply discounted assets all those years ago? Leon Black, cofounder of Apollo Global Management and a billionaire many times over. Today he enjoys a sumptuous art collection, an array of palatial homes, and, until recently, a seat of power on the prestigious Museum of Modern Art board.
The multibillion-dollar bonanza known as Executive Life was the very birth of Black’s fortune. In 1991, when he snared it, Black’s new partnership, Apollo, had just been born. Running from the implosion of his former employer, a felonious brokerage firm known as Drexel Burnham Lambert, Black managed to wrangle the Executive Life assets on the cheap, for roughly 50 cents on the dollar.
Some called it “the deal of the century.” Later, the transaction would come under federal prosecutors’ scrutiny and Black would be named as a defendant in a California attorney general’s conspiracy suit related to it. But that case, alleging secret arrangements that cheated the state and Executive Life policyholders, was dismissed on a technicality—the judge ruled that the AG had no standing. Black walked away with his gains.
Thirty years later, the Executive Life transaction is long forgotten. In 2021, a California court approved the state insurance department’s request to destroy all documents detailing the failure, saying that the matter was closed because policyholders had finally received their last payouts. The document destruction started in early 2022.
Still, the deal is rich for reexamination. Why? Because it is Exhibit A for the kinds of financial engineering and exploitation that have led to the elevation of wealthy financiers and the degradation of other stakeholders over the last three decades. In fact, Black’s takeover of Executive Life’s assets is a Rosetta stone for how a small group of aggressive moneymen have extracted the wealth and treasure of the American middle class, working poor, and retirees since the late 1980s.
The Executive Life transaction stands out as a harbinger of the destruction to come in another way. In recent years, these same financiers have begun acquiring insurance companies outright, putting current policyholders at risk of losses from questionable investments, all the while generating enormous fees for themselves. Many policyholders don’t even know their futures lie in the plunderers’ hands or that the historically conservative assets that used to back their insurance and retirement policies have been replaced by those that carry far more risk.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First, consider the winners and losers in the long-ago Executive Life deal: the transaction made billions for Black and his partners, almost overnight, at the expense of retirees, pensioners, and the disabled. All were Executive Life policyholders, like Katie Watson, who’d been promised payouts or end-of-life benefits. They wound up forfeiting money as a result of the deal that Black and his partners dreamed up.
Second, even though the Black-led sale of the insurance company and its assets was overseen by a California court charged with ensuring fairness, many aspects of the deal were cloaked in secrecy and riddled with conflicts of interest unknown to policyholders. This, too, was a precursor to the present day; conflicts and secrecy—even in a judicial system that is supposed to be transparent for the public good—are key features of the private equity playbook, enabling them to put themselves and their interests ahead of workers, pensioners, and investors.
Had the Executive Life policyholders and their advocates known about the conflicts and hidden relationships, they could have agitated for a better deal. For example, if policyholders had known Black and his partners were already investors in some of the bonds they acquired in the Executive Life takeover, the policyholders could have demanded higher prices from Black for those bonds.
But the man representing the Executive Life policyholders in the deal, who was obliged to get the best possible outcome for them, was no typical seller. He was the California insurance commissioner, an ambitious politician named John Garamendi. He gave Black the Executive Life prize, claiming then and forevermore that policyholders did well in the deal. After several unsuccessful runs for California governor, in 2009 Garamendi became a congressman, a Democrat who today represents the state’s eighth district, northeast of San Francisco.
Wealth transfers like the Executive Life deal, where the assets of everyday Americans wind up in the hands of cunning financiers, are often blessed by government officials. Indeed, regulatory complicity or complacency has been crucial to the successes of these elites over the decades.
More than a decade after the deal occurred, federal prosecutors contended it was infected with fraud. A foreign company, affiliated with Black’s group, that purchased the insurer had unlawfully concealed its ownership stake. Although the United States Justice Department went after some of Black’s associates in the transaction, and California’s attorney general named him as a defendant in its conspiracy case, Black, the mastermind, was never found culpable.
Another recurring aspect of the plunder years.
Katie Watson’s parents had tried to fight the sale of the insurer’s assets to Black’s new partnership. They’d traveled to Los Angeles to attend court hearings and argued against the sale with the insurance commissioner on the courthouse steps. None of it did any good.
Today, Vince and Sue Watson are still angry that money pledged for their daughter’s care wound up in Leon Black’s pocket.
“Leon Black got the deal of the century on the backs of the handicapped and the brain-damaged,” Sue Watson told us. “Over the years, we tracked him and saw how he thrived with our money. Wow is all I can say. Wow.”
Seeing Black pick the Executive Life carcass clean in the early 1990s was only the beginning, Sue Watson recounted. In the years that followed, she and her husband watched as he rose to dazzling wealth and status in New York City, amassing all the trappings. There was the private jet, the yacht, the real estate holdings in the Hamptons, Los Angeles, London, Westchester County horse country, and Manhattan’s Upper East Side.
And the art! Black’s prodigious collection included a Raphael, a famed Picasso sculpture, and the only privately held copy of The Scream by Edvard Munch. One of the most iconic images in all of art, Black purchased it for $120 million in 2012.
Six years later, Black ascended to the chairmanship of the Museum of Modern Art, founded by Rockefellers. He and his wife Debra gave $40 million to the museum, which named its film center for the couple. Black’s fortune stood at $7 billion in 2018, according to Forbes magazine.
Black’s climb to the pinnacle of New York City society had not been preordained. Yes, he had been raised the son of Eli Black, a former corporate CEO known for his contributions to the arts in New York City. But tragedy struck the family in February 1975, when Black, the chief executive of a conglomerate called United Brands, committed suicide just as his involvement in a significant international corporate bribery scandal was about to emerge. Weeks after the executive used his briefcase to smash a window of his forty-fourth floor Midtown office and jumped to his death, a federal investigation began. Its conclusion: Eli Black had authorized bribes to officials in Honduras to reduce his company’s taxes. In addition to taking down the president of Honduras, the fraud helped produce a new law banning such payoffs—the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act of 1977.
The suicide occurred while Leon Black was finishing up at Harvard Business School. After graduating from Dartmouth with a degree in philosophy and history, he had decided to pursue a career in finance like his father. But despite obtaining his MBA from Harvard, he’d been turned down for a job at Lehman Brothers, then a prestigious investment bank at which his father had worked. Black went instead to an unglamorous accounting firm, quit after a year, and joined an obscure financial publisher called Boardroom Reports.
It was not an auspicious beginning. But soon Black secured a position at Drexel Burnham Lambert, a second-tier Wall Street firm known for being scrappy and brash. There he earned the nickname “Pizza the Hut” for his voracious appetite when toiling to meet deadlines on mergers and acquisitions deals.
Black would rise at Drexel and the firm would make him rich. But it would also emotionally scar him when it collapsed in 1990 amid a massive insider trading and market manipulation scandal. Beyond that, Black emerged from Drexel relatively unscathed, as he would in subsequent brushes with controversy.
Until, that is, the stunning details of his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein, the notorious pedophile, began to emerge in 2019.
Epstein was a Manhattan arriviste and man about town who claimed to be a financial advisor. His credentials were nonexistent—a five-year stint as a trader at Bear Stearns in the 1970s was the sum total of his Wall Street cred. Black had gotten to know him in the 1990s, their relationship involving many mutually beneficial lofty positions and rewards. Black invited Epstein in 1997 to become a director of the Black family foundation. Two years after that, an Apollo executive donated $167,000 to a foundation associated with Epstein.
In the years after Epstein pleaded guilty to procuring a child for prostitution in June 2008, the ties between the men grew stronger. In 2011, an Epstein investment unit bought a large stake in Environmental Solutions Worldwide, a small company funded by Black and where two of his sons served as directors. And when Apollo offered shares of its own stock to the public for the first time in 2011, an Epstein entity based in the United States Virgin Islands bought $5 million worth of shares.
Next came a $10 million donation in 2015 by Black to an Epstein foundation called Gratitude America. This time, Black was careful to make his contribution through a limited-liability company he controlled that did not bear his name, the Wall Street Journal reported.
But after Epstein died in a Manhattan jail accused of sex trafficking in 2019, truly startling facts began to materialize about Black’s decades-long association with the pedophile. In the spring of 2021, a bombshell internal Apollo investigation determined that Black had been paying Epstein millions of dollars for financial advice even after Epstein’s 2008 prosecution. Over a period of five years, Black paid Epstein an astonishing $158 million; among the advice Epstein provided was how Black could lower his tax bills.
Given that Epstein was nobody’s idea of a tax guru, Black’s huge payments were puzzling. They also turned out to be a career-ender, because they imperiled Apollo’s ability to raise money from public pension funds and other big investors. These buyers were Apollo’s biggest and most profitable clients; if they turned from the firm because of the Epstein taint, its business model would collapse.
In January 2021, at the age of sixty-nine, Black finally lost his grip on Apollo, the firm he’d founded. Black said he was retiring from Apollo for health reasons, but the Epstein stigma also triggered his resignation two months later as chairman of the Museum of Modern Art. If that weren’t enough, a former fashion model who had been his mistress soon came forward with tales of rape, sexual harassment, and abuse by Black, beginning in 2008. A second accuser filed suit against Black, contending he had raped her.
The titan fought back, denying both allegations and contending that the relationship with the Russian woman, more than thirty years his junior, had been “consensual.” He also said she’d tried to extort money from him and that he’d paid her $9 million to keep their affair quiet. Her claim that Black had flown her to Palm Beach to try to get her to bed Epstein and Black simultaneously was fiction, Black contended. As this book went to press, both cases were ongoing.
The sordid stories, gleefully retold in New York’s gossip columns, rocked Black.
But in the upside-down world of Wall Street, Black’s departure from Apollo only served to increase his wealth. The firm’s shares—of which he still holds millions—rose when he left. It was as if investors were relieved there’d be no more bruises for the firm with him gone.
As Black departed Apollo and the MOMA board, an aroma of disgrace filled the air. Encomiums from his peers were few upon his exit from the A-list scene. Now Black’s eventual obituary would not simply recount his remarkable rise, his accumulation of vast wealth, and amazing art—it would also document his fall.
To Sue Watson, Black’s woes were only fitting, a case of “what goes around comes around.” Karma has everyone’s address, they say.
Memories are famously short on Wall Street. But for some with longer recall, Black’s ouster from Apollo over payments to Jeffrey Epstein for tax advice had a riveting parallel.
Forty-five years earlier, Black’s father, Eli, had been undone by a secret scheme involving his company’s taxes. A corporate takeover artist and chief executive of United Brands, a large conglomerate, the elder Black had orchestrated two bribes to reduce banana export taxes his company owed. With the scandal about to emerge, he killed himself in February 1975.
Leon Black was by no means a carbon copy of his father—hardly anybody is. But the men’s business methods had striking similarities—the heavy debt used to acquire companies, the predilection for sharp tactics, the view that companies were little more than a collection of numbers. Each man has been characterized as “a pirate.” Decades after his father’s suicide, when Leon Black was at the pinnacle of his career, an interviewer asked him about the calamity. His response was telling. “It took me years of therapy to get over that,” he said, “and to figure out where he ended, and I began.”
Elihu Menasche Blachowitz was an ordained rabbi with a financial acumen. Born in Poland, he emigrated with his family to New York as a child and graduated from Yeshiva University in 1940. As a rabbi, he led a congregation in Long Island but saw opportunity on Wall Street, becoming an investment banker at Lehman Brothers and later at the now defunct American Securities.
Son Leon was born in 1951 and three years later, Eli Black became CEO of American Seal-Kap, a bottle cap manufacturer. Eli had been advising the company on financial matters while a banker at American Securities, but Seal-Kap wanted him and his expertise in-house.
