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#1)","productType","Paperback","9780063440012","description","In this exclusive authorized edition from the Queen of Mystery comes the first Miss Marple mystery wherein a dead body in a clergyman’s study proves to the indomitable sleuth that no place, holy or otherwise, is a sanctuary from homicide—now with a stunning new look and special foreword by Lucy Foley.Miss Marple encounters a compelling murder mystery in the sleepy little village of St. Mary Mead, where under the seemingly peaceful exterior of an English country village lurks intrigue, guilt, deception and death.Colonel Protheroe, local magistrate and overbearing land-owner is the most detested man in the village. Everyone—even in the vicar—wishes he were dead. And very soon he is--shot in the head in the vicar's own study. Faced with a surfeit of suspects, only the inscrutable Miss Marple can unravel the tangled web of clues that will lead to the unmasking of the killer.","descriptionHtml","

In this exclusive authorized edition from the Queen of Mystery comes the first Miss Marple mystery wherein a dead body in a clergyman’s study proves to the indomitable sleuth that no place, holy or otherwise, is a sanctuary from homicide—now with a stunning new look and special foreword by Lucy Foley.

Miss Marple encounters a compelling murder mystery in the sleepy little village of St. Mary Mead, where under the seemingly peaceful exterior of an English country village lurks intrigue, guilt, deception and death.

Colonel Protheroe, local magistrate and overbearing land-owner is the most detested man in the village. Everyone—even in the vicar—wishes he were dead. And very soon he is--shot in the head in the vicar's own study. Faced with a surfeit of suspects, only the inscrutable Miss Marple can unravel the tangled web of clues that will lead to the unmasking of the killer.

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“Agatha Christie taught me two things: that plotting mysteries was an art, and that a woman detective could be as strong a character as a male detective.” - Charles Todd, New York Times bestselling author of the Ian Rutledge mysteries and Bess Crawford mysteries

\\\"The Murder at the Vicarage was my gateway drug into crime fiction at the age of nine and I've never regretted the addiction!\\\" - Val McDermid, award-winning author of the Tony Hill and Carol Jordan series

“When she really hits her stride, as she does here, Agatha Christie is hard to surpass.” - Saturday Review of Literature

\"},{\"id\":\"118589364T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

Lucy Foley is a #1 Sunday Times, Irish Times and New York Times bestselling author. More than 10 million copies of her books are in print worldwide, and several are currently being adapted for the screen. She is a Waterstones Thriller of the Month author, a three-time nominee at the British Book Awards, and The Guest List was a Reese’s Book Club selection and winner of the Goodreads Choice Award for Mystery Thriller. As a life-long Agatha Christie fan, Lucy has drawn immeasurable inspiration from the Queen of Crime. She was one of 12 writers to contribute to Marple, a collection of short stories featuring the beloved detective. And in Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel, she was inspired to transport Miss Marple – her favorite Christie creation – to the glamorous post-war setting of the Swiss Alps, in a mystery that feels gloriously escapist yet utterly relevant to our times.

\"},{\"id\":\"74378250T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

Lucy Foley studied English Literature at Durham University and University College London and worked for several years as a fiction editor in the publishing industry. She is the author of seven novels, including The Midnight Feast, The Paris Apartment, The Guest List, and The Hunting Party. She lives in England.

\"},{\"id\":\"130227121T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Lucy Foley is a #1 Sunday Times, Irish Times and New York Times bestselling author. More than 10 million copies of her books are in print worldwide, and several are currently being adapted for the screen. She is a Waterstones Thriller of the Month author, a three-time nominee at the British Book Awards, and The Guest List was a Reese's Book Club selection and winner of the Goodreads Choice Award for Mystery Thriller. As a life-long Agatha Christie fan, Lucy has drawn immeasurable inspiration from the Queen of Crime. She was one of 12 writers to contribute to Marple, a collection of short stories featuring the beloved detective. And in Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel, she was inspired to transport Miss Marple - her favorite Christie creation - to the glamorous post-war setting of the Swiss Alps, in a mystery that feels gloriously escapist yet utterly relevant to our times.

\"},{\"id\":\"74378247T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"108670224T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":1991,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":1993},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044105961713","seoKeywords","The-Murder-at-the-Vicarage/Agatha-Christie",{"_41":1995,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":1997},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044101964017","workId","1100153967",{"_41":1999,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044104192241","skuType","book",{"_41":2003,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":1907},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044099080433",{"_41":2005,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044104749297","isEligibleForFreeShipping","true",{"_41":2009,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2012},"gid://shopify/Metafield/88212995571953","reviews","rating","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.3\"}",{"_41":2014,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":899},"gid://shopify/Metafield/88212995539185","rating_count",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2017,"_71":2018,"_1905":1906,"_825":2019,"_1908":2020,"_1910":2021,"_1912":2022,"_1919":2026,"_1927":59,"_1928":2028,"_1934":2031,"_1955":-5,"_1956":2040,"_1958":2041,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2042},"gid://shopify/Product/8833486913777","The Body in the Library (Miss Marple Series #2)","9780063214019","Now with a beautiful new series look, the iconic Miss Marple must investigate the case of a girlfound dead in Agatha Christie’s classicmystery.It’s seven in the morning. The Bantrys wake to find the body of a young woman in their library. She is wearing an evening dress and heavy makeup, which is now smeared across her cheeks. But who is she? How did she get there? And what is the connection with another dead girl, whose charred remains are later discovered in an abandoned quarry?The respectable Bantrys invite Miss Marple into their home to investigate. Amid rumors of scandal, she baits a clever trap to catch a ruthless killer.","

Now with a beautiful new series look, the iconic Miss Marple must investigate the case of a girl
found dead in Agatha Christie’s classic
mystery.

It’s seven in the morning. The Bantrys wake to find the body of a young woman in their library. She is wearing an evening dress and heavy makeup, which is now smeared across her cheeks. But who is she? How did she get there? And what is the connection with another dead girl, whose charred remains are later discovered in an abandoned quarry?

The respectable Bantrys invite Miss Marple into their home to investigate. Amid rumors of scandal, she baits a clever trap to catch a ruthless killer.

