A magnificent, vast, and enthralling saga, Sena Jeter Naslund's Ahab's Wife is a remarkable epic spanning a rich, eventful, and dramatic life. Inspired by a brief passage in Moby Dick, it is the story of Una, exiled as a child to live in a lighthouse, removed from the physical and emotional abuse of a religion-mad father. It is the romantic adventure of a young woman setting sail in a cabin boy's disguise to encounter darkness, wonder, and catastrophe; the story of a devoted wife who witnesses her husband's destruction by obsession and madness. Ultimately it is the powerful and moving story of a woman's triumph over tragedy and loss through her courage, creativity, and intelligence.
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With Texasville, Larry McMurtry returns to the unforgettable Texas town and characters of one of his best-loved books, The Last Picture Show. This is a Texas-sized story brimming with home truths of the heart, and men and women we recognize, believe in, and care about deeply. Set in the post-oil-boom 1980s, Texasville brings us up to date with Duane, who's got an adoring dog, a sassy wife, a twelve-million-dollar debt, and a hot tub by the pool; Jacy, who's finished playing "Jungla" in Italian movies and who's returned to Thalia; and Sonny -- Duane's teenage rival for Jacy's affections -- who owns the car wash, the Kwik-Sackstore, and the video arcade.
One of Larry McMurtry's funniest and most touching contemporary novels.
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Sixteen-year-old Mattie Gokey has big dreams but little hope of seeing them come true. Desperate for money, she takes a job at the Glenmore, where hotel guest Grace Brown entrusts her with the task of burning a secret bundle of letters. But when Grace's drowned body is fished from the lake, Mattie discovers that the letters could reveal the grim truth behind a murder.
Set in 1906 against the backdrop of the murder that inspired Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy, Jennifer Donnelly's astonishing debut novel effortlessly weaves romance, history, and a murder mystery into something moving, and real, and wholly original.
Includes a reader's guide and an interview with the author.
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From the #1 bestselling author of The Historian comes an engrossing novel that spans the past and the present and unearths the dark secrets of Bulgaria, a beautiful and haunted country.
A young American woman, Alexandra Boyd, has traveled to Sofia, Bulgaria, hoping that life abroad will salve the wounds left by the loss of her beloved brother. Soon after arriving in this elegant East European city, however, she helps an elderly couple into a taxi and realizes too late that she has accidentally kept one of their bags. Inside she finds an ornately carved wooden box engraved with a name: Stoyan Lazarov. Raising the hinged lid, she discovers that she is holding an urn filled with human ashes.
As Alexandra sets out to locate the family and return this precious item, she will first have to uncover the secrets of a talented musician who was shattered by oppression and she will find out all too quickly that this knowledge is fraught with its own danger.
Kostova's new novel is a tale of immense scope that delves into the horrors of a century and traverses the culture and landscape of this mysterious country. Suspenseful and beautifully written, it explores the power of stories, the pull of the past, and the hope and meaning that can sometimes be found in the aftermath of loss.
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A deeply evocative story of ambition and betrayal, The Paris Wife captures a remarkable period of time and a love affair between two unforgettable people: Ernest Hemingway and his wife Hadley.
Chicago, 1920: Hadley Richardson is a quiet twenty-eight-year-old who has all but given up on love and happiness—until she meets Ernest Hemingway and her life changes forever. Following a whirlwind courtship and wedding, the pair set sail for Paris, where they become the golden couple in a lively and volatile group—the fabled “Lost Generation”—that includes Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.
Though deeply in love, the Hemingways are ill prepared for the hard-drinking and fast-living life of Jazz Age Paris, which hardly values traditional notions of family and monogamy. Surrounded by beautiful women and competing egos, Ernest struggles to find the voice that will earn him a place in history, pouring all the richness and intensity of his life with Hadley and their circle of friends into the novel that will become The Sun Also Rises. Hadley, meanwhile, strives to hold on to her sense of self as the demands of life with Ernest grow costly and her roles as wife, friend, and muse become more challenging. Despite their extraordinary bond, they eventually find themselves facing the ultimate crisis of their marriage—a deception that will lead to the unraveling of everything they’ve fought so hard for.
