Set in San Francisco in the late 1950s, Humpty Dumpty in Oakland is a tragicomedy of misunderstandings among used car dealers and real-estate salesmen: the small-time, struggling individuals for whom Philip K.Dick always reserved his greatest sympathy.
Jim Fergesson is an elderly garage owner with a heart condition, who is about to retire; Al Miller is a somewhat feckless mechanic who sublets part of Jim's lot and finds his livelihood threatened by the decision to sell; Chris Harman is a record-company owner who for years has relied on Fergesson to maintain his cars. When Harman hears of Fergesson's impending retirement he tips him off to what he says is a cast-iron business proposition: a development in nearby Marin County with an opening for a garage. Al Miller is convinced that Harman is a crook, out to fleece Fergesson of his life's savings. As much as he resents Fergesson he can't bear to see it happen and--denying to himself all the time what he is doing--he sets out to thwart Harman. Views: 633
Marina had So Much To Tell You. Now it's Lisa's turn.
While writing in a journal for class, Lisa gradually reveals her own personal feelings and concerns, while describing relationships with and problems of other girls at her boarding school. Views: 632
A riveting novel featuring forensic anthropologist Tempe Brennan—a story of infanticide, murder, and corruption, set in the high-stakes, high-danger world of diamond mining.
A woman calling herself Amy Roberts checks into a Montreal hospital complaining of uncontrolled bleeding. Doctors see evidence of a recent birth, but before they can act, Roberts disappears. Dispatched to the address she gave at the hospital, police discover bloody towels outside in a Dumpster. Fearing the worst, they call Temperance Brennan to investigate.
In a run-down apartment Tempe makes a ghastly discovery: the decomposing bodies of three infants. According to the landlord, a woman named Alma Rogers lives there. Then a man shows up looking for Alva Rodriguez. Are Amy Roberts, Alma Rogers, and Alva Rodriguez the same person? Did she kill her own babies? And where is she now?
Heading up the investigation is Tempe’s old flame, Homicide Detective Andrew Ryan. His counterpart from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police is Sergeant Ollie Hasty, who happens to have a little history with Tempe himself, which she regrets. This unlikely trio follows the woman’s trail, first to Edmonton, and then to Yellowknife, a remote diamond-mining city deep in the Northwest Territories. What they find in Yellowknife is more sinister than they ever could have imagined. Views: 632
The Virals are put to the ultimate test when they find a geocache containing an ornate puzzle box. Shelton decodes the cipher inside, only to find more tantalizing clues left by "The Gamemaster." A second, greater geocache is within reach—if the Virals are up to the challenge.
But the hunt takes a dark turn when Tory locates the other box—a fake bomb, along with a sinister proposal from The Gamemaster. Now, the real game has begun: another bomb is out there—a real one—and the clock is ticking. Views: 632
In the stories that make up Oblivion, David Foster Wallace joins the rawest, most naked humanity with the infinite involutions of self-consciousness--a combination that is dazzlingly, uniquely his. These are worlds undreamt-of by any other mind. Only David Foster Wallace could convey a father's desperate loneliness by way of his son's daydreaming through a teacher's homicidal breakdown ("The Soul Is Not a Smithy"). Or could explore the deepest and most hilarious aspects of creativity by delineating the office politics surrounding a magazine profile of an artist who produces miniature sculptures in an anatomically inconceivable way ("The Suffering Channel"). Or capture the ache of love's breakdown in the painfully polite apologies of a man who believes his wife is hallucinating the sound of his snoring ("Oblivion"). Each of these stories is a complete world, as fully imagined as most entire novels, at once preposterously surreal and painfully immediate. Views: 632