",{"_41":2023,"_54":2024,"_56":2025,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47635628032241","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063214019_p0.jpg?v=1784307110",1375,{"_1921":2027},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":2029,"_1932":2030},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2032},[2033],{"_41":2034,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2035,"_1943":2036,"_1945":2037,"_1947":2038,"_1953":2019,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229370962161",{"_41":2023,"_54":2024,"_1918":-5,"_56":2025,"_50":1917},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2018,"_825":2019},[2039],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2019},{"_1951":1906},[2043,2046,2048,2051,2053,-5,2055,2057,2060,2063,2066,-5,-5,2068,-5,2070,2072,2075],{"_41":2044,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2045},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020537577713","[{\"contributorId\":170686,\"fullName\":\"Agatha Christie\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2047,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":1973},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020537741553",{"_41":2049,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1976,"_1951":2050},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020537807089","2",{"_41":2052,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020538102001",{"_41":2054,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020537348337",{"_41":2056,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020538167537",{"_41":2058,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2059},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020539478257","[{\"id\":\"74357718T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Chapter One

Mrs. Bantry was dreaming. Her sweet peas had just taken a First at the flower show. The vicar, dressed in cassock and surplice, was giving out the prizes in church. His wife wandered past, dressed in a bathing suit, but, as is the blessed habit of dreams, this fact did not arouse, the disapproval of the parish in the way it would assuredly have done in real life.

Mrs. Bantry was enjoying her dream a good deal. She usually did enjoy those early-morning dreams that were terminated by the arrival of tea. Somewhere in her inner consciousness was an awareness of the usual noises of the household. The rattle of the curtain rings on the stairs as the housemaid drew them, the noises of the second housemaid's dustpan and brush in the passage outside. In the distance the heavy noise of the front-door bolt being drawn back.

Another day was beginning. In the meantime she must extract as much pleasure as possible from the flower show, for already its dreamlike quality was becoming apparent.

Below her was the noise of the big wooden shutters in the drawing room being opened. She heard it, yet did not hear it. For quite half an hour longer the usual household noises would go on, discreet, subdued, not disturbing because they were so familiar. They would culminate in a swift, controlled sound of footsteps along the passage, the rustle of a print dress, the subdued chink of tea things as the tray was deposited on the table outside, then the soft knock and the entry of Mary to draw the curtains.

In her sleep Mrs. Bantry frowned. Something disturbing was penetrating through the dream state, something out of its time. Footsteps alongthe passage, footsteps that were too hurried and too soon. Her ears listened unconsciously for the chink of china, but there was no chink of china.

The knock came at the door. Automatically, from the depths of her dream, Mrs. Bantry said, \\\"Come in.\\\" The door opened; now there would be the chink of curtain rings as the curtains were drawn back.

But there was no chink of curtain rings. Out of the dim green light Mary's voice came, breathless, hysterical. \\\"Oh, ma'am, oh, ma'am, there's a body in the library! \\\"

And then, with a hysterical burst of sobs, she rushed out of the room again.

Mrs. Bantry sat up in bed.

Either her dream had taken a very odd turn or else--or else Mary had really rushed into the room and had said--incredibly fantastic!--that there was a body in the library.

\\\"Impossible,\\\" said Mrs. Bantry to herself. \\\"I must have been dreaming.\\\"

But even as she said it, she felt more and more certain that she had not been dreaming; that Mary, her superior self-controlled Mary, had actually uttered those fantastic words.

Mrs. Bantry reflected a minute and then applied an urgent conjugal elbow to her sleeping spouse. \\\"Arthur, Arthur, wake up.\\\"

Colonel Bantry grunted, muttered and rolled over on his side.

\\\"Wake up, Arthur. Did you hear what she said?\\\"

\\\"Very likely,\\\" said Colonel Bantry indistinctly. \\\"I quite agree with you, Dolly,\\\" and promptly went to sleep again.

Mrs. Bantry shook him. \\\"You've got to listen. Mary came in and said that there was a body in the library.\\\"

\\\"Eh, what?\\\"

\\\"A body in the library.\\\"

\\\"Who said so?\\\"

\\\"Mary.\\\"

Colonel Bantry collected his scattered faculties and proceeded to deal with the situation. He said, \\\"Nonsense, old girl! You've been dreaming.\\\"

\\\"No, I haven't. I thought so, too, at first. But I haven't. She really came in and said so.\\\"

\\\"Mary came in and said there was a body in the library?\\\"

\\\"Yes.\\\"

\\\"But there couldn't be,\\\" said Colonel Bantry.

\\\"No-no, I suppose not,\\\" said Mrs. Bantry doubtfully. Rallying, she went on, \\\"But then why did Mary say there was?\\\"

\\\"She can't have.\\\"

\\\"She did.\\\"

\\\"You must have imagined it.\\\"

\\\"I didn't imagine it.\\\"

Colonel Bantry was by now thoroughly awake and prepared to deal with the situation on its merits. He said kindly, \\\"You've been dreaming, Dolly. It's that detective story you were reading--The Clue of the Broken Match. You know, Lord Edgbaston finds a beautiful blonde dead on the library hearthrug. Bodies are always being found in libraries in books. I've never known a case in real life.\\\"

\\\"Perhaps you will now,\\\" said Mrs. Bantry. \\\"Anyway, Arthur, you've got to get up and see.\\\"

\\\"But really, Dolly, it must have been a dream. Dreams often do seem wonderfully vivid when you first wake up. You feel quite sure they're true.\\\"

\\\"I was having quite a different sort of dream about a flower show and the vicar's wife in a bathing dress--something like that.\\\" Mrs. Bantry jumped out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The light of a fine autumn day flooded the room.

\\\"I did not dream it,\\\" said Mrs. Bantry firmly. \\\"Get up at once, Arthur, and go downstairs and see about it.\\\"

\\\"You want me to go downstairs and ask if there's a body in the library? I shall look a fool.\\\"

\\\"You needn't ask anything,\\\" said Mrs. Bantry. \\\"if there is a body--and of course it's just possible that Mary's gone mad and thinks she sees things that aren't there--well, somebody will tell you soon enough. You won't have to say a word.\\\"

Grumbling, Colonel Bantry wrapped himself in his dressing gown and left the room. He went along the passage and down the staircase. At the foot of it was a little knot of huddled servants; some of them were sobbing.

The butler stepped forward impressively. \\\"I'm glad you have come, sir. I have directed that nothing should be done until you came. Will it be in order for me to ring up the police, sir?\\\"

\\\"Ring 'em up about what?\\\"

\"},{\"id\":\"118565003T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

“Genuine old-crusted Christie.” - Time magazine

“Professional detectives are no match for elderly spinsters… it is hard not to be impressed.” - Times Literary Supplement (London)

“One of the most ingeniously contrived of all her murder stories.” - Birmingham Post

“Agatha Christie has made it awfully hard for the rest of us, because whenever we think of a clever twist—she’s already done it.” - Elizabeth Peters, New York Times bestselling author of the Amelia Peabody novels

\"},{\"id\":\"79293032T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

There’s never a bad time for an Agatha Christie novel. And, lucky for us, the Christie estate is reissuing all the Miss Marple titles in a yearlong program. Jane Marple isn’t a detective by profession — however, we’re none the wiser because of her ability to always crack the case!