A heartbreaking portrayal of love and torn loyalty, The Paris Wife is all the more poignant because we know that, in the end, Hemingway wrote that he would rather have died than fallen in love with anyone but Hadley.
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It's late summer 1793, and the streets of Philadelphia are abuzz with mosquitoes and rumors of fever. Down near the docks, many have taken ill, and the fatalities are mountain. Now they include Polly, the serving girl at the Cook Coffeehouse. But fourteen-year-old Mattie Cook doesn't get a moment to mourn the passing of her childhood playmate. New customers have overrun her family's coffee shop, located far from the mosquito-infested river, and Mattie's concerns of fever are all but overshadowed by dreams of growing her family's small business into a thriving enterprises. But when the fever begins to strike closer to home, Mattie's struggle to build a new life must give way to a new fight -- the fight to stay alive.
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Der mit allen Wassern der Fabulierkunst gewaschene Schelm Baudolino erzählt uns seine Lebensgeschichte.
Informationen über die historischen Hintergründe zu »Baudolino« finden Sie im Special des Carl Hanser Verlags ...
Konstantinopel brennt! Die prachtvolle Hauptstadt des Byzantinischen Reiches – erobert, geplündert und in Brand gesetzt von den Rittern des Vierten Kreuzzuges. Einer von ihnen ist ein gewisser Baudolino aus dem Piemont. Den Kopf voller Flausen, Phantasien und Lügen, führt er uns durch ein historisches Panorama von überwältigender Breite.
Er erzählt, wie er als 13jähriger Bauernsohn den im Nebel herumirrenden Kaiser Barbarossa aufgabelt, der Gefallen an dem naseweisen Jungen findet und ihn daraufhin adoptiert; wie er den Kaiser auf seinen Italienzügen gegen die aufmüpfigen oberitalienischen Städte begleitet und auf den großen Kreuzzug ins Heilige Land, immer auf der Suche nach dem mythischen Reich des Priesterkönigs Johannes im fernen Orient. Und natürlich wie er, Baudolino, mit seinen aberwitzigen Ideen ganz nebenbei den Lauf der Weltgeschichte lenkt, ob nun bei der Heiligsprechung Karls des Großen 1165 oder bei der Erfindung der Legende der Heiligen Drei Könige, um dem Erzbischof von Köln, Rainald von Dassel, einen überwältigenden Einzug in seine Domkirche zu sichern.
Alles hat Baudolino miterlebt, doch ein Geheimnis kennt nur er ganz allein: Barbarossa, der angeblich im Fluß ertrank, ist mysteriöserweise bereits in der Nacht zuvor ums Leben gekommen. Unfall? Herzversagen? Nein, Mord! Baudolino ahnt, wer der Mörder sein könnte …
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A breakout suspense novel from the award-winning author of The Haunting of Maddy Clare.Vermont, 1950. There's a place for the girls whom no one wants—the troublemakers, the illegitimate, the too smart for their own good. It's called Idlewild Hall. And in the small town where it's located, there are rumors that the boarding school is haunted. Four roommates bond over their whispered fears, their budding friendship blossoming—until one of them mysteriously disappears. . . . Vermont, 2014. As much as she's tried, journalist Fiona Sheridan cannot stop revisiting the events surrounding her older sister's death. Twenty years ago, her body was found lying in the overgrown fields near the ruins of Idlewild Hall. And though her sister's boyfriend was tried and convicted of murder, Fiona can't shake the suspicion that something was never right about the case.When Fiona discovers that Idlewild Hall is being restored by an anonymous...
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"The body you are wearing used to be mine." So begins the letter Myfanwy Thomas is holding when she awakes in a London park surrounded by bodies all wearing latex gloves. With no recollection of who she is, Myfanwy must follow the instructions her former self left behind to discover her identity and track down the agents who want to destroy her.
She soon learns that she is a Rook, a high-ranking member of a secret organization called the Chequy that battles the many supernatural forces at work in Britain. She also discovers that she possesses a rare, potentially deadly supernatural ability of her own.