A discarded mirror brings more than just everyday reflections. Part of the 'From Elsewhere' collection - six short stories about unearthly visitors.A discarded mirror brings more than just everyday reflections. Who, or what, stares back at Penny as she gazes into an old mirror? Is it a hallucination...or portent of death?Part of the From Elsewhere short story collection - six tales of unearthly visitors.From Elsewhere includes:“The Long View” - One woman’s reflections on the life she has left behind. But is all as it seems?“The Hearing” - A guardian angel is put on trial by the man he is duty bound to protect.“Forbidden” - A story about the most illicit of love affairs: the secret passion between an angel and a demon.“The Foundling” - Who or what exactly has appeared on the doorstep an old woman’s cottage in Ireland?“Grey Eyes In Silver” - A discarded mirror brings more than just everyday reflections. Views: 632
If passing through youth
was like crossing the mirage of life for Chandra and Nithya, it proved to be
chasing the mirage of love for Sathya and Prema though for plain Vasavi,
Chandra's pitiable sibling, it was the end of the road.As life brings Chandra,
who suffers from an inferiority complex for his perceived ugliness, and Nithya,
who was bogged down being jilted by Vasu, together, they script their fate of
fulfillment.And as poetic justice
would have it, Sathya, who caused Prema's heartburn, himself was led down the
garden path by Kala, doing a Sathya on Sathya.Just not that, life has
in store just deserts for Vasu owing to Nithya's retribution as he tries to
stalk her. Besides, after many a fictional twist and turn, the way the story
ends, challenges the perception that fact is stranger than fiction.Sign Posts to CrossShackles on PsycheEnd of the TetherBurden of FreedomOnto the TurfRespite by DeathLessons of LifeNaivety of LoveDilemma of DisclosurePerils of YouthAbsurd ProposalCrossing the MirageSetting the PaceOasis of BlissBusy bees in HoneycombTwist in the TaleLove in the BindTurn for the WorseShadows to the ForeSpurring on to ErrTempting the FateStooping to ConquerFouling the SoulPoetic JusticeAgony of PenitenceEmbrace of LoveLife of a KindJust desertsBook excerpt for a feel of its literary style:Shackles on PsycheYouth is the mirror that tends us to the reality
of our looks. The reflections of our visages that insensibly get implanted in
our subconscious lend shape to our psyche to define the course of our
life. This is the saga of Chandra’s chequered
life that mirrors this phenomenon in myriad ways.As perceived by the deprived, he had a fortunate
birth. Yadagiri, his father, was the prominent pearl merchant in Hyderabad - Deccan,
the seat of the Nizam’s power in undivided India. The patronage of the royals
and the nobles alike, helped add gloss to his pearls making him the nawab of
the trade. Besides, Princely Pearls, his outlet near the Charminar, was a draw
with the rich, out to humor their wives and adorn the mistresses. When
Anasuya, Yadagir's wife, was expecting her second issue, trouble brewed in
Telangana, the heart of the Nizam’s province. While his subjects' surge to free
themselves from his yoke clashed with the Nizam’s urge to keep his gaddi,
Sardar Patel's plans for a pan India was at odds with his designs to retain the
Deccan belt as his princely pelf.‘With a go
by to the nobility,’ Yadagiri tried to envision his future, ‘it could be
shutters down at the Princely Pearls.’Thus, at the prospect of the momentous merger,
even as the populace got excited, he was unnerved perceiving a slowdown in his
trade. Confounding him further, as the impending merger was on the cards,
Anasuya's delivery time neared .‘Should it
be a girl again,’ he thought, ‘it would be only worse. Why, without a boy, what
of the surname?’Soon, as his wife was moved to the hospital, he
was rattled by the prospect of her delivering another daughter. But, as it
turned out, his fears proved to be liars on both counts.Anasuya delivered Chandra, the very day the
Nizam, courtesy Sardar, capitulated to the Delhi sarkar. And soon, the nouveau
riche, from the business class, began to outshine the old nobility, pearl
for pearl. Buoyed by the bottom line, Yadagiri dreamt of building a pearl
empire for his son in the Republic of India. While Anasuya lavished upon
Chandra the affection due to a son born after one gave up, Vasavi, his sister,
running ten then, found in her brother a soul to dote upon. Thus, toasted by
his parents and pampered by his sibling, Chandra had a dream childhood.But, when he entered adolescence, the realities
of life began to confound him to his discomfort. Coaxed by his father to excel
at studies, he was perplexed for the lack of aptitude. What's worse, the antics
of his classmates made him hapless -- they marginalized him at playtime, for
his lack of reflexes, and, for want of grace, targeted him at fun-time. Well,
to cap it all, the snide remarks of the have-nots, that he chose his father