As CEO, Black soon started buying other companies to bring into the American Seal-Kap fold and piling on debt to do so. His most significant purchase was the United Fruit Company, a storied and notorious banana importer founded in 1899 and based in Boston.
Once a mighty, neocolonialist enterprise founded by slave traders, United Fruit controlled massive landholdings in Central America, along with a vast fleet of ships and railroad operations. The nation’s largest banana importer, United Fruit had close government connections; it played a role in the 1961 Bay of Pigs fiasco, a CIA operation that tried and failed to invade Cuba. United Fruit supplied two ships from its so-called Great White Fleet for the ill-fated invasion, according to An American Company: The Tragedy of United Fruit, by Thomas P. McCann, a former vice president of the company.
In 1968, United Fruit was facing higher costs of growing and exporting bananas, a major problem given that the company did nothing else. At the helm of American Seal-Kap, Black started quietly buying up United Fruit stock in the open market, with the help of an allied brokerage firm, amassing a controlling stake of 733,000 shares. In McCann’s telling, the way Black cobbled together the shares may have run afoul of securities rules and led to questions from other United Fruit shareholders as well as the Federal Trade Commission.
But these questions became moot when Black proposed a takeover to the company’s directors; initially dubious, all but one agreed to the deal when no other reasonable suitor materialized.
Wall Street approved and United Fruit’s stock soared. Investors believed Black would breathe “new life into old United Fruit,” according to Bananas, a critical biography of the company by journalist Peter Chapman. Black was “a thrusting ‘asset manager’ who would take hold of a company that for years had mismanaged its assets,” Chapman wrote of investors’ reaction to the takeover. A man who’d risen from poverty on the Lower East Side, Black would fix the company’s problems.
American Seal-Kap was renamed United Brands in 1970. Under Black, it took up the then current fad known as conglomeration, amassing an array of companies with disparate operations. The idea behind the conglomerate was that a collection of diverse entities all under one roof could be worth more than the sum of its parts.
By the late 1960s, most of the mergers taking place in the market were by conglomerates buying up other companies. United Brands’ corporate mash-up included a banana importer, meatpacker, petrochemical maker, telecommunications concern, A&W Root Beer, and the Foster Grant sunglasses brand. For a while, this conglomeration worked.
CEO Black excelled at numbers and dealmaking, but an operating executive he was not. “Eli could not run the company and he was proving it,” McCann wrote. “Increasingly, Black found himself surrounded by managers who were as incompetent as he.”
Black also lacked “a moral anchor,” according to McCann. His elbows were sharp and some saw him as a “pirate,” a profile in the New York Times said. It recounted Black warning an adversary: “If you want to play tough, we can be very, very tough players.”
United Brands soon struggled under its debt load taken on to fund Black’s acquisition. It had to earn $40,000 each day, just to cover the debt. The company generated losses until 1973 when the operations finally began turning around, but catastrophe struck the following year when a group of Central American governments raised taxes on banana exports. United Brands had to pay $11 million in tariffs in just three months because of the increase, contributing to a $40 million company-wide loss in 1974. A devastating hurricane in Honduras and declining meat prices added to United Brands’ woes.
Keen to reduce the company’s crippling banana taxes, in September 1974 Black authorized a secret bribe of $1.5 million to Abraham Bennaton Ramos, the Honduran minister of economy. Another $1 million bribe was to be paid the following year. The return on investment from the $2.5 million payoff would be significant: taxes owed by United Fruit would be slashed by $7.5 million.
But the secret bribe would not remain secret for long.
Early on the morning of February 3, 1975, Eli Black’s chauffeur drove him, as usual, to his United Brands office, news reports said. It was on the forty-fourth floor of what was then called the Pan Am Building, above Grand Central Terminal.
None of Black’s colleagues were at work yet, the New York Times profile noted. He bolted the doors to the reception area and locked his office from the inside. Then, using his oversized briefcase, he smashed a three-by-four-foot hole in one of the windows and jumped to his death. Papers from his attaché floated to the ground; on one scrap, Black had written the words: “early retirement, 55.” Black was fifty-three.
Initial news accounts of the suicide noted that Black had been “under great strain because of business pressures,” working eighteen-hour days. United Brands was running out of cash to meet its debt payments, some insiders said, and Black needed to sell something. Still, Black’s associates and family members doubted that a “secret motive” lurked behind his death; no fraud or debilitating personal debt, for example.
At Black’s funeral in Manhattan, attended by over five hundred people, he was eulogized as a patron of the arts and a man of character. Black “tried to integrate the world of scholars, the world of high morals and the world of practical affairs,” one speaker said. A former teacher characterized Black as “a boy who always smiled but never laughed.”
A few weeks later, the Securities and Exchange Commission, the nation’s top cop on Wall Street, launched an investigation into United Brands. A vague disclosure by the company, noting that it had resolved its banana tax problem, was a red flag to investigators in the SEC’s newly formed enforcement division. It didn’t take long before details about the $2.5 million bribe emerged.
The effects of the revelation were far-reaching. General Oswaldo López Arellano, the president of Honduras, was forced out in a bloodless coup, while in the U.S., a federal grand jury handed down criminal charges against United Brands. Prosecutors identified Black as a principal participant and co-conspirator in the bribe. Three years later, the company pleaded guilty to conspiracy and wire fraud and paid a $15,000 fine, the maximum under the charges.
Congress convened hearings about bribery in corporate America, where Black’s Honduran bribe was discussed extensively. Raymond Garrett, the SEC’s chairman at the time, called improper payments abroad “the lowest common denominator of corporate behavior.”
Finally, lawmakers passed the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act in 1977, outlawing payoffs like those Black had authorized and arranged. The United Brands scandal was just one example of corporations making sketchy payments, but it played a role in the law’s creation.
In his book published a year earlier, McCann recalled the quicksand in which Eli Black had stood at the end of his life. United Brands “was struggling to stay afloat in a sea of debt,” he wrote. “[Black’s] directors were in revolt, his management had lost respect for him, his friends had deserted him, his personal finances were at least as bad as those of the company, his ability to win people’s confidence had disappeared, and he had nowhere left to turn.”
Then McCann opined on Black’s larger legacy. “One good way to kill off a company is to approach it as though it has no life, no age, no spirit, no constituencies that matter,” he wrote. “In other words, to approach it as Eli Black did, as though it were nothing more than numbers.”
Much like the plunderers of today.
—Investigative Reports & Editors]]>
—Publishers Weekly, *starred review*
“Readers will be drawn into the duo’s storytelling, and even those who aren’t financially savvy will be able to grasp the topic. It’s a must-read for all for help in understanding a different side of capitalism.”
—Booklist,*starred review*
“As Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner so lucidly explain, these ‘modern privateers’ simply act as dealers reshuffling marked cards in the deck of American capitalism. In the high stakes game they're playing, it's a deck that's stacked against the rest of us.”
—Shelf Awareness
“The troubled story of private equity, which is anything but equitable…. A well-documented, maddening book that cries out for legislative reform and regulation.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A meticulous and devastating takedown of a powerful force in Western capitalism, infused with just the right amount of indignation at how the powerless bear most of the awful burden.”
—Brad Stone, author ofAmazon UnboundandThe Everything Store
“This is the fourth estate working at its best: explaining to readers an ever-growing number of examples where private equity has extracted wealth, not created it, for the benefit of a privileged few. Done right, PE can play a positive role in our economy. Done wrong, its consequences are ruinous as demonstrated in this must-read book.”
—Sheila Bair,former chair of the FDIC andauthor ofNew York TimesbestsellerBull by the Horns
“These Are the Plunderersis a masterpiece of investigative journalism. Morgenson and Rosner expose nothing less than an organized, merciless, and astoundingly profitable attack on America’s middle class. If you want to understand why Wall Street is booming, good jobs are disappearing, and venerable companies are collapsing, the story is all here. This book names the names and follows the money.”
—Christopher Leonard,New York Timesbestselling author ofKochlandandThe Lords of Easy Money
“A critical and urgent look behind the scenes at the characters and mechanics that increasingly dictate our systems of influence, power, and money. Morgenson and Rosner make the complex legible—and the stakes couldn’t be higher.”
—Mary Childs, co-host of NPR’s “Planet Money” and author ofThe Bond King
“[A] definitive, inside story of how our winner-take-all economy came to be. The private equity billionaires you’ll meet on these fascinating pages are the new robber barons. While the watchdogs were asleep, this investigative journalist and policy analyst show how they plundered America and, at last, hold them accountable. Ida Tarbell would sure be proud of them.”
—Jill Abramson, author ofMerchants of Truthand former executive editor ofThe New York Times]]>
There is no trophy like the Stanley Cup. It has the names of every champion who’s won it engraved on its shining sides. And when it is won, it is presented first to the players, who have fought so hard to raise it above their heads.
The Cup is special in another way, too. Every summer, it goes on a cross-continent tour (sometimes even overseas), visiting every player, coach, and team member who won it that year. Everyone gets their day with the Cup, chaperoned by one of the ever-watchful Keepers of the Cup from the Hockey Hall of Fame to make sure it doesn’t get into too much trouble.
The Cup has been everywhere, from the bottom of a pool at a rock star’s mansion to a ride through the sky above Montreal in a helicopter flown by none other than hockey legend Guy Lafleur. It has served beer and champagne, breakfast cereal for kids, popcorn, and hot dogs. It brings joy to players and fans and inspires awe everywhere it goes.
Veteran sportscaster and bestselling author Jim Lang has interviewed more than thirty players and coaches, and a couple of Keepers of the Cup, to collect these behind-the-scenes stories of the Stanley Cup’s adventures. Each one is special, but they all share strong themes of family and friends, community, gratitude, and the feeling that the greatest achievements in life are best celebrated with others.]]>
— BRIAN BURKE, executive director of the PWHLPA]]>
— RAY BOURQUE, award-winning former professional hockey player and Olympian]]>
— CHRIS NILAN, former professional hockey player and author of Fighting Back]]>
In Soil: The Story of a Black Mother’s Garden poet and scholar Camille T. Dungy recounts the seven-year odyssey to diversify her garden in the predominantly white community of Fort Collins, Colorado. When she moved there in 2013, with her husband and daughter, the community held strict restrictions about what residents could and could not plant in their gardens.
In resistance to the hom*ogenous policies that limited the possibility and wonder that grows from the earth, Dungy employs the various plants, herbs, vegetables, and flowers she grows in her garden as metaphor and treatise for how hom*ogeneity threatens the future of our planet, and why cultivating diverse and intersectional language in our national discourse about the environment is the best means of protecting it.