In her quest to uncover which member of the Chequy betrayed her and why, Myfanwy encounters a person with four bodies, an aristocratic woman who can enter her dreams, a secret training facility where children are transformed into deadly fighters, and a conspiracy more vast than she ever could have imagined.
Filled with characters both fascinating and fantastical, THE ROOK is a richly inventive, suspenseful, and often wry thriller that marks an ambitious debut from a promising young writer.
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King, warrior, and lover Brian Boru was stronger, braver, and wiser than all other men-the greatest king Ireland has ever known. Out of the mists of the country's most violent age, he merged to lead his people to the peak of their golden era.His women were as remarkable as his adventures: Fiona, the druidess with mystical powers; Deirdre, beautiful victim of a Norse invader's brutal lust; Gormlaith, six-foot, read-haired goddess of sensuality.Set against the barbaric splendors of the tenth century, this is a story rich in truth and legend-in which friends become deadly enemies, bedrooms turn into battlefields, and dreams of glory are finally fulfilled. Morgan Llywelyn has written one of the greatest novels of Irish history.
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Boston. 1865. A small group of elite scholars prepares to introduce Dante's vision of hell to America. But so does a murderer. The literary geniuses of the Dante Club - poets and Harvard professors Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Dr Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell and publisher J. T. Fields - are finishing America's first translation of The Divine Comedy. The powerful old guard of Harvard College wants to keep Dante in obscurity, believing that the infiltration of such foreign superstitions will prove as corrupting as the immigrants invading Boston Harbor. The members of the Dante Club fight to keep their sacred literary cause alive, but their plans fall apart when a series of murders erupts through Boston and Cambridge. Only this small group of scholars realises that the gruesome killings are modelled on the descriptions of Hell's punishments from Dante's Inferno. With the police baffled, lives endangered and Dante's literary future at stake, the Dante Club must shed its sheltered literary existence and find a way to stop the killer.
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"I have no doubt this will end up being the best fantasy debut of the year [...] I have absolutely no doubt that [Kuang's] name will be up there with the likes of Robin Hobb and N.K. Jemisin." — BooknestA brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China's twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu's Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin's Inheritance Trilogy.When Rin aced the Keju—the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies—it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn't believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin's guardians, who believed they'd finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her...
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The witching hour has arrived in bestselling author H. P. Mallory’s captivating and sexy new novel, starring the most dazzling denizen of the undead, Jolie Wilkins. Funny and feisty witch Jolie Wilkins is back—or rather, she’s back to her humble beginnings. Propelled into the past to her old Los Angeles fortune-telling shop, Jolie has no idea she possesses extraordinary powers, and she definitely doesn’t remember becoming Queen of the Underworld. But at least she has two incredibly sexy men vying for her affection: Rand Balfour, who looks very familiar, though Jolie can’t place his gorgeous face, and Sinjin Sinclair, who is tall, dark, and perfect . . . except for the fangs.Yet despite her steamy love life, Jolie can’t shake the sense that something is not quite right—like she’s stuck in a déjà vu gone terribly awry. As both men race against time—and each other—to win Jolie’s heart, the fate of the Underworld hangs in the balance. And Jolie’s decision can either restore order or create an absolute, drop-dead disaster.From the Paperback edition.About the AuthorH. P. Mallory is the author of the Jolie Wilkins series as well as the Dulcie O’Neil series. She began her writing career as a self-published author and after reaching a tremendous amount of success, decided to become a traditionally published author and hasn’t looked back since.H. P. lives in Southern California with her husband and son, where she is at work on her next book. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.9780345531568|excerptMallory / THE WITCH IS BACKOneWhen the phone rang at ten minutes to seven, I wasn’t surprised. Nope, I figured that Sinjin Sinclair, the most handsome and charming man who had ever stepped into my life, had probably just come to his senses and realized he didn’t want to take me out for dinner after all. Maybe he’d suffered from a slight brain freeze the night before when he’d been awaiting roadside assistance at my tarot‑card‑reading shop, and that was why he’d asked me out.So when he phoned to say he was lost, I was surprised—not so much that his navigational skills were lacking but that he actually wanted to go through with this. Okay, I know what you’re thinking—that I must look like a troll, or something equally heinous . . . Well, I’m not a troll by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m also not the girl who stands out in a crowd. I’m more the girl next door—or at least I live down the street from the girl next door.Okay, I’m probably being a little too hard on myself because I have been told that I’m attractive and I know I’m smart and all that stuff, but I’m still nowhere near Sinjin Sinclair’s league.But back to the phone call. After Sinjin said he would be at my door shortly, I hung up and then stood in the center of my living room for a few minutes like a space cadet, gazing at the wall until I’m sure I looked like a complete and total moron.But while it might have appeared that nothing much was going on in that gray matter between my ears, appearances can be deceiving. Thoughts ramrodded my brain, slamming into one another as new ones were born . . . What am I doing? What am I thinking? What do I possibly have to talk about with a man as cultured and refined as Sinjin Sinclair? Moreover, how am I going to eat in front of him? What if I choke on an ice cube? Or I sneeze after taking a mouthful of salad and spray carrot chunks all over his expensive clothes?Jolie Wilkins, calm down, I finally said to myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. You are going to go on this date because if you don’t, you’re never going to forgive yourself. And, furthermore, Christa will most definitely murder you.I inhaled another deep breath and forced myself out of my self‑inflicted brain coma, starting toward the mirror as I took stock of myself for the umpteenth time in the last hour. Christa, my best friend and self‑proclaimed fashion advisor, had left twenty minutes ago after chastising me about my current getup. Yes, she’d tried to force me into what amounted to shrink‑wrapping, complete with stiletto heels that were so narrow, they could double as weapons. Then, after that attempt had failed, she’d tried to get me to go with a flame‑red corset dress that was so tight, I couldn’t walk—and breath- ing was out of the question. So yes, I’d defeated the raunchy‑clothing demon but I couldn’t say I felt very good about my victory.I sighed as I took in my shoulder‑length blond hair and the fact that the curl Christa had wrestled into it only minutes before was already gone. It could be described as “limp” at best. My makeup was nice, though—Christa had managed to talk me into a smoky eye, which accented my baby blues, and she’d also covered the freckles that sprinkled the bridge of my nose while playing up my cheekbones with a shimmery apricot blush. She’d lined my decently plump lips in a light brown and filled them with bubble‑gum‑pink lipstick, finishing them with a pink gloss called “Baby Doll.”There was a knock on my front door, and I felt my heart lurch into my throat. I took another deep breath and glanced at my reflection in the mirror again, trying not to focus on the fact that I was anything but sexy in a black amorphous skirt that ended just below my knees, black tights, and two‑inch heels. Even though my breasts are decently large, you couldn’t really tell in my gray turtleneck and black peacoat.Maybe I should have listened to Christa . . .Another quick knock on the door signaled the fact that I was dawdling. I pulled myself away from my reflection and, wrapping my hand around the doorknob, exhaled and opened it, pasting a smile on my face.“Hello,” I said, hoping my voice sounded level and even‑keeled, because the sight of Sinjin standing there just about undid me. A tornado was rampaging through me, tearing at my guts and wreaking havoc with my nervous system.“Good evening,” the deity before me spoke in his refined, baritone English accent. His eyes traveled from my eyes to my bust to my legs and back up again as a serpentine smile spread across his sumptuous lips.“Um,” I managed, meaning to add a How are you? to the end of it, but somehow the words never emerged.Sinjin arched a black brow and chuckled as I debated slamming the door shut and hiding out in my room for the next, oh, two years, at least.