well, induced in him a vague sense of inadequacy.As if all this was not enough for his tender
psyche to cope up with, he had to contend with the sternness of the paternal
strictness. Thus, it was only time before the seeds of alienation towards his
father were sown in his impressionable mind. But the support he got from his
sister and the solace he felt in his mother’s lap helped soothe his ruffled
feelings a little. In time, he reached the threshold of youth, but couldn’t
cross the despair of adolescence.Oblivious of the possibilities of life, man goes through
his journey of disarray, in the itinerary of the past, chasing the mirages of
malady even amidst the sands of hope. And that despairs him forever.Into his puberty, as his biology induced in him
sexual curiosity, owing to his ungainliness, his youthful urge for reciprocity
remained unfulfilled. Being naïve to the feminine nuances, his eyes couldn’t
comprehend the emanations of their indifference. When in dismay, as he turned
to the mirror for a clue, the reflections of his self-doubts stared him in his
face. Yet, goaded by desire, he ogled women but to no avail. And as he went
back to the mirror to reassess his self-worth, the craft of man wouldn’t oblige
where nature’s device deluded him. Thus, being in a limbo, he came to be
haunted for being unwanted.Besides, as his sexual urge got augmented, his
eyes became the instruments of dissection of the maiden form. Though bowled
over by females, he was unable to interest them himself. Intrigued by their
manner, he turned his focus onto those to whom they were drawn. And soon he
realized that though the nominators of female admiration varied, the common
denominator of male appeal appeared to be the dashing.As a corollary to his discovery, he shed his
inhibitions and psyched himself to make a pass at a fancied lass. But in a
reproach, governed by vanity, she said that she doubted his acquaintance with
the looking-glass. Sadly, that fatal tease came to shape his outlook about his
own looks to his detriment. Disdained thus, he shunned maidens and mirrors
alike.Once when his father reprimanded him for his
unkempt hair, he entrusted its upkeep to his sister’s care. And as she said, in
jest, that his porcupine hair needed tins of oil to be tamed, as a way out he
went for a crew cut. Though it was in the fashion then, he invited ridicule of
all for the same reason. Belittled thus, he became a recluse.Perturbed by his proclivities, Anasuya alerted
Yadagiri who dismissed it all as the tentativeness of youth, and advocated patience
to let it pass. Unconvinced though, Anasuya suborned her female instinct for
‘action’ to the ‘inaction’ of her master’s wisdom. But, as Chandra began to
even lose his appetite, her motherly love could take it no more. Thus, she took
her son to the family physician and, on prescription, put him on Liv-52.As that too failed to enhance her son’s appetite,
the mother was at a loss, and it showed. However, the women of the neighborhood
read it all wrong and gossiped on that count.“An unwed daughter of twenty-eight,” opined a
sympathetic soul, “surely is a sore.”“No less an eyesore,” said another.“What can be done,” said a fair-skinned, “when
the girl is so dark?”“Don’t tell me,” said a know-all. “She got her
chances but Yadagiri rode the high horse then.”“That’s the trouble with us,” philosophized a
bluestocking. “We aspire for more than we can hope for. Wanting the very best
is a bad idea but failing to see what the best one can get is even worse.”Unmindful of the gossip that reached her in its
magnified form, Anasuya broached the subject of Chandra’s condition with that
lady philosopher who professed herself as an amateur psychologist. Having read
the brief, the lady of letters diagnosed the malaise as a case of ennui and as
for the remedy, she prescribed a course in fiction for him.It’s thus amidst his class books, the Zolas with
the Gogols, that Anasuya slipped in, started gracing Chandra’s study. Unable as
he was to concentrate on his studies, he began browsing through them as a way
of distraction only to end up delving deep into the fictional world pictured in
them. Soon, as he was seized with novels in their scores, their fictional
aberrations helped him analyze his own shortcomings. But what really hooked him
to the novel was the ego gratification it afforded him in judging the
characters portrayed in it. What's more, the empathy he felt for the fictional
figures brought the latent sympathy he had for his sibling to the fore. This,
in turn, abetted self-pity in his consciousness.Well, Vasavi remained single, not by choice.