“Brilliant and beautiful” (Ross Gay, New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Delights), Soil functions as the nexus of nature writing, environmental justice, and prose to encourage you to recognize the relationship between the people of the African diaspora and the land on which they live, and to understand that wherever soil rests beneath their feet is home.]]>
“Fans of Dungy’s poetry will delight in her sparkling prose, and the wide-ranging meditations highlight the connections between land, freedom, and race. It’s a lyrical and pensive take on what it means to put down roots.”—Publishers Weekly
“Instead of the conventional nature narrative, in which an individual—most often White and well-off—communes with nature, Dungy offers a more complex, nuanced story in which the experience of nature is vital but is also entangled with race, national and family history, motherhood, and more. The text is the literary equivalent of the garden Dungy gradually coaxed into being: lively, messy, beset by invasive weeds, colorful, constantly changing, never quite under control, and endlessly interconnected.”—Kirkus Reviews
“InSoil, Dungy plants poems next to memoir next to critical analysis next to environmental history next to African American history, cultivating the radical ecological thought she wants to see more of in the world. This vibrant memoir challenges readers to look beyond the racial and scientific uniformness of most environmental literature and discover the rich wildness and hope that lies all around them.”—BookPage
“Definitive and singular,Soilfunctions at the nexus of nature writing, environmental justice, and prose to encourage you to recognize the relationship between the peoples of the African diaspora and the land on which they live, and to understand that wherever soil rests beneath their feet is home.”—Harvard Book Store
“InSoil, Dungy draws a connection between diversifying the plant life in her garden and diversifying the canon of nature writing.”—NPR
“A poignant portrait of life and its challenges, told through the beauty of nature.”—Library Journal(starred review)
“This book isn’t just a pastoral portrait of the American west. It’s also a window into the care and awareness we bring to the spaces we call home.”—LitHub
“InSoil, [Dungy] creates a lively space for all voices to sprout and become included in the solutions that can help build, rather than tear down, diverse communities, both human and non-human... In another testament to community, Dungy demonstrates the possibility of inspirational and informative environmental literature that calls for our family and loved ones in and throughout.”—The Brooklyn Rail
“This is a smart, beautiful, wide-ranging book that will draw you in and change how you look at the world around you.”—The Southern Bookseller Review
“In her new book,Soil, [Dungy] takes her trowel to the issues of justice, wilderness, brutality, and neighborliness, and the garden that blooms through her sentences is both captivating and sobering.”—The Millions
“A heartfelt and thoroughly enchanting tribute to family and community. Dungy shows us how to tend a garden, and how to tend a full and fragrant life.”—AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL,NYT Bestselling Author ofWorld of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments
“The green of growing things calms me. Plants stabilize me,” Camille Dungy writes in this brilliant and beautiful memoir of her deepening relationship with the earth that necessarily demands she consider questions of family, history, race, nation, and power. Soil demands we witness what erodes or frays or severs the stabilizing roots between us. Let us put our hands in and try to listen.” –Ross Gay,NYT Bestselling Author ofThe Book of Delights
“Gardening, poetry, motherhood, history—dirty and beautiful, difficult and sublime, the agony of failure, the exhalation of a spring bloom. . . Dungy's poetic ear illuminates her language, whether listing botanical names or reflecting on the tumult of the 2020s. A significant, beautiful, meditative, and wholly down-to-earth memoir with high appeal for book groups and nature lovers.”–BOOKLIST(Starred Review)
“Camille Dungy's SOIL is an instant classic. Provocative, beautifully written, and also wildly informative, this memoir cum manifesto asks us to contemplate our responsibility to our land – and each other. I felt transformed by this graceful and generous book.” –Jami Attenberg,Author ofI Came All This Way to Meet You
“With this book Dungy shows, by comparison, how unrooted so many of us are – ecologically, historically, and socially – and makes a poetic case that home is where you know the plants. This poignant, lovely work will make you want to nurture a garden, and all life.” —Ayana Johnson,Co-founder, Urban Ocean Lab
“In Soil, Camille Dungy welcomes us into an abundant, intimate, unfurling space — the exterior landscape of her garden and the interior landscape of her sapience. To dig in the dirt, we learn, is also to dig up and into history, identity, ecology, hope. Dungy shows, by example, how to honor the pain and the possibility of whatever fraught, holy ground we each call home. A deeply life-giving book.” –KatharineWilkinson,Executive Director of The All We Can Save Project
“Camille Dungy is one of the greatest American writers, period. And Soil is her finest work yet. In prose that is personal, political, urgent, and honest, Dungy lays bare the perils of hom*ogeneity —in our gardens and in our communities—and offers powerful reminders of why diversity—that watered-down, defanged buzzword—matters. Soil is a delicate and resilient exploration of gardening, motherhood, memory, love, and what it means to thrive as a Black woman tending her garden, her family, and her career in a white supremacist ecosystem.”–Kate Schatz,NYT-Bestselling author ofRad American Women A-ZandDo the Work: An Antiracist Activity Book
“We are all of the soil. Whether clay, sand, loam or rocky till, each of us arises from it.Camille Dungy's Soil, is the new ground work for growing an illumination of our ties to to the precious earth lain under our feet. From what suffers to grow in her Rocky Mountain backyard, through sketches of Black folk's ties to seed, furrow, mule and hoe, she digs into our soul solum with an artfully conversational style, that's bound to a personal and conversational vulnerability, which firmly links everything important to us, to the fertility underfoot. Herein, Dungy winds Earth's care into human justice and wildness, then tends the story of connections to nature past, present and to come, upward around an awareness of how root, tendril, blossom, bird and bee, make us who we are. Camille is our perennial flower, bloomed again in Soil.”–J. Drew Lanham,Author ofThe Home Place -- Memoirs of a Colored Man's Love Affair with Nature (Milkweed 2016)
“What an intoxicating book. Dungy’s words smell of rot, roots, and blossoms. She brings proof that incantations for nature can come from a yard in a subdivision, and that a family can turn hard soil into life.”–Craig Childs,Author ofHouse of Rain: Tracking a Vanished Civilization Across the AmericanSouthwest]]>
Twin sisters Dot and Dash Wilson share many things, and while they are practically inseparable, they are nothing alike. Dot is fascinated by books, puzzles, and Morse code, a language taught to both girls by their father, a WWI veteran. Dash’s days are filled with fixing engines, dancing with friends, and dreaming of flying airplanes. Almost always at their side is their best friend Gus—until war breaks out and he enlists in the army, deploying to an unknown front.
Determined to do their duty, both girls join the WRENS, Dash as a mechanic and Dot as a typist. Before long, Dot’s fixation on patterns and numbers takes her from HMCS Coverdale, a covert listening and codebreaking station working with Bletchley Park in England, to Camp X, a top-secret spy school. But when personal tragedy strikes the family, Dot’s oath of secrecy causes a rift between the sisters.
Eager to leave her pain behind, Dash jumps at the opportunity to train as a pilot with the Air Transport Auxiliary, where she risks her life to ferry aircraft and troops across the battlefields of Europe. Meanwhile Dot is drawn into the Allies’ preparations for D-Day. But Dot’s loyalties are put to the test once more when someone close to her goes missing in Nazi-occupied territory. With everyone’s eyes on Operation Overlord, Dot must use every skill at her disposal to save those she loves before it’s too late.
Inspired by the real-life stories of women in World War II, The Secret Keeper is an extraordinary novel about the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood and the light of courage during the darkest of nights.]]>
Dorothy Wilson tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and scowled at the mystery novel in her hand. The author’s latest reveal didn’t seem plausible, and it made the character seem so much more dim-witted than Dot imagined he was. On the other hand—
“Dot!”
She glanced up. Her twin sister was leaning over Mr. Meier’s black Chevy truck’s engine, groaning as she stretched for something. Dot could type a mile a minute, add six-digit figures in her head in no time flat, and speak three languages like a native (not including Morse code), but she’d never been interested enough in engines to bother learning what was inside them. She didn’t mind coming out here, though. The garage was poorly lit by one hanging bulb, and the rain outside the closed door chilled the air, but she always liked to be near Margaret.
In contrast to Dot’s navy-blue dress with its spotless Peter Pan collar, her sister was clad in a grease-stained, exceedingly unladylike pair of overalls, and her thick black hair was tied into a haphazard ponytail. Most people shook their head in wonder, seeing how different the Wilson twins were. Different, yes, but also inseparable.
“Yes, Dash?” Dot asked.
Everyone, except their mother, called Margaret by her nickname. Considering the way Dot’s sister always rushed around, it suited her to a T.
Dash twisted around, her cheek smeared by a thick swipe of oil. “You didn’t hear me? I’ve been saying your name for five minutes at least.”
Dot was aware that she missed out on a lot of what people said if she was engaged in a book, but often she felt—somewhat selfishly, she allowed—that whatever they might be saying couldn’t be as interesting as what she was reading. This time, however, she was contrite. Dash was annoyed. Not with her, but with the truck.
“Désolé. Que veux-tu?” she asked. The novel in her hands was a French translation, and sometimes the words overlapped in her head. Her mother had gotten her started on mystery novels a few years back, but this was the first one she’d read that wasn’t written in English. Her father had found the book hidden away in a bookstore and given it to her, knowing she’d enjoy the challenge. She was already wondering where she could find more translations.
“Hand me the half inch, please?”
Setting one finger on the page to hold her place, Dot scanned the scattered assortment of tools on the table beside her. She picked up a wrench, eyed it for size, then placed it in her sister’s hand before returning her attention to the book.
“That should do it,” Dash said to herself, sticking her fingers into the engine and checking the tension of whatever it was before climbing into the driver’s seat. The engine gave a noisy series of clicks, but that was all. “Damn,” she whispered under her breath as she marched back to the hood.
Dot’s mouth twitched. She loved when her sister swore.
She understood Dash’s determination. There was nothing Dot liked better than solving puzzles, and engines were her sister’s idea of puzzles. Her mother often said that Dash’s fascination with mechanics and Dot’s puzzle-solving skills came from their father’s side of the family, then she rolled her eyes and finished with, “Thank heavens you inherited my practicality.” Usually, their father popped in at that point and added “and your beauty,” making their mother glow. Dot figured her mother was right. Her father was a whiz at math, and he almost always had a crossword puzzle going. His brother, her uncle Bob, was a solid man with a devilish grin who always had engine grease under his fingernails.
Uncle Bob, Aunt Louise—Lou for short—and Dot’s cousin Fred came over for dinner often, since they lived close by. Dot still fondly remembered the night more than ten years ago when the whole family had been celebrating the girls’ very first day of school. Her mother had made the grand concession of allowing them to sit at the grown-up table for the evening. At age seven, Fred and Gus were practically adults, so they got to sit there as well. Dorothy was always happy when Fred came over, because he and Gus were friends. It was good, she thought, that Gus had a friend who was a boy, not just Margaret and her.
After supper that night, her mother and aunt had gone to the kitchen, leaving the children with her father and Uncle Bob.
Fred beamed at his father. “Tell Gus about the war and your airplane.”
Uncle Bob obliged, and Gus listened carefully, his eyes wide. Uncle Bob’s voice rose louder and louder as he lost himself in the memory, and Dorothy watched his fist move forward, left, forward, right, shifting in front of him as if he were holding the control stick of his “Canuck.” When at last the doomed enemy plane crashed dramatically into the sea, everyone yelled hooray, and Uncle Bob puffed his chest, pleased with their reactions.
He was a flight instructor now, but back then, he had served with distinction as a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps. Fred loved to remind the girls that Captain Robert James Wilson was on the short list of Canadian flying aces, having shot down sixteen enemy planes.
Dash, who they still called Margaret back then, adored her uncle and hung on his every word. She had wanted to fly her whole life, so when Uncle Bob started to tell his pilot stories, she got stars in her eyes.
Dot loved Uncle Bob, too. Her favourite thing about her uncle, and the only part of him that didn’t intimidate her, was his dashing moustache, its ends waxed to a curly perfection. She was impressed by his exploits, of course, but she was confused. She was almost certain he had told them that he’d shot down fourteen planes, not sixteen. But surely he knew best. She must have simply forgotten. She was only five, after all.
In Dorothy’s view, though, Uncle Bob lived in her father’s quieter shadow. Her father was a gentle man with a thin, out-of-fashion pencil moustache and a postwar habit of constantly checking a door or window. His smiles were quick and self-conscious, and he had very few visitors outside of family. But beneath his understated exterior, he radiated intelligence, and when he did get into a conversational mood, Dot listened to every word. He was, as her mother fondly said, very good at working with his hands, and he kept a small woodworking table in the backyard shed. Two years before, he’d built the sisters a dollhouse for Christmas, complete with tiny furniture, and her mother had sewn two perfect little dolls to fit inside. One had blond hair and wore a grey dress to match Dorothy’s favourite. The other had dark hair and a bright emerald dress, since green was Margaret’s favourite colour. A year after that, her father constructed a bookcase for Dot’s burgeoning collection of books.