“You look quite lovely,” he said, with that devilish smile as he pulled his arm forward and offered me a bouquet of red roses. “These pale in comparison.”My hand was shaking and my brain was on vacation as I reached for the roses, but somehow I did manage to smile and say, “Thank you, they are really beautiful.”The beauty of the roses didn’t even compute, though— my overwhelmed mind was still reeling from the presence of this man. Man didn’t even do him justice; he seemed so much more than that—either heaven‑sent or hell’s emissary.He was wearing black, just as he had been the night before. His black slacks weren’t fitted, but neither were they loose—in fact, they seemed tailored to his incredibly long legs. And his black sweater perfectly showcased his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Even though his body and intimidating height would have been worth writing home about, it was his face that was so completely alluring.Sinjin’s eyes should have been the eighth wonder of the world. They were the most peculiar color—an incredibly light blue, most similar to the blue‑green icebergs you might find in Alaska or the Alpine waters of Germany. They almost seemed to glow. His skin was flawless, neither too pale nor too tan, without the kiss of a freckle or mole.His hair was midnight black, so dark that it almost appeared blue. Tonight it looked longer than I remembered. The ends curled up over his collar, which was strange considering I’d only met him the day before and I could have sworn he had short hair. But the strangest thing about this enigmatic man was that I couldn’t see his aura . . .I’ve been able to see people’s auras for as long as I can remember. An aura is best described as a halo‑type thing that surrounds someone—it billows out of them in a foggy sort of haze. If someone is healthy, his or her aura is usually pink or violet. If someone is unwell in some way, yellow or orange predominates. I had never before met anyone who didn’t have an aura at all or whose aura I couldn’t see. And what surprised me even more was the fact that I hadn’t noticed his missing aura the first time I’d seen him . . . Of course I had been pretty overwhelmed by his mere presence—and that dazed feeling didn’t seem like it was going to go away anytime soon.“May I escort you?” he asked as he gave me another winning smile and offered me his arm.I gulped as I tentatively wrapped my hand around his arm, trying not to notice the fact that he was really . . . built. Good God . . .“Thanks,” I said in a small voice as I allowed him to lead me outside.“Are you forgetting something?” Sinjin asked as he glanced down at me.“Um,” I started and dropped my attention to my feet, attempting to take stock of myself.Shoes are on, purse is over my shoulder, nerves are present and accounted for . . . the only thing I’d forgotten was my confidence, which was currently hiding beneath my bed.Sinjin stopped walking and turned around. I followed suit and noticed that the door to my modest little house was still open—gaping wide as though it was as shocked as he was that I’d forgotten to shut it.“Oh my God.” I felt my cheeks color with embarrassment. It had to be pretty obvious I’d completely forgotten how to function in his presence. I separated myself from him and hurried back up my walkway, shaking my head at my inattention. Anxiety drumming through me, I closed and locked the door behind me.“Shall we try this again?”I jumped, shocked that he was suddenly right beside me. I shook the feeling off, figuring that he must have been trailing me all along. But still, there was something . . . uncanny about it, something that set off my “Spidey” senses. I blamed it on my already overwhelmed nerves.“Yes,” I said with an anxious laugh as he offered his arm again and I, again, took it. This time we made it to the curb, where a black car awaited us. So angular it almost looked like a spaceship, it was the same vehicle he’d been driving the night before when he’d gotten a flat tire and had asked to use my phone. He opened the door for me and I gave him a smile of thanks as I seated myself, glancing over at the steering wheel where I recognized the emblem of a Ferrari.A Ferrari . . . seriously?I had to pinch myself. This just wasn’t real—it couldn’t be real! I mean, my life was composed of TV dinners and reruns of The Office. My only social outlet, really, was Christa. Men like Sinjin Sinclair with...
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From the acclaimed author of Secrets of a Charmed Life and A Bridge Across the Ocean comes a new novel set in Philadelphia during the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918, which tells the story of a family reborn through loss and love.In 1918, Philadelphia was a city teeming with promise. Even as its young men went off to fight in the Great War, there were opportunities for a fresh start on its cobblestone streets. Into this bustling town, came Pauline Bright and herhusband, filled with hope that they could now give their three daughters—Evelyn, Maggie, and Willa—a chance at a better life.Their dreams are short-lived. Just months after they arrive, the Spanish Flu reaches the shores of America. As the pandemic claims more than twelve thousand victims in their adopted city, they find their lives left with a world that looks nothing like the one they knew. But even as they lose loved ones, they take in a baby orphaned by the disease who becomes...
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