While nature deprived her of a whetting visage, her upbringing failed her in
imbibing aplomb. Besides, Yadagiri’s attitude towards matchmaking didn’t help
her cause either. No sooner would a well-meaning proposal come forth than he
would dismiss it on the grounds of status or pedigree and/ or both. It was as
if he came to see his own elevation in slighting others and as the well-wishers
too lost patience with him, the leads to the prospective matches got sapped one
by one. All this had dented his own efforts besides drying up the well of his
daughter’s marital prospects.On the other hand, Vasavi, having failed to
induce a suitable boy on her own and with nothing better to do, went on an
acquisition spree of diplomas in assorted faculties. Ironically, that made her
progress on the marriage front even worse, as the list of eligible bachelors on
academic plane was leaner, what with the penchant of the boys to take up jobs
with their basic degrees.When Anasuya saw the folly of it all, she started
pestering Yadagiri to see the writing on the wall. Finding there weren’t any
bachelors of over thirty left on the roll of honor, he swallowed his pride and
opened his doors for all comers. However, having gone past her prime by then,
Vasavi came a cropper with every proposal that came by. But, at last, fate
seemed to test her character by tempting her into wedlock. And steeled by life,
she said ‘no’ to the guy who said ‘yes’ for he made his mercenary intent too
apparent for her liking.It appears that nature has double standards when
it comes to endowing the sexes. Why, it's as if, it affords the females, the
charms of youth, only to attract the males to propagate the species.
Uncharitably though, so it seems, it dents the female aura on the way to
menopause, leaving her to fend for herself mid-course. On the contrary, and for
the same purpose, it vests virility with men well past their prime. Anasuya, however, thought of a detour as she saw
that they had reached a dead end. She said that it would be an idea to let a
widower lead her daughter to the altar. But Yadagiri would have none of that
for he felt it would devalue the family and demoralize their daughter. Thus,
the status quo prevailed and Vasavi, to her discomfort, remained single.By the time she crossed thirty, Chandra crawled
into the final year of his B.Com. With her emaciated frame and pimpled face,
Vasavi seemed even more pathetic to his sympathetic eyes. The thought that they
shared the ugliness, bequeathed by their father in equal measure, made him empathetic towards her, even as he was
embittered towards his parent on that very score. ‘Oh if only we had taken after our mother!’ he
thought endlessly. ‘Why, we would’ve inherited her beauty, wouldn’t we have?’For its very possibility, the thought of
deprivation made it all the worse for him. But, in time, the realization that
ugliness was a worse curse for women than men, evoked sympathy for the weaker sex in his empathic
soul.Whenever he found himself in his sister’s
presence, the pity he nursed for her insensibly surfaced in his eyes. The first
time she was struck by his manner, finding his stare scaring, she gazed at him
to gauge his mind. As their eyes scanned the bounds of mutual sympathy, at
length, their souls got bonded in eternal empathy. In their state of
fellow-feeling, fearing that speech might impair the purity of their emotion,
they preferred to keep mum.‘How wretched it must be for her, in her
condition!’ he thought then. ‘Hasn’t she reached the dead end, in the midst of
her life? Maybe, a career would’ve provided some distraction for her. But dad
would have none of that. It’s as if, the very idea scandalizes him. It is
really stupid of him to stick on to the old times!’Often, as he felt his own life was no less
oppressive, he became melancholic to his mother's worry. Whenever she tried to
probe his mind, he put it in the wraps, lest its exposure should burden her
even more. Despite finding him dismissive of her inquiries, she never ceased
pestering him but to no avail. Thus feeling helpless, she kept an eagle eye on
him, and whenever she found him depressed, which was often, she sent him on
some errand. She had reasoned that an outing, if it did not alleviate his
melancholy, would at the least help unstring him a little.That day, as Chandra was confined to his room for
too long, Anasuya went up to him in concern.“What’s
wrong?” she said feeling his forehead. As their
eyes met, he savored her affection.“What a
beautiful mother!” he thought. “What a
pity she bore us ugly.”Seeing his
condition, she sent him on an errand to the Princely Pearls. When he was
leaving home, he found his sister playing with the kids of the neighborhood.‘How she
loves children!’ he thought with mixed feelings. ‘Won’t she be distressed for
not having one of her own? Is it as an escape from boredom that she gathers
them? But would that help her in any way! Maybe, it could be even worse for
her. Why, wouldn't the charm of their company sharpen her lacking even more?