Uncle Bob might be a flying ace, but her father didn’t have to fly a plane to be a hero in her eyes.
“Tell us your flying stories, Daddy,” Margaret prodded, and Dot felt a twinge of betrayal. He had flown? Had he kept his history secret from her?
But her father only chuckled, his pale cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t a pilot, Margaret, dear. You mustn’t think I was one of those brave lads. No, no.”
“But you were in the war,” she insisted. “Did you go in airplanes?”
Sometimes Dot thought Margaret was altogether too bossy.
“Yes, I did, but I was not a dashing pilot like your uncle. My job was to sit in the airplane and transmit locations through my Marconi.”
“Macaroni!” Margaret cried, delighted. Beside her, cousin Fred guffawed.
“No, dear,” her father said patiently. “Marconi.”
“What’s that?” Gus asked.
“Marconi was the name of my radio. Operating it was not nearly as exciting as what Fred’s father did.”
Dot leaned forward. Her father rarely spoke about himself, so this was a rare treat.
“Your dad is being too humble,” said Uncle Bob. “You should be proud of him. He held a very important position as a telegraph operator for the Royal Flying Corps. He saved many, many lives by sending locations from the airplane to the military. With that information, they were able to direct artillery fire to that position. He also…” Uncle Bob consulted his brother, and Dot noticed her father scowling slightly. “Well, he wrote regularly to your mother, keeping her happy.”
Dot was intrigued. “How did you do that with the fire, Daddy? If you were in an airplane, how did you tell them?”
“I tapped the coordinates in Morse code, and they reached the receivers on the ground. For example, if we saw a munitions cache, I would do this.”
He tapped his middle finger rapidly on the table in an unpredictable rhythm. To Dot, it sounded like there was a purpose to the uneven taps, as if they were trying to say something.
“Do that again, Daddy!” So he did.
She gaped at him in wonder. “What’s the tap tap tap? What’s it saying?”
“You heard that, did you, my little genius? That is Morse code. It is a different kind of language made up of a series of dits and dahs. Each letter of the alphabet has its own pattern. Listen. I’ll show you your name.” He tapped once slowly, then twice fast. “We call that a dah, then two dits. That is the first letter of your name, Dorothy, which is…?”
She sat up straight, staring at his finger. “D! Do more, Daddy! What’s an ‘O’?”
He tapped three times again, but evenly, and a little slower. “Dah-dah-dah is ‘O.’ When you write it down, it is in dots and dashes.”
“What’s an ‘M’?” she wanted to know. “For Margaret.”
“?‘M’ is dah-dah.”
She beamed at her sister, catching on right away. “Your name starts with dah-dah!” Margaret looked interested, but she was not caught up in her sister’s excitement. “Will you learn with me?”
Margaret’s mouth reluctantly twisted to the side. “Okay.”
Her mother returned from the kitchen, carrying a jiggling dish. “Who would like some Jell-O pudding?”
Margaret squealed with delight. “You made green! I love the green one best, Mommy!”
Aunt Lou followed with the dishes. “Special dessert for a special day. How exciting that you girls get to go to school now!”
Dot sat back, watching her mother serve, but her mind was spinning. “What’s J, Daddy? What’s ‘J’ for, Jell-O?”
He tapped dit-dah-dah-dah.
So began Dorothy’s quest to learn and memorize the Morse code alphabet. She already knew the regular alphabet, of course. Her mother had taught them that two years earlier. Now Dot’s father had given her a key to a whole new puzzle that promised worlds of fun. Day by day she took on more of the patterns, and once they were stuck in her head she went to her father for more.
“First you must learn to spell,” he had told her, pulling out paper and a pencil. “What word would you like to spell?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Sister.”
“All right. Here’s how to spell it in regular letters.” As he wrote out the six letters, they both said them out loud. Then he handed the pencil to her. “How would you tap each letter? Draw it underneath in dashes and dots.”
Pencil grasped tight in her curled fist, Dot drew three little points under each S.
“That’s right. Now the other letters.”
She bit her lip, her mind ticking through everything she had learned and memorized over the past few days. Her pencil pressed against the paper again. “Two dots for ‘I.’ One dash for ‘T.’ Just one little dot for ‘E.’?” She hesitated. “What’s ‘R’? I forget!”
“Think, Dorothy.” He patted her head affectionately. “The answer is right in here.” As if he had brought it to the surface, “R” appeared. “Dit-dah-dit.”
“Excellent! How do you write that?”
“Dot-dash-dot.”
“That’s my girl. Now we put them together to make a word. Show me.”
It was as if a window opened in her mind, and her heart whirred like hummingbird wings. She read the code out loud, tapping with one finger as her father had done. “Margaret is my dot-dot-dot dot-dot dot-dot-dot dash-dot…” She grinned at him. “Dot-dash-dot.”
Morse code bored Margaret within a day or two. She learned it only so she could communicate with Dot, but her heart wasn’t in it. Their father noticed, and instead, he presented her with a small brass cylinder. The metal was tarnished and dented, but the vibrating needle in the centre caught her attention.
“What’s that?”
“This is a compass. It tells you which direction you’re going in.”
Margaret frowned. “Like forward?”
“A little more than that. You see this little needle? It will always point north.”
“North?”
He turned to Dot. “Dorothy, please bring me the map on my desk. The big paper rolled up, with the funny lines on it.”
“I know where that is,” Gus replied from down the hall. A moment later, he and Dot appeared in the dining room with the map. They helped her father spread it out on the table.
“Ah, yes. Thank you,” he said. “This, my dears, is a map of the whole world.”
“The whole world?” both girls exclaimed, their noses almost touching the paper. How fascinating to see it drawn like this, when all they’d ever imagined of the world was grass and trees and sky.
“Gus, have you seen this before?” her father asked.
“In school. A little.”
“What can you show me?”
Gus squinted at the small print, then brightened. “This big part is Canada.”
“Good! And what are these up and down lines?”
“Provinces,” he declared. He jabbed a finger on one. “This is Ontario, where we live.”
“Excellent, Gus. Can you tell me exactly where we live?”
Dot and Margaret stared at Gus, flabbergasted, as he leaned over the map. He noticed their wonder and assured them they would learn it too, in two years.
“We’re learning it right now,” Dot replied, matter-of-fact, “from you.”
“Go ahead, Gus,” her father urged. “Where are we?”
“We are…” He grinned. “Right here!”
“That’s right. That is Oshawa.” Her father slid one finger up the page from the spot Gus had marked, and he faced Margaret. “North is anything in this direction.”
She held the compass up. “Why do I need to know where north is?”
“If you have a compass, you’ll never be lost. I’ll show you.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and presented it to all three children. “I’ve made you an adventure. Dorothy, you will read these Morse code letters to Gus. Gus, you will spell out what she’s saying and pass those directions to Margaret. And Margaret, you will follow the compass. Do you understand? Look again at the compass. What is it pointing at? Remember, ‘N’ means north.”
She frowned at the compass then looked up. “It’s pointing at the picture of Grandfather.”
“Yes! Correct! Grandfather’s picture is north of where you are standing right now. Now out you go, the three of you. Have fun!”
It was a beautiful summer day, with the kind of warm breeze that felt like a kiss. Their mother was hanging laundry on the line, clothespins in her mouth, and she waved at them as they passed.
Dot clutched the paper in her hands, delighted by the puzzle. “Dash Dot-dot-dot-dot Dot-dash-dot…” she read to herself, then out loud she told Gus “T-H-R…”
That led to Gus telling Margaret to take “Three big steps north,” then “four baby steps east.” Margaret’s eyes were glued to the compass, and Dot’s were on the paper. Neither of them saw the big rock that tripped Dot and would have sent her sprawling if Gus hadn’t rushed in and caught her on the way down.
“Good catch!” Margaret said, laughing.
“Thank you, Gus,” Dot said quietly as he set her back on her feet.
His cheeks were bright red. “You’re welcome.”
“Come on, everybody! No dillydallying!” Margaret called, marching on.
At the end of the quest, their father had stashed a little bag of sweets. All three rushed back for another adventure, which he happily produced.
A month or so after that, when it was just the five of them at supper, Dot’s mother set her warm hand on her fingers.
“Please, Dorothy. The tapping is driving me mad.”
“But I’m spelling.”
“I know what you’re doing,” her mother said, smiling with infinite patience. “Let’s leave the spelling until after supper, please.”
From the corner of her eye, Dot saw Gus smiling. At first, she thought he was laughing at her, but then his finger silently tapped the table.
.. / .-.. .. -.- . / .. –
I like it
“My grandmother was named Dorothy,” her father said then, brightening with a thought. “A very intelligent woman. We named you after her, actually. But no one ever called her Dorothy. Do you know what they called her?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“They called her Dot. And it seems to me that if you are so interested in Morse code, we could call you Dot from now on. What do you think?”
Her mother pressed the corner of her napkin to her lips. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“If it was good enough for my grandmother,” he said, “it’s good enough for our daughter.”
“Well,” she said after a moment, “if Dorothy is Dot, then Margaret, with all her exhausting energy and running around, must be Dash.”
All of them howled with laughter at that.
“What about Gus?” Dot asked.
“I just want to be Gus,” he told them.
Her mother held up her hands. “Now, now. I am only being silly. Dorothy and Margaret are perfectly beautiful names. We won’t have any of that nonsense in this house.”
To her disappointment and the girls’ delight, the nicknames had stuck. Everyone but their mother and schoolteachers used them after that day. As far as Dot could remember, the only time their mother ever called them by their nicknames was the night she proposed the idea.
Even now, most people knew them as Dot and Dash, though they were seventeen.
The sound of Mr. Meier’s engine starting up brought Dot back to the present.
“What was the problem?” she asked when Dash turned off the car.
“I must have bumped the battery post,” she replied, wiping her hands on the cloth hanging from her waist. “All’s good now. Fan belt’s perfect. Not too tight to break the bearings, just enough to fix that squeal. Mr. Meier will be happy.”
Dot closed her book and rose, glad to go. “I hope he pays you this time.”
“He doesn’t need to pay me,” Dash said, hauling open the garage door. The rain had eased off, and the last rays of sunshine burst through, resulting in a glorious rainbow. “If Sam was here instead of marching through England, he would have fixed it. It’s the least I can do.”
War was constantly in the news, more sobering by the day, and the mention of Sam Meier brought it all back. The Germans had captured Europe and set their sights on Britain. Then, in December, the conflict had come to America on the wings of Japanese dive bombers—the Aichi D3A, Dash had informed her, since she had recently developed an interest in identifying airplanes—and the Allies breathed a sigh of relief when the horrific bombing of Pearl Harbour forced the Americans into the fight as well. Sam Meier, Gus, and Fred had left to join the fight a year before that happened. In fact, most of the boys from school had signed up and shipped out, making it more and more difficult for Dot to picture the war as something very far away.
“Still. You should be compensated for your work. A man would be paid,” she insisted as they walked. “How many hours have you spent on that truck so far?”
Dot felt confident about this topic. She was paid for her work, after all. Once a week, six students plodded a mile and a half from the Centre Street School to her house for French lessons, for which each child’s mother paid Dot thirty cents an hour. She could have taught them German as well, but she had decided that was probably a bad idea nowadays. Dot was proud of having her very own savings account, and she visited the bank often to keep a close eye on the figures. So far, the only withdrawals she made were her monthly donations of two dollars to the Red Cross.
“You know, there are other ways to earn money.” Dash kicked a rock down the gravel road. “In the city, I mean. I could do that.”
Dot’s step faltered. “What are you talking about? You’d go to Toronto?”