\"},{\"id\":\"118565006T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"74357724T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"18541849T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"108698799T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"74357722T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976.

\"}]",{"_41":2061,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2062},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020538986737","The-Body-in-the-Library/Agatha-Christie",{"_41":2064,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2065},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020537184497","1100151621",{"_41":2067,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020538003697",{"_41":2069,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2019},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020536135921",{"_41":2071,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020538265841",{"_41":2073,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2074},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72754782339313","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.3\"}",{"_41":2076,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2077},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72754782306545","9",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2079,"_71":2080,"_1905":1906,"_825":2081,"_1908":2082,"_1910":2083,"_1912":2084,"_1919":2089,"_1927":59,"_1928":2091,"_1934":2094,"_1955":-5,"_1956":2103,"_1958":2104,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2105},"gid://shopify/Product/8833487077617","The Moving Finger (Miss Marple Series #3)","9780063214033","Now with a beautiful new series look, a classic mystery from the Queen of Crime in which the indomitable Miss Marple exposes a small town’s shameful secrets.Lymstock is a town with more than its share of scandalous secrets—a town where even a sudden outbreak of anonymous hate mail causes only a minor stir.But all that changes when one of the recipients, Mrs. Symmington, commits suicide. Her final note says “I can’t go on,” but Miss Marple questions the coroner’s verdict of suicide. Soon nobody is sure of anyone—as secrets stop being shameful and start becoming deadly.","

Now with a beautiful new series look, a classic mystery from the Queen of Crime in which the indomitable Miss Marple exposes a small town’s shameful secrets.

Lymstock is a town with more than its share of scandalous secrets—a town where even a sudden outbreak of anonymous hate mail causes only a minor stir.

But all that changes when one of the recipients, Mrs. Symmington, commits suicide. Her final note says “I can’t go on,” but Miss Marple questions the coroner’s verdict of suicide.

Soon nobody is sure of anyone—as secrets stop being shameful and start becoming deadly.

",{"_41":2085,"_54":2086,"_56":2087,"_50":2088,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47634703876337","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063214033_p0.jpg?v=1765249801",899,1356,{"_1921":2090},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":2092,"_1932":2093},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2095},[2096],{"_41":2097,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2098,"_1943":2099,"_1945":2100,"_1947":2101,"_1953":2081,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229371158769",{"_41":2085,"_54":2086,"_1918":-5,"_56":2087,"_50":2088},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2080,"_825":2081},[2102],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2081},{"_1951":1906},[2106,2108,2110,2113,2115,-5,2117,2119,2122,2125,2128,-5,-5,2130,-5,2132,2134,2137],{"_41":2107,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2045},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020548751601",{"_41":2109,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":1973},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020549374193",{"_41":2111,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1976,"_1951":2112},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020549570801","3",{"_41":2114,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020550226161",{"_41":2116,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020547899633",{"_41":2118,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020550422769",{"_41":2120,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2121},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020553109745","[{\"id\":\"118565242T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

“Beyond all doubt the puzzle in The Moving Finger is fit for experts.” - The Times (London)

“Agatha Christie is in a class by herself. For those of us who write mysteries, there’s no better muse, and for those of us who read them, no deeper pleasure.” - Mary Jane Clark, New York Times bestselling author

\"},{\"id\":\"131616631T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

When a small town is shaken by a slew of scandalous secrets from an anonymous writer, Miss Marple is called to investigate an apparent suicide.

\"},{\"id\":\"118565244T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"74588266T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"76231130T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"110889456T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2123,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2124},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020552290545","The-Moving-Finger/Agatha-Christie",{"_41":2126,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2127},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020547408113","1100152659",{"_41":2129,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020550029553",{"_41":2131,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2081},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020545278193",{"_41":2133,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020550586609",{"_41":2135,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2136},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72734906417393","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.0\"}",{"_41":2138,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":891},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72734906384625",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2140,"_71":2141,"_1905":1906,"_825":2142,"_1908":2143,"_1910":2144,"_1912":2145,"_1919":2148,"_1927":59,"_1928":2150,"_1934":2153,"_1955":-5,"_1956":2162,"_1958":2163,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2164},"gid://shopify/Product/8833487536369","A Murder Is Announced (Miss Marple Series #4)","9780063214040","Now with a beautiful new series look, Christie’s classic mystery in which a murder is announced in a small-town newspaper advertisement—and Miss Marple must unravel the fiendish puzzle when a crime does indeed occur.The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn are agog with curiosity when the Gazette advertises “A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30 p.m.”A childish practical joke? Or a spiteful hoax? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, the locals arrive at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out and a gun is fired. When they come back on, a gruesome scene is revealed. An impossible crime? It’s up to Miss Marple to get the scoop and make sure the killer doesn’t bury the lead.","

Now with a beautiful new series look, Christie’s classic mystery in which a murder is announced in a small-town newspaper advertisement—and Miss Marple must unravel the fiendish puzzle when a crime does indeed occur.

The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn are agog with curiosity when the Gazette advertises “A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30 p.m.”

A childish practical joke? Or a spiteful hoax? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, the locals arrive at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out and a gun is fired. When they come back on, a gruesome scene is revealed.

An impossible crime? It’s up to Miss Marple to get the scoop and make sure the killer doesn’t bury the lead.

",{"_41":2146,"_54":2147,"_56":2025,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47635419463921","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063214040_p0.jpg?v=1765250963",{"_1921":2149},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":2151,"_1932":2152},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2154},[2155],{"_41":2156,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2157,"_1943":2158,"_1945":2159,"_1947":2160,"_1953":2142,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229371650289",{"_41":2146,"_54":2147,"_1918":-5,"_56":2025,"_50":1917},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2141,"_825":2142},[2161],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2142},{"_1951":1906},[2165,2167,2169,2172,2174,-5,2176,2178,2181,2184,2187,-5,-5,2189,-5,2191,2193,2196],{"_41":2166,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2045},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020572868849",{"_41":2168,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":1973},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020573262065",{"_41":2170,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1976,"_1951":2171},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020573425905","4",{"_41":2173,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020573851889",{"_41":2175,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020572344561",{"_41":2177,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020573982961",{"_41":2179,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2180},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020575457521","[{\"id\":\"118565431T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

“A super-smooth Christie—three neat murders in an English village, [and] an assortment of her famous red herrings, all beautifully marinated.” - New York Times

“Establishes firmly her claim to the throne of detection. The plot is as ingenious as ever…the dialogue both wise and witty; while the suspense is maintained very skilfully until the final revelation.” - A. A. Milne

“Agatha Christie gave readers the world over a vivid sense of English life, especially in her depiction of the small village where nothing happen—until, of course, a murder is discovered.” - Jacqueline Winspear, New York Times bestselling author of the Maisie Dobbs novels

\"},{\"id\":\"131616632T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Miss Marple arrives at Chipping Cleghorn to unravel a fiendish puzzle when a murderer declares his crimes in the local newspaper. Is it a practical joke or a prank? Miss Marple is the only one who can find out the truth.