Isn’t all this misery because she is ugly? What an angelic soul, with life so
sour! Oh, ugliness is the worst of fates, so it seems.’While he crossed the Lal Darwaza, he happened to
come across two burka-clad women.‘What's
this Muslim custom of wrapping up woman in burkas!’ he wondered. ‘What is it
that is sought to be hidden behind the veil? Is it beauty or ugliness?
Whatever, the veil seems to be an ingenious leveler of the inequities of genes,
at least in the public view! But, on that score, do women really care to hide
themselves behind their veils? After all, it can't be, moreover, how can they
be mad to endure the ordeal of breathing and the discomfort of constraint in
that? Then, of what avail is it to women than to cater to the male sense of
insecurity about them? Oh, how man's falsity of purpose deprives women the joys
of being her free selves? Won't the burka symbolize the hold of man over
woman’s body and soul, not to speak of her psyche? Well, the slaves were better
off than these women in their veils, why doubt that.’As he went along, feeling sad about that, he
found two hamalis toiling to push a cartload of cloth bundles.‘Why, men
like these too have no way to lighten the burden of their birth,’ he thought,
looking at them. ‘To be born poor and ugly is a double jeopardy really. Oh, how
the color of the skin came to be the measure of the looks! Well, it could be
that the white man owes his dominance of the world more to his fair skin than
the grey matter of his brain.’Inexplicably, he was seized by an impulse to
follow the travails of the hamalis. So, unmindful of the surrounding
traffic, he kept course with the cart. As if to shorten their arduous course,
the laborers exerted themselves to accelerate their motion. Lost to them, he
came in the way of a speeding car.Bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt, the
woman at the wheel yelled at him in her sarcastic tone, “Hi, you find life
burdensome?”Muttering an apology, as he moved away in
confusion, she sped past him in irritation. The poignancy of her insensitivity
perturbed him as he lumbered along to the dismal destination.‘Won’t it seem the color of the skin is the
measure of man's worth as well?’ he thought in humiliation. ‘Oh, how dark skin
devalues man in more ways than one. Would I ever be able to induce a decent
dame to become my wife? Why, even Vasavi refused to entertain ungainly men,
didn’t she? How come, even the ugly seek beauty in their mates? Why not, it's
the beauty that triggers the biological impulse.’At that, inadvertently, his thoughts turned to
his mother.‘What should have been her compulsions to marry
my father?’ he thought. ‘Being so beautiful she herself that is! If only she
married another, perhaps, Vasavi and I could’ve been differently made, wouldn't
we have been? Won’t mother be thinking that way, seeing the plight of her
children more so her daughter that is?’But, on second thoughts, he felt ashamed that he
allowed himself to think in those terms.‘The reality of life is unmistakable, isn’t it?’