“Lots of girls are working in the city now that the men are gone. Loads are joining the Wrens or the Women’s Army Corps. I could be a driver with them, or maybe a mechanic.” She bit her lower lip, considering. “Of course, there’s the Air Force, too, but the Wrens have such beautiful uniforms.”
Horrified, Dot grabbed her sister’s arm so she stopped in place. “You’re going to the city? To join the army?”
At least Dash had the good grace to look abashed. “Thinking about it. You could come with me.”
Dot couldn’t honestly say she was surprised, but the thought of Dash leaving filled her with anxiety. She knew her sister was restless. What else was there for a beautiful, lively young woman to do in Oshawa, other than hang out at the Four Corners or dance to a band at the Jubilee? Sure, the head office for General Motors Canada was here, but so far they hadn’t replied to any of Dash’s enquiries about work other than to say she was too young. Which was a ridiculous requisite, Dot felt, since her sister could out-mechanic anyone else, no matter their age. Even more ridiculous was that while GM was ignoring Dash, they had offered Dot a sewing job, and she was exactly the same age. Of course, Dot had declined. Dash pretended GM’s rejection didn’t matter. She said they were only making parts there, not fixing engines, which was what she liked to do. Still, Dot knew it hurt.
Without something like GM to hold Dash’s interest, Dot had secretly feared that her sister might be happier in Toronto. She’d never said anything about that out loud, because if Dash left, what choice would Dot have but to follow? Nothing frightened Dot more than the thought of a busy, noisy city full of strangers—except for a busy, noisy city without Dash.
“You’re not really going to go, are you?”
“Why not? We’re almost adults, Dot. It’s time to do something. Aren’t you bored?”
“No.”
Dash narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel bad for wanting more.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Then come with me!”
“How long have you been thinking about this and not telling me?”
“There’s so much you could do in the city,” Dash pressed. “The military would be lucky to have you. You’d have them shipshape in no time.”
Dot dropped her eyes to the wet road. She was happy at home, living a quiet life. The last thing she wanted was change. Especially if that change separated her from her sister.
“What would I do there?”
“Anything,” Dash said, walking on. “Secretary, clerk, telephone operator… Think about it. Working isn’t just interesting, it’s our duty.”
The passion in Dash’s voice made Dot’s heart pound. She caught up to her sister. “I don’t understand,” she said quickly. “What’s so exciting about working in the city? And why is it our duty?”
“Calm down, Dot. You’re talking a mile a minute.”
Her family was always reminding her to speak more slowly. Dot tended to forget that in the heat of the moment. “Why. Is. It. Our. Duty.”
“Because women are a big part of this war now. We have to work so men can fight.”
Dot reluctantly let the idea percolate as they walked. Frankly, she’d prefer to sit out the war at home, but without Dash the house would be so bleak. It might be diverting to be a secretary, she supposed; she liked to type, her shorthand was excellent, and maybe she could help with Morse code. If they let her, she could reorganize files and folders until she was blue in the face. She did love to organize things. Her mother was always thrilled when Dot suggested she could set the kitchen to rights. Maybe whoever she worked for would have a Marconi, like the one her father had told them about. Now that would be interesting.
But no, she couldn’t go. Not only did the thought paralyze her with fear, how could she possibly leave her parents behind? Especially her father. Her mother went out with friends on occasion, but he rarely did. Dot welcomed those nights when she could have him all to herself. When he didn’t have one of his headaches, they would sit contentedly at the kitchen table in near silence, seeing who could solve the crossword first, or they’d set out a new jigsaw, or they’d share whatever other amusem*nt caught their interest. No. Dot couldn’t possibly go to the city and leave him.
Beside her, Dash was skimming a screwdriver under the tip of her nail, cleaning out the dirt. Sensing Dot’s attention, she put her arm around her. “Calm down, silly.”
“When?” Dot demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll go see what it’s all about in a few weeks, I guess. Why wait?”
Dot could think of a hundred reasons.
“It’s going to be fun,” Dash said with confidence. “A big adventure.”
Adventure. Well, that was just about the last thing Dot wanted to think about.
— KRISTIN HARMEL, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Daughter]]>
— BRYN TURNBULL, internationally bestselling author of The Paris Deception]]>
— PAULLINA SIMONS, internationally bestselling author of Light at Lavelle and The Bronze Horseman]]>
— JULIA KELLY, internationally bestselling author of The Lost English Girl]]>
— NATALIE JENNER, internationally bestselling author of Every Time We Say Goodbye]]>
— MADELINE MARTIN, New York Times bestselling author of The Keeper of Hidden Books]]>
— ELLEN KEITH, bestselling author of The Dutch Orphan]]>
— IONA WHISHAW, bestselling author of To Track a Traitor]]>
— C.C. HUMPHREYS, award-winning author of Someday I’ll Find You and Plague]]>
— SARA ACKERMAN, bestselling author of The Unchartered Flight of Olivia West]]>
Barbara Walters was a force from the time TV was exploding on the American scene in the 1960s to its waning dominance in a new world of competition from streaming services and social media half a century later. She was not just a groundbreaker for women (Oprah announced when she was seventeen that she wanted to be Barbara Walters), but also expanded the big TV interview and then dominated the genre. By the end of her career, she had interviewed more of the famous and infamous, from presidents to movie stars to criminals to despots, than any other journalist in history. Then at sixty-seven, past the age many female broadcasters found themselves involuntarily retired, she pioneered a new form of talk TV called The View. She is on the short list of those who have left the biggest imprints on television news and on our culture, male or female. So, who was the woman behind the legacy?
In The Rulebreaker, Susan Page conducts 150 interviews and extensive archival research to discover that Walters was driven to keep herself and her family afloat after her mercurial and famous impresario father attempted suicide. But she never lost the fear of an impending catastrophe, which is what led her to ask for things no woman had ever asked for before, to ignore the rules of misogynistic culture, to outcompete her most ferocious competitors, and to protect her complicated marriages and love life from scrutiny.
Page breaks news on every front—from the daring things Walters did to become the woman who reinvented the TV interview to the secrets she kept until her death. This is the eye-opening account of the woman who knew she had to break all the rules so she could break all the rules about what viewers deserved to know.]]>
“I thought I knew the Barbara who valiantly paved our way and earned her divadom but Susan Page uncovered so much more.” — Connie Chung
"Page’s brilliantly written and researched biography breaks new ground in conveying a fascinating new portrait of an American icon in a book that is impossible to put down. Simply put, as a friend – and sometime competitor – of Barbara Walters, Susan Page’s biography is a triumph.” — Andrea Mitchell
"Susan Page pulls a Barbara Walters -- asking all the right questions, just as personal and sharp as Barbara used to in her xray-penetrating interrogations: how did she land her "gets," how did plot out her interviews, who did she think of she thought of as her rivals (and how she dealt with them)... along with questions about her far less successful personal life." —Lesley Stahl
“A stunning account of Barbara Walters’ journey to change television – and history – as we know it.” — Norah O’Donnell]]>
respectful and balanced portrait of this groundbreaking icon of American journalism." —Booklist (starred review)
“Incisive and evenhanded, this is a triumph.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“…Soars and shines with intriguing story after story about such a legendary life... Page expertly portrays Walters as an important figure in society, but she also shows what made her human.. A definitive and deeply researched biography, likely to be in high demand at all libraries, especially those with book clubs."— Library Journal
"A biography of a woman of rare achievement... perceptive." — Kirkus Review]]>
There’s always a sequel. INKED IN BLOOD 2: ONCE UPON A CRIME picks up the bloody trail left by the debut graphic novel from ICE NINE KILLS. Following the shocking events of the first installment, Heather Thompson and her mother relocated to idyllic Marshscotch, Massachusetts in hopes of building a new life. But the pair can’t escape the past, as a new series of murders unfold, with Spencer Charnas once again a prime suspect. INKED IN BLOOD 2: ONCE UPON A CRIME was written by frequent collaborator Ryan J. Downey, a longtime journalist, alongside Spencer himself. ]]>
Indulge in afternoon tea inspired by the Wizarding World and learn to prepare and enjoy this English tradition with the favorite afternoon repasts of wizards and Muggles from Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to Newt Scamander, Queenie Goldstein, and Jacob Kowalski. Bursting with gorgeous photography of afternoon tea party food, drinks, and sweets, this cookbook offers step-by-step instructions on how to arrange a magical Wizarding World-themed traditional tea.
With more than 50 recipes for clever beverages, enchanting sweets, and savory treats, Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts: Afternoon Tea Magic is the perfect guide to creating a memorable and magical tea party for one, two, or more.
RECIPES FOR ALL SKILL LEVELS: With accessible step-by-step instructions and helpful cooking tips, Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts: Afternoon Tea Magic is a great guide for adult fans of any skill level, from kitchen novices to seasoned chefs
FESTIVE FOOD: More than 50 recipes for teatime offerings from appetizers to main dishes, drinks, and desserts
STUNNING IMAGES: Full-color photography of finished recipes help ensure success
OFFICIALLY LICENSED: Created in collaboration with Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
COMPLETE YOUR COLLECTION: Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts: Afternoon Tea Magic is the newest addition to Insight Editions’ delightful line of Harry Potter-themed cookbooks, including Harry Potter: The Official Christmas Cookbook, Harry Potter: Feasts & Festivities, and Harry Potter: Homemade.]]>
Jody Revenson has written extensively about the Harry Potter films, with her most recent books being Harry Potter: Spells & Charms: A Movie Scrapbook and Harry Potter: Hogwarts: A Movie Scrapbook. In her first foray into the Wizarding World, she edited and contributed to the New York Times best sellers Harry Potter: Film Wizardry and Harry Potter: Page to Screen.]]>
Acclaimed photographer Byran Schutmaat visited the set of Jeff Nichols’ film The Bikeriders to create an extraordinary series of photographs that were inspired by Danny Lyon’s original book. That photography has been combined with the work of unit photographer Kyle Bono Kaplan and cinematographer Adam Stone to create a classic book of photography.
Inspired by Danny Lyon’s seminal 1968 book, The Bikeriders, this powerful drama from director Jeff Nichols (Midnight Special, Mud) follows the rise and fall of a midwestern motorcycle club. Featuring an all-star cast that includes Jodie Comer, Tom Hardy, Austin Butler, Michael Shannon, Norman Reedus and Boyd Holbrook, Nichols’s film is an evocative snapshot of a renegade era. This book provides a unique insight into the making of the movie with exclusive photography, excerpts from the script, an introduction by director Jeff Nichols and contributions from the film’s director of photography, costume designer and production designer.
NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN IMAGERY: Go behind the scenes of The Bikeriders with exclusive photography.
CELEBRATED CAST: The book features imagery of the film’s stellar cast, which includes Jodie Comer (Killing Eve), Austin Butler (Elvis), and Tom Hardy (Mad Max).
ACCLAIMED PHOTOGRAPHERS: The book is built around the photography of the award-winning Bryan Schutmaat, which has been combined with the work of unit photographer Kyle Bono Kaplan and cinematographer Adam Stone.]]>
Feel free to say hello on social media at PixelatedVicka.]]>
You’ve explored the wicked heat of the Sun Furrows, the icy peaks of the Longroam, and the vast, deadly wilds of the Forbidden West. These locales are filled with danger, but are also rich with enough unique cuisines and flavorful foods to prepare a feast fit for a Sun-King! Now you can cook more than 60 of these delicious meals with Horizon: The Official Cookbook.
From spicy Fireclaw stew to mouth-watering Bitterbrew Boar, there’s a dish for everyone in this cookbook. Don’t worry about getting lost in the wilds, because your recipes come with expert insight into the world, the people, and the culinary arts of the 31st century.