\"},{\"id\":\"118565433T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"17957627T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"70714026T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"74588267T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"76231131T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"94282467T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2182,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2183},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020574900465","A-Murder-Is-Announced/Agatha-Christie",{"_41":2185,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2186},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020571918577","1100154012",{"_41":2188,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020573720817",{"_41":2190,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2142},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020569723121",{"_41":2192,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020574114033",{"_41":2194,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2195},"gid://shopify/Metafield/80617062498545","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"5.0\"}",{"_41":2197,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2171},"gid://shopify/Metafield/80617062465777",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2199,"_71":2200,"_1905":1906,"_825":2201,"_1908":2202,"_1910":2203,"_1912":2204,"_1919":2208,"_1927":59,"_1928":2210,"_1934":2213,"_1955":-5,"_1956":2222,"_1958":2223,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2224},"gid://shopify/Product/8833487667441","They Do It with Mirrors (Miss Marple Series #5)","9780063214057","Now with a beautiful new series look, the indomitable Miss Marple investigates some rather deadly doings at a rehabilitation center for delinquents.Miss Marple senses danger when she visits a friend living in Stoneygates, a rehabilitation center for delinquents. Her fears are confirmed when someone shoots at the administrator. Although he is not injured, a mysterious visitor is less fortunate—shot dead simultaneously in another part of the building.Pure coincidence? Miss Marple thinks not, and must use all her cunning to solve the riddle of the stranger’s visit … and his murder.","

Now with a beautiful new series look, the indomitable Miss Marple investigates some rather deadly doings at a rehabilitation center for delinquents.

Miss Marple senses danger when she visits a friend living in Stoneygates, a rehabilitation center for delinquents. Her fears are confirmed when someone shoots at the administrator. Although he is not injured, a mysterious visitor is less fortunate—shot dead simultaneously in another part of the building.

Pure coincidence? Miss Marple thinks not, and must use all her cunning to solve the riddle of the stranger’s visit … and his murder.

",{"_41":2205,"_54":2206,"_56":2207,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47634479775985","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063214057_p0.jpg?v=1765249544",1328,{"_1921":2209},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":2211,"_1932":2212},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2214},[2215],{"_41":2216,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2217,"_1943":2218,"_1945":2219,"_1947":2220,"_1953":2201,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229371748593",{"_41":2205,"_54":2206,"_1918":-5,"_56":2207,"_50":1917},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2200,"_825":2201},[2221],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2201},{"_1951":1906},[2225,2227,2229,2231,2233,-5,2235,2237,2240,2243,2246,-5,-5,2248,-5,2250,2252,2254],{"_41":2226,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2045},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020579127537",{"_41":2228,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":1973},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020579619057",{"_41":2230,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1976,"_1951":893},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020579815665",{"_41":2232,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020580339953",{"_41":2234,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020578603249",{"_41":2236,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020580536561",{"_41":2238,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2239},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020582895857","[{\"id\":\"118453904T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

“No one on either side of the Atlantic does it better.” - New York Times

“Brilliant.” - The Guardian

“I’ve always preferred her Jane Marple books, and find them infinitely rereadable; it hardly matters if I remember who did it.” - Lawrence Block, New York Times bestselling author

\"},{\"id\":\"131616633T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

As Miss Marple visits a friend at a rehabilitation center, she knowingly stumbles upon a perplexing murder. Was this all a coincidence or part of something more sinister? Only Miss Marple can get to the bottom of this one.

\"},{\"id\":\"118453905T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"74433963T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"76240944T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

\"},{\"id\":\"18149123T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"111372196T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2241,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2242},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020582011121","They-Do-It-with-Mirrors/Agatha-Christie",{"_41":2244,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2245},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020578210033","1100155429",{"_41":2247,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020580143345",{"_41":2249,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2201},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020576440561",{"_41":2251,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39020580700401",{"_41":2253,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2195},"gid://shopify/Metafield/81769879208177",{"_41":2255,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2112},"gid://shopify/Metafield/81769879175409",{"_26":74,"_75":10,"_54":2257},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/where-to-start-agatha-christies-miss-marple","Where to Start Agatha Christie's Miss Marple",{"_33":2260,"_26":1045,"_1035":2261,"_71":2577},"e3ceb12b392e",{"_1038":2262,"_1047":214,"_1425":1426,"_1427":1428,"_96":-5,"_54":2575},[2263,2325,2389,2454,2518],{"_1901":1902,"_41":2264,"_71":2265,"_1905":1906,"_825":2266,"_1908":2267,"_1910":2268,"_1912":2269,"_1919":2273,"_1927":59,"_1928":2276,"_1934":2279,"_1955":2288,"_1956":2290,"_1958":2291,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2292},"gid://shopify/Product/9404942680305","The October Film Haunt: A Novel","9781250333711","WINNER OF THE BRAM STOKER AWARD FOR BEST FIRST NOVELOne of the Best Horror Novels of the Year by Vulture * Geek Rage/ Strange Library * Cinema ChordsMacabre Daily's #1 Horror Novel of 2025Horror Movie meets the scope and emotion of Stephen King in this heart-pounding, magnetic tour de force novel, destined to become an instant classic, about a woman pulled into a cult horror film that is determined to have a sequel, by critically acclaimed author Michael Wehunt.Ten years ago, Jorie Stroud was the rising star of the October Film Haunt, a trio of horror enthusiasts who camped out at the filming locations of their favorite scary movies, sharing their love through their popular blog. But after a night in the graveyard from Proof of Demons-perhaps the most chilling cult film ever made, directed by the enigmatic Hélène Enriquez-everything unraveled.Now, Jorie has built an isolated life with her young son in Vermont. In the devastating wake of her viral, truth-stretching Proof of Demons blog entry-hysteria, internet backlash, and the death of a young woman-Jorie has put it all, along with her intense love for the horror genre, behind her.Until a videotape arrives in the mail. Jorie fears someone might be filming her. And the \"Rickies\"-Enriquez obsessives who would do anything for the reclusive director-begin to cross lines in disturbing ways. It seems Hélène Enriquez is making a new kind of sequel...and Jorie is her final girl.As the dangers grow even more unexpected and strange, Jorie must search for answers before the proof of the movie's title finds her and takes everything she loves.This riveting and layered horror novel unleashes supernatural terror in a world where truth can be manipulated, and nothing is as it seems. Beautiful and horrifying, with an unforgettable cast of characters, The October Film Haunt will shock and delight readers all the way to its breathless final page.\"So unique and steeped in 21st century paranoia and dread you won't be able to read this alone at night.\" - Paul Tremblay\"The horror in here is palpable, but the writing itself is just as scary: How can one pen have this many good lines in it?\" - Stephen Graham Jones","