he felt dejectedly. ‘It’s the fact of heredity that shapes one’s looks for good
or for bad. Unfortunately for us, we took after our father. Had we acquired our
mother’s features, and even a shade of her complexion, it would’ve been all too
different. Vasavi would have been a mother many times over by now and I could
have been the playboy of the college. Wouldn’t that have made all those who
snub me envious of me?’The envisaged envy of others in his fantasy made
him envious of them in reality.‘Surely, it could be a heady feeling to be
admired by women,’ he thought. ‘How wanted that might make one feel! Won't the
glow of the favored shows it could be infinitely fulfilling. But looks like,
it's my fate to encounter indifference indefinitely. What a wretched life, I
can't even dare to daydream!’In that state of depression, when he saw his
father at the Princely Pearls, his state of mind ensured that he found him more
oppressive than ever. The grouse he nursed that it was his father’s genes that
were the source of his and his sibling’s troubles came to the fore as though to
settle scores with his hapless parent.The psychic mix of hostility towards his father
and empathy for his sister catalyzed by self-pity made Yadagiri's welcome words
seem absurd to Chandra's pixilated mind. What was worse, the father’s show of
affection appeared apologetic to his son’s afflicted mind. Unfortunately thus,
in the son’s myopic vision, the paternal love seemed an embodiment of parental
guilt. It was as if at that very moment the son’s alienation from his father
reached a point of no return.
Views: 630
On a summer morning in Sarajevo almost a hundred years ago, a teenager took a pistol out of his pocket and fired not just the opening rounds of the First World War but the starting gun for modern history. By killing Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Gavrilo Princip, started a cycle of events that would leave 15 million dead from fighting between 1914 and 1918 and proved fatal for empires and a way of ruling that had held for centuries.
The Trigger tells the story of a young man who changed the world forever. It focuses on the drama of the incident itself by following Prinip’s journey. By retracing his steps from the feudal frontier village of his birth, through the mountains of the northern Balkans to the great plain city of Belgrade and ultimately Sarajevo, Tim Butcher illuminates our understanding of Princip— the person and the place that shaped him—and makes discoveries about him that have eluded historians for a hundred years. Traveling through the Balkans on Princip’s trail, and drawing on his own experiences there as a war reporter during the 1990s, Butcher unravels this complex part of the world and its conflicts, and shows how the events that were sparked that day in June 1914 still have influence today. Published for the centenary of the assassination, The Trigger is a rich and timely work, part travelogue, part reportage, and part history. Views: 630
We’re the D’Artigo sisters: savvy half-human, half-Fae ex-operatives for the Otherworld Intelligence Agency. My sister Camille is a wicked-good witch with three sexy husbands. My sister Delilah is a two-faced werecat and Death Maiden. And me? I’m Menolly, a jian-tu turned vampire in love with a wildly hot werepuma. Unfortunately, life is about to get very, very nasty… Nerissa and I can’t decide on what we want to do for our promise ceremony and we’re bickering like an old married couple. My sisters and I head to Otherworld for a meeting with Queen Asteria. Once there, we discover that Shadow Wing has dispatched Telazhar—a malevolent necromancer—to reignite the Scorching Wars. And as soon as we return back home, we find Gulakah, the Lord of Ghosts, waging a battle to control the magical beings over Earthside. Caught between two terrible enemies in a battle spanning two worlds, we can only hope we’re in time to stop all-out annihilation. Views: 630