ENTICING NEW LORE: As you explore the delicacies of Horizon’s many tribes, you’ll be guided on a journey across Aloy’s world through the eyes of the Forbidden West’s beloved cooks Milduf and Pentalla, written together with Guerrilla’s Narrative team.
60+ DELICIOUS RECIPES: From delectable appetizers to epic entrees, icy refreshments to stomach-warming sides, this cookbook has a recipe for every kind of adventure.
STUNNING PHOTOGRAPHY: Beautiful photos bring the dishes of Horizon to life, inspiring experienced chefs and new adventurers alike
FIRST EVER OFFICIAL HORIZON COOKBOOK: Adventure into the wilds and explore the delicacies of this delicious and dangerous world]]>
Feel free to say hello on social media at PixelatedVicka.
Rick Barba is one of the most published book authors in the videogame industry, with more than 130 game-related titles in print, includingDiablo III: The Official Limited Edition Strategy Guideand the novelXCOM 2: Escalation(Insight, 2017). A graduate of the IowaWriters Workshop, Rick has been on the writing faculty at Santa Clara University and the University of Nebraska Omaha, and has published fiction in numerous literaryjournals such asChicago Review,Black Warrior Review,AQR, and Gordon Lish'sThe Quarterly. He's thrilled that thecontent of his twoStarfleet Academy novels (The Delta AnomalyandThe Gemini Agent) is part of the official Star Trek canon. Rick lives just outside Boulder, Colorado.]]>
The Culinaromancer is back, and he’s bigger and badder than ever. Level up your culinary skills and rescue beloved NPCs with RuneScape: The Official Cookbook! With over 50 recipes inspired by the epic fantasy world of RuneScape and Old School RuneScape, this officially licensed, high-quality cookbook will transform you into a master chef.
Gorgeous full-colour photography, flavourful lore, and step-by-step instructions make this truly immersive experience a recipe for success. Not only will you create iconic dishes from the Recipe for Disaster quest, you’ll find a treasure trove of favourites, including the beloved Baked Potato, Cake (four ways), stackable Purple Sweets, and gnome specialties from Gianne’s Restaurant!
Every purchase comes with a unique code for an exclusive in-game Chef's Outfit to wear in RuneScape*. Cooking never looked this good!
*Chef’s Outfit only available in RuneScape, not Old School RuneScape.
EXCLUSIVE IN-GAME ITEM: Every purchase comes with a unique code for an exclusive in-game Chef’s Outfit to wear in RuneScape. Cooking never looked this good!
50+ RECIPES FOR EVERY OCCASION: Whether you’re levelling up your cooking skills to rival Gianne Snr, prepping a celebration fit for the Falador Party Room, or just in need of good food to give you hit points for the daily grind, this book has enticing, easy-to-make recipes for all occasions.
EXPERIENCE RUNESCAPE LIKE NEVER BEFORE: Relive favourite characters, quests, locations, and scenes from RuneScape and Old School RuneScape—from cooking over an open fire to making a pizza or mixing up a Gnome co*cktail, you’ll bring Gielinor to life. You might even learn how to make burnt shrimp tasty!
ALL SKILL LEVELS WELCOME: Whether you’re just earning your first XP or you’re already a master chef, this cookbook has all the recipes you never knew you needed.
IMMERSIVE RUNESCAPE EXPERIENCE: This book is packed with RuneScape and Old School RuneScape lore and gameplay references, perfect for fans old and new.
FIRST-EVER RUNESCAPE COOKBOOK: For the first time, the delicious, iconic recipes of Gielinor are available to explore and create in your own home.]]>
Jarrett Melendez grew up on the mean, deer-infested streets of Bucksport, Maine. A former chef and line cook, Jarrett has worked in restaurants, diners, and bakeries throughout New England and Mexico, and got instruction on Japanese home cooking from some very patient host mothers when he lived in Tokyo and Hiroshima. He’s been a professional writer since 2009, but started working as a recipe developer and food writer in 2020. His work has appeared on Bon Appétit, Saveur, Epicurious, and Food52, and he is the author of The Comic Kitchen, an upcoming fully illustrated, comic-style cookbook. When not cooking and writing about food, Jarrett is also an award winning comic book writer. His best known work isChef’s Kissfrom Oni Press, which won the Alex Award from the American Library Association, along with a GLAAD award nomination for Outstanding Graphic Novel. Jarrett has contributed to the Ringo-nominatedAll We Ever Wanted,Full Bleed,Young Men in Love, andMurder Hobo: Chaotic Neutral. He is currently working onTales of the Fungo: The Legend of Cep, a middle-grade fantasy adventure, to be published by Andrews McMeel. He lives in Massachusetts with his collection ofMonokuro Booplush pigs.]]>
Return of the Jedi didn’t just conclude the original Star Wars trilogy—its themes, structure, and emotional core paved the way for some of the most compelling elements of modern Star Wars storytelling. Filled with photography and concept art, this book celebrates all things Return of the Jedi, while also examining its ties to modern Star Wars stories such as The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett, The Clone Wars, and beyond. Covering essential aspects of Return of the Jedi, this book further examines the film’s legacy by showcasing the movie’s merchandise, novels, comics, and spinoffs.
REDISCOVER THE THRILLS OF RETURN OF THE JEDI: This deluxe coffee table book presents the story of Return of the Jedi in a fun and exciting format, with plenty of facts about the production of the film. From the enduring eccentricities of Jabba the Hutt’s palace, to the climactic showdown between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, this book explores fan-favorite moments from the beloved movie.
A BOUNTY OF SPECIAL ITEMS AND INTERACTIVE FEATURES: Gatefolds, booklets, and other interactive features add a new level of insight to this celebration of the iconic film.
CELEBRATE THE LEGACY OF AN EPIC CONCLUSION: Going beyond the production of Return of the Jedi, this book explores forty years of merchandise, books, comics, and spinoffs, including Caravan of Courage: An Ewok Adventure, Ewoks: The Battle for Endor, and the animated Ewoks television show.
AN IDEAL GIFT FOR ALL FANS: Return of the Jedi has timeless appeal among movie-goers and aficionados, making this book the perfect gift for the Star Wars fan in your life.
COMPLETE YOUR COLLECTION: This book joins Insight Editions’ library of exciting Star Wars titles, including Star Wars: The High Republic: Chronicles of the Jedi, Star Wars: The Lightsaber Collection, and Star Wars: The Secrets of the Wookiees]]>
Clayton Sandell is a television news correspondent and co-author ofStar Wars Timelines. His feature stories have taken audiences beyond the gates of Skywalker Ranch and inside Lucasfilm’s Industrial Light & Magic and Skywalker Sound. He co-produced the ABC News documentaryThe Force of Sound, a behind-the-scenes look at the sound design ofThe Last Jedi.
S. T. Bende is a young adult and children's author, known for the Norse mythology series Viking Academy and The Ære Saga. She's also written books for Disney and Lucasfilm. She lives on the West Coast where she spends far too much time at Disneyland, and she dreams of skiing on Jotunheim and Hoth. Website: www.stbende.com.]]>
The world of RuneScape is filled with places to explore, people to meet, skills to master, monsters to battle, and quests to complete. Make sure that your adventures are remembered and keep track of activities and XP gains with this gorgeous, officially licensed hardcover journal!
With sturdy binding and high-quality paper, this journal is tough enough for even the wildest quests.
192 RULED PAGES: Lined pages for notes, memories, and adventuring plans.
MIGHTY QUALITY: With sturdy construction and high-quality heavy-stock paper, this journal will withstand many a journey through Gielinor and beyond.
RIBBON MARKER & ELASTIC CLOSURE: Bookmark and elastic closure keep your notes safe and easy to return to.
STUNNING COLLECTOR’S ITEM: New and old-school fans alike can treasure this gorgeous, high-quality journal and the art within.]]>
For the first time ever, learn the secrets of the Party Planning Committee in the only officially endorsed cookbook and party planning book based on the beloved hit show The Office.
Host an authentic New England garden party with James Trickington’s “helpful” tips and tricks, throw a holiday party with Angela Martin’s double fudge brownies, or set the stage for the perfect dinner party with Osso Buco and Serenity by Jan candles. This re-released cookbook puts the food front and center, sets the stapler in the Jell-O, and provides the perfect pairing of games and decor for any type of event. Inspired by the hit NBC series’ beloved characters and their hilarious shenanigans, this book puts you at the head of your very own party planning committee!
45+ RECIPES INSPIRED BY THE OFFICE: This re-released cookbook has been restructured to highlight more than 45 recipes, from appetizers to desserts, inspired by the beloved sitcom
STUNNING PHOTOS: Includes gorgeous full-color photos of recipes to help ensure success, as well as beloved moments from the series
THE ONLY OFFICIALLY LICENSED, ONE OF IT'S KIND: Designed and written in close partnership with NBC Universal and the show creators, this is the only officially licensed cookbook for fans of The Office
RECIPES FOR ALL SKILL LEVELS: With accessible step-by-step instructions and helpful cooking tips, The Office: The Official Party Planning Guide to Planning Parties is a great guide for fans of any age and skill level, from kitchen novices to seasoned chefs]]>
Marc Sumerakis an Eisner and Harvey Award-nominated writer whose work has been featured in comics, books, and video games showcasing some of pop culture's most beloved franchises, including Marvel, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Firefly, Ghostbusters, Back to the Future, and many more. Most recently, he has been writing the story for the award-winning mobile game,MARVEL Future Revolution.
Anne Murlowski is a digital marketer, avid party planner, and crafter.]]>
Out There presents the story and recipes of Lee Kalpakis, a professional cook who returned home to the Catskill Mountains after 14 years in New York City to live in an off-grid camper in the woods.
Along with delicious, sophisticated recipes, Lee shares how to get the most out of an unconventional kitchen. This is a guide for pairing down kitchen clutter and stocking up a versatile pantry while maximizing the efficiency of any small cooking space.
50+ RECIPES: Delicious and beautiful recipes for entertaining--in the wild--from a professional chef and food stylist
ADVENTURE: Adventure-style dishes include open fire entrees, batch co*cktails, one pot meals, and the perfect backpacking food
EXPERT TIPS: Lee shares practices she's learned through her time out in the woods to help others who love to cook in the great outdoors]]>
If life had its own GPS system, navigating it would be a far less stressful slog. Alas, we suffer this pothole-filled dirt road alone… guideless. Thankfully, there’s one thing more knowledgeable and dependable than a GPS, and that’s a Gay Icon!
From Beyonce to Betty White, and RuPaul to David Bowie, no one understands the highs and lows, loves and losses quite like a gay icon. Featuring inspiring and entertaining quotes and dynamic illustrations of the icons who said them, you'll find these musings priceless, refreshing, and relatable... even if they're coming from Oscar-winners, music legends, and fashion royalty.
MORE THAN 70 ICONS are featured in this all-star collection of quotes and illustrations, including Judy Garland, Madonna, Cher, Ariana Grande, Billy Porter, Bowen Yang, and Leslie Jordan.
ACCLAIMED ARTIST: Peter Emmerich has worked with such clients as Dreamworks and The Walt Disney Company, and provides his signature style to the illustrations in The Gay Icon’s Guide to Life.
PITHY PREAMBLES: Michael Joosten, the author of My Two Moms and Me and Pride 1 2 3, provides hilarious context to each of the icons’ impactful quotes.
“So perfect and Gay!!!”
- Eric Williams, host of That’s a Gay Ass Podcast
(@ericwillz / @gayasspodcast)
“This little book of iconic-ness . . . I love it so much!”