WINNER OF THE BRAM STOKER AWARD FOR BEST FIRST NOVEL

One of the Best Horror Novels of the Year by Vulture * Geek Rage/ Strange Library * Cinema Chords

Macabre Daily's #1 Horror Novel of 2025

Horror Movie meets the scope and emotion of Stephen King in this heart-pounding, magnetic tour de force novel, destined to become an instant classic, about a woman pulled into a cult horror film that is determined to have a sequel, by critically acclaimed author Michael Wehunt.

Ten years ago, Jorie Stroud was the rising star of the October Film Haunt, a trio of horror enthusiasts who camped out at the filming locations of their favorite scary movies, sharing their love through their popular blog. But after a night in the graveyard from Proof of Demons-perhaps the most chilling cult film ever made, directed by the enigmatic Hélène Enriquez-everything unraveled.

Now, Jorie has built an isolated life with her young son in Vermont. In the devastating wake of her viral, truth-stretching Proof of Demons blog entry-hysteria, internet backlash, and the death of a young woman-Jorie has put it all, along with her intense love for the horror genre, behind her.

Until a videotape arrives in the mail. Jorie fears someone might be filming her. And the \"Rickies\"-Enriquez obsessives who would do anything for the reclusive director-begin to cross lines in disturbing ways. It seems Hélène Enriquez is making a new kind of sequel...and Jorie is her final girl.

As the dangers grow even more unexpected and strange, Jorie must search for answers before the proof of the movie's title finds her and takes everything she loves.

This riveting and layered horror novel unleashes supernatural terror in a world where truth can be manipulated, and nothing is as it seems. Beautiful and horrifying, with an unforgettable cast of characters, The October Film Haunt will shock and delight readers all the way to its breathless final page.

\"So unique and steeped in 21st century paranoia and dread you won't be able to read this alone at night.\" - Paul Tremblay

\"The horror in here is palpable, but the writing itself is just as scary: How can one pen have this many good lines in it?\" - Stephen Graham Jones

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\\\"Wehunt is one of the most dynamic voices in horror... a cosmic fusion of William Faulkner's gothic with modern sensibilities.\\\" -Booklist (starred review)

\\\"The horror in here is palpable, and timely, and sticky, but the writing itself is just as scary: How can one pen have this many good lines in it?\\\" -Stephen Graham Jones, New York Times bestselling author of I Was a Teenage Slasher and Don't Fear the Reaper

\\\"Michael Wehunt's rabbit punch of a novel is as beautifully written as it is affecting.\\\" -Paul Tremblay, New York Times bestselling author of Horror Movie and A Head Full of Ghosts

\\\"This is an extraordinary book, carried by an unsettling baritone hum, not dissimilar to the whir of a VCR that should never have been plugged in to begin with.\\\" -Josh Malerman, New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box and Incidents Around the House

\\\"Haunting, clever, and flat-out scary. I plan to read it again to figure out how Wehunt pulled it off.\\\" -Richard Chizmar, New York Times bestselling author of Chasing the Boogeyman and Memorials

\\\"Will dig a hole in you, plant roots, and grow.\\\" -Nick Cutter, bestselling author of The Queen and The Troop

\\\"Intelligent, emotional, and very very scary. One of the best books I've read in years.\\\" -Adam Cesare, USA Today bestselling author of Influencer and Clown in a Cornfield

\\\"Feels like a cursed tape you're not sure you should've watched, but can't bring yourself to stop.\\\" -Nat Cassidy, author of When the Wolf Comes Home and Nestlings

\\\"Infused with atmospheric, seeping dread that slowly creeps down your spine, this is a captivating story not to be missed.\\\" -CG Drews, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of Don't Let The Forest In

\\\"Deftly pairs emotional heft with nightmare fuel against the eerie backdrop of a cult horror film.\\\" -Craig DiLouie, author of How to Make a Horror Movie and Survive

\\\"A masterpiece of miasma. Imagine The Truman Show helmed by Wes Craven.\\\" -Clay McLeod Chapman, author of Wake Up and Open Your Eyes

\\\"Each page sighs with the terrifying promise of dread, the soft whispers of legends and mythologies aching to be exposed.\\\" -Eric LaRocca, author of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke

\\\"A smart, genre-savvy book that gets very, very weird.\\\" -Brian Evenson, author of Good Night, Sleep Tight and Songs for the Unravelling the World

\\\"A love letter to horror... I have never read anything quite like this novel, and I don't think I will again.\\\" -Kristi DeMeester, Georgia Author of the Year Finalist and author of Dark Sisters and Such a Pretty Smile

\\\"A masterful work by a horror writer whose talents I want the world to know and love-and fear.\\\" -Andy Davidson, author of The Hollow Kind

\\\"Smart, gripping, and utterly terrifying, this book will make you rethink your relationship with both the camera and social media.\\\" -Wendy N. Wagner, author of The Deer Kings

\\\"This is a terrifying novel. There are sequences and images that have invaded my sleep and my daydreams. Read, but beware.\\\" -Alison Rumfitt, author of Brainwyrms and Tell Me I'm Worthless

\\\"An eerie and savage work of meta-horror made all the more effective for the delicacy of its psychological portrayals.\\\" -Nathan Ballingrud, author of Crypt of the Moon Spider and The Strange

\\\"Wehunt blurs reality and fiction, confounds any expectations, and makes you feel like you're participating in a dark ritual with each turned page.\\\" -Vulture

\\\"Wehunt's chilling, spot-on imagery and descriptive prose are what really sell this ambitious concept...a layered slow-burn that speaks of obsession, fandom and the lethal itch to know the truth.\\\" -Fangoria

\\\"A chilling and cerebral descent into obsession, grief, and the viral power of belief.\\\" -Horror Junkies