We're the D'Artigo sisters: savvy--and sexy--operatives for the Otherworld Intelligence Agency. But being half-human, half-Fae short-circuits our talents at all the wrong times. My sister Delilah shapeshifts into a tabby cat whenever she's stressed. Menolly's a vampire who's still getting the hang of being undead. And me? I'm Camille, a wicked-good witch, trying to juggle faulty magic, gorgeous men, and the demonic war in which we're embroiled. Sometimes, it's hard to know just who we can trust. . . "The Equinox is coming, and mayhem rules. A crown-prince unicorn offers us a legendary gift, but it vanishes. Goblins and trolls swarm the streets of Seattle. And now Smoky, the sexiest dragon alive, decides to stake his claim--on me. Overshadowing it all, the third spirit seal surfaces and Shadow Wing's after it. But I've discovered a secret that could change everything. A new power is rising--a dangerous force from the past--one that intends to restore balance to the worlds. . . whether we like it or not. . . " Views: 630
"In the Irish, Bengali and Ethopian famines, ideology, mindsets of governments, racial preconceptions and administrative incompetence were more lethal than the initiating blight, the loss of potatoes or rice or the grain named teff."--Dust cover. Views: 629
Washington Post Top Memoir of 1999An extraordinary evocation of a grown daughter's attachment to her mother, and of both women's strength and resiliency. "I Remain in Darkness" recounts Annie's attempts first to help her mother recover from Alzheimer's disease, and then, when that proves futile, to bear witness to the older woman's gradual decline and her own experience as a daughter losing a beloved parent. "I Remain in Darkness" is a new high water mark for Ernaux, surging with raw emotional power and her sublime ability to use language to apprehend her own life's particular music. Views: 629
Ken and Donnie are brothers who are both driven by a guilty conscience. Their past lies between them like a black lagoon.“I will be marketing synthetic beef in less than a year,” I told my brother, Kenneth Hunter Wolff. I expected my announcement to surprise him at least as much as had my sudden arrival. I was trembling with excitement. But Ken just nodded, inserting a mother-of-pearl fountain pen into the pocket of his red plaid flannel short-sleeve shirt. I think that is the moment I realized the depth of my hatred. “I'm here to give you fair warning,” I told him rigidly. Shouts of men, bleats of cattle, the clatter of hooves on concrete chutes, smells of alfalfa and vaccine and hot iron and seared cowhide brought back memories of childhood. I had my Leica with me, as always in those days. With it I snapped a picture of Bill Butts, foreman of The Broken Heart Ranch, as he directed the branding and vaccinating of beef cattle. “Beef ranching is doomed,” I purred. “We’re working on synthetic pork, chicken, even vegetables and fruit. We create food from organic compounds without killing animals. Agriculture is doomed.” Views: 627
Ready for the next big thing?
The New Voices of Fantasy spotlights nineteen breakout writers who are reinventing fantasy right now. Usman T. Malik, Sofia Samatar, Eugene Fischer, E. Lily Yu, Ben Loory, Maria Dahvana Headley, Ursula Vernon, Max Gladstone, and other emerging talents have been hand-picked by fantasy legend Peter S. Beagle (The Last Unicorn) and genre expert Jacob Weisman (Treasury of the Fantastic). International, crosscultural, and fearless, many of these rising stars have just or are about to publish their first novels and collections. They bring you childhood stories gone wrong, magical creatures in heat, a building that’s alive and full of waiters, love, ducks, and a new take on a bloodsucking fiend.
Table of Contents:
“Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers” by Alyssa Wong
“Selkie Stories are for Losers” by Sofia Samatar
“Tornado’s Siren” by Brooke Bolander
“Left the Century to Sit Unmoved” by Sarah Pinsker
“A Kiss with Teeth” by Max Gladstone
“Jackalope Wives” by Ursula Vernon
“The Cartographer Wasps and Anarchist Bees” by E. Lily Yu
“The Practical Witch’s Guide to Acquiring Real Estate” by A. C. Wise
“The Tallest Doll in New York City” by Maria Dahvana Headley
“The Haunting of Apollo A7LB” by Hannu Rajaniemi
“Here Be Dragons” by Chris Tarry
“The One They Took Before” by Kelly Sandoval
“Tiger Baby” by JY Yang
“The Duck” by Ben Loory
“Wing” by Amal El-Mohtar
“The Philosophers” by Adam Ehrlich Sachs
“My Time Among the Bridge Blowers” by Eugene Fischer
“The Husband Stitch” by Carmen Maria Machado
“The Pauper Prince and the Eucalyptus Jinn” by Usman T. Malik Views: 627