- Frank Socha of @franksforeword]]>
Peter Emmerich is the illustrator of A Is for Audra: Broadway's Leading Ladies from A to Z, B Is for Broadway: Onstage and Backstage from A to Z, and It’s Raining Tacos. He has worked with DreamWorks and the Walt Disney Company, for which he illustrated the U.S. Postal Service's "Art of Disney" stamp series.]]>
From there, Hearst was invited to cook at the famous James Beard House and would later become a semifinalist for a James Beard Award. During her years in NYC, she received many accolades in the food industry such as Zagat’s 30 under 30, Forbes 30 under 30, and Star Chefs. She was a featured chef in the James Beard award-winning book, Notes From A Kitchen, and also appeared on multiple TV shows; most notably Iron Chef, where she made history as the youngest contestant to ever compete on the show]]>
Harnessing the growing trend of hobby farms, farmettes, community plots, and home gardens, Emma Hearst sets out to simplify the complex world of growing and utilizing seasonal produce in this farm-fresh cookbook. From choosing seeds to making use of microseasons to creating quick and vibrant meals, Fresh from the Kitchen Garden encourages home cooks to maximize the flavor of home-grown vegetables, fruits, and more along with and choice farmers’ market selections. The ingredient-driven recipes include easy vegetal soups with beans and peas, crisp salads with shoots and microgreens, small plates with juicy tomatoes and eggplants, and other healthy, just-harvested produce.
Managing a 60+-acre farm with over 250 varieties of vegetables, fruit, flowers, and herbs in the middle of the sprawling suburban neighborhoods of New York, Hearst—a former chef and James Beard–award finalist, is uniquely positioned to impart her wisdom to an ever-expanding base of home cooks looking to take charge of their food.
You'll find spirited options like a sungold tomato gimlet, a chapter on the art of salad featuring ten fantastic salad dressings like tahini and honey pickles, and a robust chapter dedicated to savories and hors d'oeuvres. Throughout the book Emma shares the farm's ethos and her entertaining know-how via engaging narrative essays on subjects like a great way to eat cheese, how to nail an interactive snacking platter, and herbaceous drinks
Enjoy 100+ recipes that capture the seasons, emphasize eating well, and are suited for entertaining from garden-driven batch co*cktails to shareable cruidite platters, seasonal salads, pastas, meats, and more for eating and gathering with friends and family.]]>
From there, Hearst was invited to cook at the famous James Beard House and would later become a semifinalist for a James Beard Award. During her years in NYC, she received many accolades in the food industry such as Zagat’s 30 under 30, Forbes 30 under 30, and Star Chefs. She was a featured chef in the James Beard award-winning book, Notes From A Kitchen, and also appeared on multiple TV shows; most notably Iron Chef, where she made history as the youngest contestant to ever compete on the show]]>
The award-winning country star, John Denver was once described as a complicated man who wrote simple songs. In Rocky Mountain Highway, close friend and videographer, Lowell Norman reveals rare stories and never-before-seen photos of a John Denver that is at turns familiar and shockingly unexpected. He recounts the emotional live performances and the challenges of shooting such a big star. He describes in harrowing detail the frightening experience of being harassed by gun wielding soldiers with Denver on his tours of Africa for The Hunger Project. He tells the riveting story of dangling from a helicopter with a video camera while the intrepid singer tried to swim with humpback whales in the Pacific Ocean. Rocky Mountain Highway is a celebration of a young man following the dreams of a talented artist who was misunderstood by many and gone before his time.]]>
Exceed your reading goals with The Ultimate Romance Reading Challenge! This collection of 25 prompts inspires readers to embrace their romantic side and explore all the romance genre has to offer.
Reading prompts include:
--Read a book with an enemies-to-lovers premise
--Read a romance novel with a protagonist much older than you are
--Read a romance novel published in the year you were conceived
--Read a romance novel featuring an LGBTQ+ character
The Ultimate Romance Reading Challenge encourages reading habits that help to inspire new ideas and creativity, in your reading life and beyond.
REWARDED FOR READING!: Each prize is thoughtfully curated to supplement the reading life. Readers will enjoy bookish greeting cards, a mini notebook, stickers, unique bookmarks, and more!
FOR SEASONED ROMANCE READERS AND NEWBIES TO THE GENRE: From YA to Historical, Emily Henry to Nora Roberts, open door to closed—whatever your mood or taste, this challenge is for you!
DIVERSIFY YOUR READING: In completing each unique challenge, you can find ample inspiration to step outside your reading comfort zone and diversify your reading list.
EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION: Complete your collection with the first of this challenge series, The Ultimate Reading Challenge, and continue the reading fun for any kiddos in your life with The Ultimate Reading Challenge for Kids!]]>
The establishment of Gaudiya Vaishnavas in the Braj region catalysed a novel movement centered around the devotion to Radha and Krishna. This movement, in turn, spurred construction of the Madan Mohan, one of the most significant and prominent temples in the area during the Mughal reign. In the late 16th and early 17th centuries, each temple emerged as a distinct exemple of Mughal artistry, showcasing a seamless integration of diverse architectural components and novel experimentation.
The Madan Mohan temple stands as a remarkable testament to the confluence of social, economic, and political forces that transcended regional boundaries during the zenith of Mughal dominance.]]>
“[A] winning adult debut…” –Publishers Weekly
Elise Hellman was once heralded by audiences and critics as a “playwright to watch.” Then they forgot all about her. When a prestigious theater company unexpectedly offers her a generous commission to write a new play, she has an opportunity to turn her career around. With sixty-five days left until her deadline, Elise starts scribbling a few pages of stream-of-consciousness first thing every morning as a way to get over her writer’s block—a technique called Morning Pages, popularized in Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way.
What emerges is a witty confessional in which Elise chronicles her life with her teenage stoner son and her overbearing and eccentric mother, who is losing her memory but not her profanity. She writes about her lingering feelings for her ex-husband, her best friend who is acting oddly, and the confusing encounters she has with a handsome stranger in an elevator.
As she writes, the marked-up scenes from her play, Deja New, are revealed, as a story within the story.
Morning Pages is about what life throws at you when you’re trying to write. It is both a humorous exploration of the creative process and a relatable coming-of-age tale for the generation sandwiched between caring for their parents and caring for their kids.]]>
“This is an extraordinarily imaginative and compelling exploration of love, death, race, and patriotism with countless unusual twists to keep the reader guessing. Thorough research and stylish execution make for a striking tour de force.” —Kirkus Review (Starred Review)
“One part historical fiction, one part romantic fable, I thoroughly enjoyed this truly unique, mythic, multi-cultural journey.” –Jamie Ford, New York Times bestselling author of The Many Daughters of Afong Moy
When American WWII bombardier Micah Lund dies on a mission over Japan, his spirit remains trapped as a yurei ghost. Dazed, he follows Kiyomi Oshiro, a war widow struggling to care for her young daughter, Ai, as food is scarce, work at the factory is brutal, and her in-laws treat her like a servant. Watching Kiyomi and Ai together, Micah’s intolerance for the enemy is challenged. As his concern for the mother and daughter grows, so does his guilt for his part in their suffering.
Micah discovers a new reality when Kiyomi and Ai dream—one which allows him to interact with them. While his feelings for them deepen, imminent destruction looms. Hiroshima is about to be bombed, and Micah must warn Kiyomi and her daughter.
In a place where dreams are real, Micah races against time to save Kiyomi and Ai, while battling the old beliefs he embodied as a soldier and his idea of family.
In the Realm of Ash and Sorrow is a tale about love in its most extraordinary forms—forgiveness, sacrifice, and perseverance against impossible odds.]]>
Karmela Waldman is an eighty-something psychotherapist and Holocaust survivor. Her son, Joel Waldman, is a successful broadcast journalist. After a discontented Joel chooses to leave his network-news job, he gets a crazy idea for the next step in his career: What if he and his elderly mom did a podcast together?
The two embark on creating a show together and name it Surviving the Survivor. Things get off to a bumpy start as the lovingly dysfunctional mother-son duo struggle to figure out the art of podcasting on the fly—sometimes feuding, sometimes laughing, and finally mastering the format and watching Surviving the Survivor break out as a wildly popular true-crime hit.
Along the way, the two discover things about each other that they never knew. Joel is stunned to learn that Karmela survived World War II by hiding in a boys’ Catholic school. Karmela also sheds light on the emotional struggles she endured when Joel’s older brother, Rami, died of an incurable illness. She’s also struggling with the inevitable loss of her husband of sixty-three years, which she describes as the most difficult experience of her life.
Mastering podcasting is one thing; figuring out the meaning of life is a challenge of an entirely different order. In real time and “on air,” mother and son engage frankly and movingly with each other for the first time as adults, discussing child-rearing, aging, illness, death, and the secrets to enjoying life no matter how complicated it gets.]]>
Patricia grew up in a religious community-turned-cult in the Boston area. At the age of seventeen, she was forced out of her home, leaving behind her entire family, and without access to higher education. From her first job as a receptionist at a brokerage firm, she clawed her way up the ladder—rung by rung—in that bastion of male chauvinism: Wall Street. By going to college at night, she achieved her degree in economics from Boston University, and from there, she headed to New York City. With a drive that earned her the moniker “Witch of Wall Street,” she rose from the ranks of research analyst to portfolio manager, where she was responsible for billions of dollars in pension and endowment assets. A turning point in her life was giving birth to twins at the age of forty-five, and she continued forward in her career, becoming a global partner at Invesco. At the turn of the millennium, she left Wall Street behind and embarked on a second career as a corporate board director.]]>
Writing as Richard Castle, Tom originated the hit Nikki Heat series, writing its first seven novels, all New York Times bestsellers, including Heat Rises, which reached number one. Later, he published Buzz Killer under his own name, because Stephen King was already taken.
Tom dropped out of UCLA to become a DJ, and soon after, a TV weathercaster. Subsequently, he began a television writing career on comedies including Night Court, for which he earned two WGA “Best Comedy Writer” nominations and a Primetime Emmy nomination. Tom served as head writer and executive producer of Dave’s World, Grace Under Fire, Whoopi, and Nurse Jackie. He also wrote for CBS’s Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. Seems like Tom Straw can’t keep a job.]]>
When the CIA approaches celebrity chef Sebastian Pike about using his award-winning food and culture travel show as cover for espionage, the outspoken bad-boy host says no. When they point out how roaming the globe interviewing foodies, heads of state, rock stars, journalists-in-exile, poets, subversives, supermodels—even the pope—gives him perfect cover, Pike smiles and says, “F@#! no.”
They push. Promising it’s only one mission. Vowing he won’t be in danger. Calling him the MVB: Most Valuable Bystander. They’d embed their top agent in his crew to do the spy work.
It’s still no. But when they hit him with the patriotism card, he weakens. And when romantic sparks crackle between him and the female agent, Pike’s all in, kicking off a romantic spy thriller in which the globetrotting celebrity chef uses his TV series to help sneak Putin’s accountant out of Russia before he’s exposed as a mole for US intelligence.
The high-stakes mission quickly puts Pike in harm’s way. So much for MVB. There’s danger, there’s double dealing, there’s torture, there’s shooting with real bullets. Plus, a minefield of complications from the hot romance that grows between Pike and his gutsy CIA handler-producer, Cammie Nova.
From Paris to Provence, this chef is no bystander. Beyond their attraction, Pike and Nova become an operational team, not only to survive the perils they face but to pull off an operation fraught with one twist after another, capped by a shocking, emotional climax.]]>
Writing as Richard Castle, Tom originated the hit Nikki Heat series, writing its first seven novels, all New York Times bestsellers, including Heat Rises, which reached number one. Later, he published Buzz Killer under his own name, because Stephen King was already taken.