\\\"A strong contender for the epic horror novel of the 2020s.\\\" -Geek Rage/Strange Library

\\\"A twisted nightmare fit for the 21st century...will delight hardcore horror fans with its heavy dread, innovative prose, and delightful dialogue.\\\" -Shelf Awareness

\\\"A love letter to horror films and creatives...damnably haunting and wicked as hell.\\\" -FanFiAddict

\\\"A metafictional reliquary-a haunted artifact masquerading as a novel, or perhaps the other way around. It is not a book to be read so much as inhabited. You do not finish it; you leave it. And when you do, the world outside is slightly less intact.\\\" -The Dark Forest

\\\"Simply excellent.\\\" -JamReads

\\\"Wehunt knows how to get under your skin.\\\" -Book Reporter

\\\"Wehunt has crafted something rare: a horror novel that frightens on multiple registers-viscerally, psychologically, and existentially.\\\" -The Bookish Elf

\\\"Terrifying perfection.\\\" -Macabre Daily

\\\"Downright chilling...[a] monumental novel.\\\" -Camera Macabre

\\\"Blending psychological, supernatural, and conspiracy horror into an engaging, unsettling trip through fandom and its adjacent obsession...as suspenseful as it is thought-provoking.\\\" -GeekDad

\"},{\"id\":\"131389536T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\\\"Wehunt is one of the most dynamic voices in horror... a cosmic fusion of William Faulkner's gothic with modern sensibilities.\\\" --Booklist (starred review)

\\\"The horror in here is palpable, and timely, and sticky, but the writing itself is just as scary: How can one pen have this many good lines in it?\\\" --Stephen Graham Jones, New York Times bestselling author of I Was a Teenage Slasher and Don't Fear the Reaper

\\\"Michael Wehunt's rabbit punch of a novel is as beautifully written as it is affecting.\\\" --Paul Tremblay, New York Times bestselling author of Horror Movie and A Head Full of Ghosts

\\\"This is an extraordinary book, carried by an unsettling baritone hum, not dissimilar to the whir of a VCR that should never have been plugged in to begin with.\\\" --Josh Malerman, New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box and Incidents Around the House

\\\"Haunting, clever, and flat-out scary. I plan to read it again to figure out how Wehunt pulled it off.\\\" --Richard Chizmar, New York Times bestselling author of Chasing the Boogeyman and Memorials

\\\"Will dig a hole in you, plant roots, and grow.\\\" --Nick Cutter, bestselling author of The Queen and The Troop

\\\"Intelligent, emotional, and very very scary. One of the best books I've read in years.\\\" --Adam Cesare, USA Today bestselling author of Influencer and Clown in a Cornfield

\\\"Feels like a cursed tape you're not sure you should've watched, but can't bring yourself to stop.\\\" --Nat Cassidy, author of When the Wolf Comes Home and Nestlings

\\\"Infused with atmospheric, seeping dread that slowly creeps down your spine, this is a captivating story not to be missed.\\\" --CG Drews, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of Don't Let The Forest In

\\\"Deftly pairs emotional heft with nightmare fuel against the eerie backdrop of a cult horror film.\\\" --Craig DiLouie, author of How to Make a Horror Movie and Survive

\\\"A masterpiece of miasma. Imagine The Truman Show helmed by Wes Craven.\\\" --Clay McLeod Chapman, author of Wake Up and Open Your Eyes

\\\"Each page sighs with the terrifying promise of dread, the soft whispers of legends and mythologies aching to be exposed.\\\" --Eric LaRocca, author of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke

\\\"A smart, genre-savvy book that gets very, very weird.\\\" --Brian Evenson, author of Good Night, Sleep Tight and Songs for the Unravelling the World

\\\"A love letter to horror... I have never read anything quite like this novel, and I don't think I will again.\\\" --Kristi DeMeester, Georgia Author of the Year Finalist and author of Dark Sisters and Such a Pretty Smile

\\\"A masterful work by a horror writer whose talents I want the world to know and love--and fear.\\\" --Andy Davidson, author of The Hollow Kind

\\\"Smart, gripping, and utterly terrifying, this book will make you rethink your relationship with both the camera and social media.\\\" --Wendy N. Wagner, author of The Deer Kings

\\\"This is a terrifying novel. There are sequences and images that have invaded my sleep and my daydreams. Read, but beware.\\\" --Alison Rumfitt, author of Brainwyrms and Tell Me I'm Worthless

\\\"An eerie and savage work of meta-horror made all the more effective for the delicacy of its psychological portrayals.\\\" --Nathan Ballingrud, author of Crypt of the Moon Spider and The Strange

\\\"Wehunt blurs reality and fiction, confounds any expectations, and makes you feel like you're participating in a dark ritual with each turned page.\\\" --Vulture

\\\"Wehunt's chilling, spot-on imagery and descriptive prose are what really sell this ambitious concept...a layered slow-burn that speaks of obsession, fandom and the lethal itch to know the truth.\\\" --Fangoria

\\\"A chilling and cerebral descent into obsession, grief, and the viral power of belief.\\\" --Horror Junkies

\\\"A strong contender for the epic horror novel of the 2020s.\\\" --Geek Rage/Strange Library

\\\"A twisted nightmare fit for the 21st century...will delight hardcore horror fans with its heavy dread, innovative prose, and delightful dialogue.\\\" --Shelf Awareness

\\\"A love letter to horror films and creatives...damnably haunting and wicked as hell.\\\" --FanFiAddict

\\\"A metafictional reliquary--a haunted artifact masquerading as a novel, or perhaps the other way around. It is not a book to be read so much as inhabited. You do not finish it; you leave it. And when you do, the world outside is slightly less intact.\\\" --The Dark Forest

\\\"Simply excellent.\\\" --JamReads

\\\"Wehunt knows how to get under your skin.\\\" --Book Reporter

\\\"Wehunt has crafted something rare: a horror novel that frightens on multiple registers--viscerally, psychologically, and existentially.\\\" --The Bookish Elf

\\\"Terrifying perfection.\\\" --Macabre Daily

\\\"Downright chilling...[a] monumental novel.\\\" --Camera Macabre

\\\"Blending psychological, supernatural, and conspiracy horror into an engaging, unsettling trip through fandom and its adjacent obsession...as suspenseful as it is thought-provoking.\\\" --GeekDad

\"},{\"id\":\"127743838T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"2026 Bram Stoker Awards - Winner, Winner
\"},{\"id\":\"114964279T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Both a chilling tale and a thought-provoking examination of what it means to be a cult classic, The October Film Haunt is a wild and unexpected ride into the world of horror movies and the fans who take it too far.

\"},{\"id\":\"120600032T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

MICHAEL WEHUNT has been a finalist for multiple Shirley Jackson Awards and was shortlisted for the International Association for the Fantastic in the Arts' Crawford Award. In Spain, his stories have garnered nominations for the Premio Ignotus and Premio Amaltea, winning the latter. He haunts the woods outside Atlanta with his partner and their dog. Together, they hold the horrors at bay.

\"},{\"id\":\"114664992T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"112592876T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"MICHAEL WEHUNT has been a finalist for multiple Shirley Jackson Awards and was shortlisted for the International Association for the Fantastic in the Arts' Crawford Award. In Spain, his stories have garnered nominations for the Premio Ignotus and Premio Amaltea, winning the latter. He haunts the woods outside Atlanta with his partner and their dog. Together, they hold the horrors at bay.\"}]",{"_41":2306,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2307},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74375779844337","The-October-Film-Haunt/Michael-Wehunt",{"_41":2309,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2310},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74375779057905","1146657385",{"_41":2312,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74375779516657",{"_41":2314,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2289},"gid://shopify/Metafield/93622313681137",{"_41":2316,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2266},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74375778042097",{"_41":2318,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74375779614961",{"_41":2320,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2321},"gid://shopify/Metafield/83720033239281","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.8\"}",{"_41":2323,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2324},"gid://shopify/Metafield/83720033206513","27",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2326,"_71":2327,"_1905":2328,"_825":2329,"_1908":2330,"_1910":2331,"_1912":2332,"_1919":2336,"_1927":59,"_1928":2339,"_1934":2343,"_1955":2353,"_1956":2355,"_1958":2356,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2357},"gid://shopify/Product/9394795512049","Public Access Afterworld: A Novel","Hardcover","9780593978382","A mysterious realm on the other side of our screens. A dark force that draws victims into its static. The unlikely hero called to save them and herself from this electric hell. Public Access Afterworld is the profound, binge-all-night, headrush of a novel by the celebrated filmmaker of I Saw the TV Glow and Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma\"Beautiful, funny, and scathing . . . I stayed up all night binge-reading.\"-SenLinYu\"Gave me a vertiginous thrill I haven't encountered since David Mitchell.\"-Torrey Peters\"Psychedelic horror of the first order.\"-Grady Hendrix\"Heart-wrenching, hilarious, visionary, and so damned smart, this novel is a major work by a major writer.\"-Paul Tremblay\"Utterly hypnotic.\"-Lev Grossman\"Dazzling and politically acute, Schoenbrun's debut announces a major literary voice.\"-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)\"A dazzling story . . . a great American novel.\"-Publishers Weekly (starred review)One of Publishers Weekly's 10 Most Anticipated Books * One of the Most Anticipated Books of the Year: The Boston Globe, Lit Hub, The Chicago Review of Books, The Bookseller, Reactor, Book Riot, Crime Reads, Library Journal, Kirkus Reviews, and Debutiful Find the receiver. Make it real.At 5:35 p.m. on September 3, 1988, Dallas weatherman Ray \"Can You Say Sunshine\" Davino makes passing reference to Public Access Afterworld during a rambling monologue, right before he puts a gun to his head on live television and pulls the trigger.On June 12, 2009, David Sawyer and Erin Morrison, two lonely, TV-obsessed suburban teens who might be falling in love, gather in Erin's basement to watch TV's analog-to-digital transition. But in the static that follows, Erin witnesses surreal broadcasts from a pirate TV network called Public Access Afterworld, and their lives are changed forever.Seventeen years later, Bethany Peters toils through the night shift at megacorp GlobalVill's bleak Austin campus. A trans content moderator, she spends her evenings reviewing an endless stream of horrific videos. But then a young streamer begins to crop up in her feed calling out to Public Access Afterworld.But what is Public Access Afterworld?Spanning decades and realities, with an unforgettable ensemble of outcasts and nerds-especially the messy but wholly relatable Bethany, who must overcome paranoia and self-doubt to transform into a hero of our times-Public Access Afterworld will have you reading through the night and rooting for its characters to survive. A mesmerizing mash-up of speculative fiction, horror, and conspiracy, it marks the arrival of a major new force in contemporary fiction by a groundbreaking filmmaker who's been compared to David Lynch and Paul Thomas Anderson."," A mysterious realm on the other side of our screens. A dark force that draws victims into its static. The unlikely hero called to save them and herself from this electric hell. Public Access Afterworld is the profound, binge-all-night, headrush of a novel by the celebrated filmmaker of I Saw the TV Glow and Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma

\"Beautiful, funny, and scathing . . . I stayed up all night binge-reading.\"-SenLinYu
\"Gave me a vertiginous thrill I haven't encountered since David Mitchell.\"-Torrey Peters
\"Psychedelic horror of the first order.\"-Grady Hendrix
\"Heart-wrenching, hilarious, visionary, and so damned smart, this novel is a major work by a major writer.\"-Paul Tremblay
\"Utterly hypnotic.\"-Lev Grossman
\"Dazzling and politically acute, Schoenbrun's debut announces a major literary voice.\"-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
\"A dazzling story . . . a great American novel.\"-Publishers Weekly (starred review)

One of Publishers Weekly's 10 Most Anticipated Books * One of the Most Anticipated Books of the Year: The Boston Globe, Lit Hub, The Chicago Review of Books, The Bookseller, Reactor, Book Riot, Crime Reads, Library Journal, Kirkus Reviews, and Debutiful

Find the receiver. Make it real.

At 5:35 p.m. on September 3, 1988, Dallas weatherman Ray \"Can You Say Sunshine\" Davino makes passing reference to Public Access Afterworld during a rambling monologue, right before he puts a gun to his head on live television and pulls the trigger.

On June 12, 2009, David Sawyer and Erin Morrison, two lonely, TV-obsessed suburban teens who might be falling in love, gather in Erin's basement to watch TV's analog-to-digital transition. But in the static that follows, Erin witnesses surreal broadcasts from a pirate TV network called Public Access Afterworld, and their lives are changed forever.

Seventeen years later, Bethany Peters toils through the night shift at megacorp GlobalVill's bleak Austin campus. A trans content moderator, she spends her evenings reviewing an endless stream of horrific videos. But then a young streamer begins to crop up in her feed calling out to Public Access Afterworld.

But what is Public Access Afterworld?