Tom dropped out of UCLA to become a DJ, and soon after, a TV weathercaster. Subsequently, he began a television writing career on comedies including Night Court, for which he earned two WGA “Best Comedy Writer” nominations and a Primetime Emmy nomination. Tom served as head writer and executive producer of Dave’s World, Grace Under Fire, Whoopi, and Nurse Jackie. He also wrote for CBS’s Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. Seems like Tom Straw can’t keep a job.]]>
You’ve read piles of books that promised you “ten steps to happiness,” but how many of those have actually worked? Instead, those books give you more to do and don’t provide what you’re looking for. They require you to use your mind when the key to finding inner peace, self-love, happiness, and fulfillment lies in connecting to the soul.
How to Trust Your Inner Voice doesn’t offer routines to add to your already busy schedule. Instead, it offers a simple and accessible explanation for how our mind blocks us from accessing our own personal GPS system, the soul. The soul knows what to do, always. But the events and conditioning from our childhood, the dominant values of our culture, and our habitual thought patterns pull us away, creating depression and anxiety and making it hard for us to hear our inner guidance. You don’t have to live this way!
Written for anyone who is struggling with confusion, depression, anxiety, or general unhappiness in life, How to Trust Your Inner Voice will empower and guide you to quickly and easily renew your natural connection to your true self and your inner guidance anytime and anywhere so that you can live in the state of peace and happiness that is your birthright.]]>
Tom currently serves on the Board of Directors and the Executive Committee of the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston and on the Board of Trustees of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. He funded a scholarship that actively seeks disadvantaged students to attend St. Francis de Sales High School in Toledo—the school that generously gave him a scholarship and that he credits for helping him fulfill his dream of attending a top college. He has worked across the globe, has lived in five countries, and has traveled to over one hundred.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, four children, three dogs, and a cat.]]>
“A terrific and moving memoir about dreaming big and making great things happen.” —President Bill Clinton
“Read it and be inspired.” —Deepak Chopra, New York Times bestselling author
On Bronson Street, in the projects of Toledo, Ohio, in a crowded house occupied by a family of fourteen, Tom Seeman starts a very important list. Just as the trash-strewn field in his backyard is home to a treasure-trove of wild animals, Tom’s list, “Animals I Want To See One Day,” is home to dreams of adventure in places far away from the downtrodden neighborhood where he lives. But for all its hardship and crime, Bronson Street is also something of a mythical street, populated by unforgettable people who share food, protect each other, and give surprising gifts of beauty and merriment, proving that the bonds of community and friendship (often across racial and social lines) can bridge any divide and transcend what many of us are taught to believe about each other.
A luminous coming-of-age memoir that shimmers with countless marvels, Animals I Want To See tracks Tom Seeman’s journey from a child janitor with big ambitions to a teenage petty criminal to a student at Yale and Harvard. At once a meditation on finding wonder in unlikely places, an ode to a heroic mother who makes the seemingly impossible possible, and an exploration of what it means to create our own identities, this is a heartwarming, thought-provoking, ultimately uplifting book for all readers.]]>
Tom currently serves on the Board of Directors and the Executive Committee of the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston and on the Board of Trustees of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. He funded a scholarship that actively seeks disadvantaged students to attend St. Francis de Sales High School in Toledo—the school that generously gave him a scholarship and that he credits for helping him fulfill his dream of attending a top college. He has worked across the globe, has lived in five countries, and has traveled to over one hundred.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife, four children, three dogs, and a cat.]]>
A veteran public speaker, Peggy has participated in over fifty global events, from exclusive board meetings to premier industry conferences. She is active on social media, and you can follow her work onSubstack,LinkedIn,Apple Podcast,andYouTube.]]>
Who wouldn’t want MORE out of their life? More success, more money, more happiness, more passion. For most of us, though, this MORE is elusive. No matter how hard you’ve tried, you never seem to get there; there is always something missing.
That doesn’t have to be the case anymore. MORE! The Microdose Diet gives you a step-by-step 90-day plan to reclaim your power and your life. By using alternative medicines such as microdosing psychedelics, tapping, visualization, and journaling, you will feel MORE alive than ever before, aligned with the level of success, passion, and happiness you deserve but have never been able to obtain or sustain.
This tried-and-true program is fast and easy to implement—and more importantly, it works. After experiencing great transformation herself thanks to "The Microdose Diet" protocol, Peggy Van de Plassche decided to share her knowledge with a global audience.
You too can reclaim the life and success you deserve by fully expanding your wings and finally achieving your potential.]]>
A veteran public speaker, Peggy has participated in over fifty global events, from exclusive board meetings to premier industry conferences. She is active on social media, and you can follow her work onSubstack,LinkedIn,Apple Podcast,andYouTube.]]>
Beyond the thorough coverage of preparation and integration processes in microdosing, Peggy meticulously covers critical aspects such as dosage, scheduling, and setting intentions, providing readers with a detailed framework for their microdosing journey. Furthermore, Peggy introduces readers to a range of supportive tools such as journaling, tapping, and guided visualization, tools designed to enhance the microdosing experience.
The Microdose Diet is an excellent guide that balances scientific insight with practical advice. It's a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the transformative potential of microdosing in a controlled manner."]]>
Soon after, he turned his attention to the world of business, integrating memory training with a strategic approach to planning and business management. In 1997, he earned the rank of Grandmaster of Martial Arts Philosophy and trained numerous regional, national, and world champions—including Andrew Gainer, a three-time world champion in full-contact freestyle competition.
For the last twenty years he has been consulting for Laguna Components in California, which is a prime contractor for JPL/NASA that has provided electronic components for numerous JPL/NASA projects, including the recent Mars orbiter, lander Perseverance, and helicopter Ingenuity. Currently, they are working on the Europa project.]]>
Attitude is at the heart of all human behavior and interaction, which has a significant bearing on positive outcomes. Attitude is fundamental to perception and one’s responses to the world. Attitudinal improvement is the single best investment you can make in life because of its direct impact on future outcomes. In The Attitude Equation, you’ll hear from some of the most successful people today, outlining the roadmap others can take toward personal and professional success.
“Attitude is one of the most powerful forces affecting human behavior and outcomes. By defining such a simple formula—Attitude x Behavior = Consequence—Dr. Jim Samuels and Mark Schulman have created a simple blueprint to allow you to drive desirable outcomes in your life. And if you reverse engineer the formula by deciding on the consequences you want to achieve, then you can more clearly see the behavior that would create those consequences and the attitude(s) you would need to generate the appropriate behavior. You get thirty-nine interviews with some of the great thinkers on the planet, giving examples of their experiences supporting this formula. This book is a declaration of the absolute power of attitude!” —Josh Linkner, 5x tech entrepreneur, New York Times bestselling author, venture capital investor, jazz musician
The Attitude Equation is an indispensable collection of conversations with leaders in a variety of fields, from bestselling authors to musicians, to actors and directors, that are as entertaining as they are enlightening, shedding light on the key adjustments to attitude that led them to be successful. Featuring Judd Apatow, Grant Cardone, Martina Navratilova, Matt Sorum, Bonnie St. John, Howie Mandel, and many more.
“The Attitude Equation is a practical guide for getting us closer to peak performance with each passing day.” —Jared Kleinert, TED speaker, award-winning author, and USA Today’s “Most Connected Millennial"]]>
Jim Samuels holds a PhD in Psychology from Greenwich University. He began helping others improve their memories as a teenager in 1962. He has spent the succeeding years developing and refining his applied philosophical approach to human development. His development of the SORTing™ methodology in 1975 introduced a robust set of techniques that individuals can use to release lifetimes of unresolved stress while greatly increasing their understanding and self-awareness.
Soon after, he turned his attention to the world of business, integrating memory training with a strategic approach to planning and business management. In 1997, he earned the rank of Grandmaster of Martial Arts Philosophy and trained numerous regional, national, and world champions—including Andrew Gainer, a three-time world champion in full-contact freestyle competition.
For the last twenty years he has been consulting for Laguna Components in California, which is a prime contractor for JPL/NASA that has provided electronic components for numerous JPL/NASA projects, including the recent Mars orbiter, lander Perseverance, and helicopter Ingenuity. Currently, they are working on the Europa project.]]>
Potential: an oft-used word that is both enticing and elusive—enticing because it is a “thing,” an “energy” that draws us forward, and elusive because it is often not realized amidst the clamor and stress of busy work and busy lives.
In Potential, Pam August cuts through the noise and makes potential real, relevant, and relatable, teaching how to amplify your impact by connecting the potential—within yourself as an individual, between you and your relationships, and around you in organizations. Synthesizing her learning from a decades-long career in higher education, leadership, team, and organizational development, Pam weaves stories, insights, and practical actions into an engaging experience with immediate and lasting results.
In a complicated and complex world where we are often strained, stressed, and stuck, it is possible to have energy, ease, and effectiveness—no matter the circ*mstance or the challenge.
And what if connecting potential was both simple and powerful? It can be! All you need is ONE mindset shift, ONE operating system, ONE core practice, and THREE dimensions of exponential impact. This is the promise that Potential delivers on.]]>
From Invisible to Icon: How to Become a Known Expert in Your Industry is a timeless guide to personal branding that has captivated readers since its original publication in 2013. Now, in its revised and expanded edition, this book takes you on a transformative journey, empowering you to transcend invisibility and emerge as an influential figure in your field. Unveiling powerful strategies and insights, this comprehensive resource equips you with the tools needed to craft a compelling personal brand that resonates with your target audiences. Whether you’re an aspiring professional or a seasoned veteran, From Invisible to Icon paves the way for your success, helping you harness your unique strengths, amplify your voice, and leave an indelible mark on your industry. Get ready to unlock your full potential and embark on a path toward becoming a true icon in your field.]]>
From Invisible to Icon: How to Become a Known Expert in Your Industryis a timeless guide to personal branding that has captivated readers since its original publication in 2013. Now, in its revised and expanded edition, this book takes you on a transformative journey, empowering you to transcend invisibility and emerge as an influential figure in your field. Unveiling powerful strategies and insights, this comprehensive resource equips you with the tools needed to craft a compelling personal brand that resonates with your target audiences. Whether you’re an aspiring professional or a seasoned veteran,From Invisible to Iconpaves the way for your success, helping you harness your unique strengths, amplify your voice, and leave an indelible mark on your industry. Get ready to unlock your full potential and embark on a path toward becoming a true icon in your field.]]>
• Includes 78 full-color cards portraying both Major and Minor Arcana through colorful depictions of female archetypes, animal guides, and esoteric symbolism
• Shares unique in-depth card interpretations that draw on spiritual and magical teachings from indigenous healers, shamans, witches, magicians, and wisdom teachers from all over the world
• Includes new and unusual card spreads for readings and short practical exercises to help awaken your inner witch
Inviting you to experience the magical and empowering world of the tarot, this 78-card deck portrays both Major and Minor Arcana through colorful depictions of female archetypes, animal guides, and esoteric symbolism from witchcraft, alchemy, and shamanic healing traditions.
In the comprehensive guidebook, Rosie Björkman, known in Sweden as “Jolanda the Witch,” shares unique in-depth card interpretations that draw on spiritual and magical teachings from indigenous healers, shamans, witches, magicians, and wisdom teachers from all over the world, including Madame Blavatsky, Aleister Crowley, and the Sweet Medicine healing tradition of the Deer Tribe Metis Medicine Society. Björkman’s interpretations include direct and reversed meanings for each card, easy-to-remember keywords, and symbolic and healing stories to help you intuitively understand the wisdom of each card. She also includes new and unusual card spreads for readings and short practical exercises to help awaken your inner knowing and think about and relate to life in a magical way.
Illustrated by Hans Arnold, internationally known for his illustrations, especially of fairy tales, the playful card art allows you to instantly grasp the energetic meaning of the cards drawn and intuitively understand the issue at hand.
Offering a hands-on way to learn card divination and magic together, this set seamlessly blends tarot with witchcraft, shamanism, occult science, and indigenous storytelling to present a magical, spiritual path for awakening to your own inner wisdom.]]>