Spanning decades and realities, with an unforgettable ensemble of outcasts and nerds-especially the messy but wholly relatable Bethany, who must overcome paranoia and self-doubt to transform into a hero of our times-Public Access Afterworld will have you reading through the night and rooting for its characters to survive. A mesmerizing mash-up of speculative fiction, horror, and conspiracy, it marks the arrival of a major new force in contemporary fiction by a groundbreaking filmmaker who's been compared to David Lynch and Paul Thomas Anderson.",{"_41":2333,"_54":2334,"_56":2335,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/49392824877297","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593978382_p0.jpg?v=1786075809",1315,{"_1921":2337},{"_1923":2338,"_1925":1926},"30.0",{"_1921":2340,"_1932":2342},{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},"33.0",{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2344},[2345],{"_41":2346,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":2347,"_705":2348,"_1943":2349,"_1945":2350,"_1947":2351,"_1953":2329,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47277996900593",{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},{"_41":2333,"_54":2334,"_1918":-5,"_56":2335,"_50":1917},{"_1923":2338,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2327,"_825":2329},[2352],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2354},"[\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"B|$3 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7847)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"25% Off the List Price on All Pre-Order Books (p9461)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\",\"Barnes & Noble Holiday Gift Guide (p5430)\"]",{"_1951":2329},{"_1951":2328},[2358,-5,-5,2361,2363,-5,2365,2368,2371,2374,2377,-5,2379,2381,-5,2383,2385,2387],{"_41":2359,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2360},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220795363569","[{\"contributorId\":31681133,\"fullName\":\"Jane Schoenbrun\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2362,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220795822321",{"_41":2364,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220795068657",{"_41":2366,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220795953393","118",{"_41":2369,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2370},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220798083313","[{\"id\":\"119773040T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"Adroitly beautiful, funny, and scathing, Public Access Afterworld is a book from a talented storyteller with much to say, who's not afraid to say it.\\\"-SenLinYu, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Alchemised

\\\"A reality-warping epic about friendship, transformation, and the internet that stretches across decades and dimensions.\\\"-New York

\\\"[An] electric, eerie, positively Schoenbrunian first novel.\\\"-The Boston Globe

\\\"Captivating.\\\"-Library Journal

\\\"A fever dream-esque love letter to television, the internet, science fiction, and nerds.\\\"-Reactor

\\\"Few artists are able to capture the disconnection, longing, and eeriness of the early internet age and the holes it created in our society [like Schoenbrun], and Public Access Afterworld continues that trend. It's like a creepypasta come to life, and I'm here for it.\\\"-Chicago Review of Books

\\\"The mastermind behind I Saw the TV Glow is releasing their debut novel, and I couldn't be more excited. This is one to pre-order without even reading the publicity copy to hype you up.\\\"-Debutiful

\\\"Psychedelic horror of the first order.\\\"-Grady Hendrix, New York Times bestselling author of Witchcraft for Wayward Girls

\\\"Gave me a vertiginous thrill I haven't encountered since David Mitchell . . . the kind of epic book that doesn't just warp reality on the page but goes on warping it when you look up-you read the novel and the world glints with secrets anew.\\\"-Torrey Peters, author of Stag Dance and Detransition, Baby

\\\"A thriller unlike any other . . . strange, urgent, utterly . . . hypnotic-once you start reading Public Access Afterworld, you won't stop.\\\"-Lev Grossman, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Magicians

\\\"A riot in novel form by an author with an utterly singular, original vision . . . will leave you breathless and desperate for a sequel.\\\"-Kaliane Bradley, New York Times bestselling author of The Ministry of Time

\\\"Thrilling, heart-wrenching, hilarious, visionary, and so damned smart, this novel is a major work from a major talent.\\\"-Paul Tremblay, New York Times bestselling author of Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep

\\\"Schoenbrun, whose films We're All Going to the World's Fair and I Saw the TV Glow mark them as among the most original voices in independent cinema, brings their signature preoccupations to fiction with stunning ambition.\\\"-Kirkus Reviews, starred review

\\\"Such a compulsive read. Dark and glittering and full of static. Huzzah. Neon sign: So, so much fun.\\\"-Helen Macdonald, bestselling author of H Is for Hawk

\\\"A psychedelic work of genius.\\\"-Newsday

\\\"Schoenbrun is already well-known for their films, and this book is just as awesome as their growing oeuvre. . . . So good!\\\"-Crime Reads

\\\"A fever dream-esque love letter to television, the internet, science fiction, and nerds.\\\"-Reactor

\\\"This genre-bending epic about transition and connection has a cultish appeal sure to garner devoted fans. Think Stranger Things, Cloud Atlas or A Visit from the Goon Squad . . . [A] startlingly inventive fiction debut.\\\"-The Bookseller

\\\"A dazzling story . . . a great American novel.\\\"-Publishers Weekly, starred review

\\\"Following two basement teens who experience an extra-strange analog-to-digital transition-care of the pirate TV network that gives the novel its name-this one looks thrillingly original.\\\"-Literary Hub
\"},{\"id\":\"130259677T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"Adroitly beautiful, funny, and scathing, Public Access Afterworld is a book from a talented storyteller with much to say, who's not afraid to say it.\\\"--SenLinYu, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Alchemised

\\\"A reality-warping epic about friendship, transformation, and the internet that stretches across decades and dimensions.\\\"--New York

\\\"[An] electric, eerie, positively Schoenbrunian first novel.\\\"--The Boston Globe

\\\"Captivating.\\\"--Library Journal

\\\"A fever dream-esque love letter to television, the internet, science fiction, and nerds.\\\"--Reactor

\\\"Few artists are able to capture the disconnection, longing, and eeriness of the early internet age and the holes it created in our society [like Schoenbrun], and Public Access Afterworld continues that trend. It's like a creepypasta come to life, and I'm here for it.\\\"--Chicago Review of Books

\\\"The mastermind behind I Saw the TV Glow is releasing their debut novel, and I couldn't be more excited. This is one to pre-order without even reading the publicity copy to hype you up.\\\"--Debutiful

\\\"Psychedelic horror of the first order.\\\"--Grady Hendrix, New York Times bestselling author of Witchcraft for Wayward Girls

\\\"Gave me a vertiginous thrill I haven't encountered since David Mitchell . . . the kind of epic book that doesn't just warp reality on the page but goes on warping it when you look up--you read the novel and the world glints with secrets anew.\\\"--Torrey Peters, author of Stag Dance and Detransition, Baby

\\\"A thriller unlike any other . . . strange, urgent, utterly . . . hypnotic--once you start reading Public Access Afterworld, you won't stop.\\\"--Lev Grossman, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Magicians

\\\"A riot in novel form by an author with an utterly singular, original vision . . . will leave you breathless and desperate for a sequel.\\\"--Kaliane Bradley, New York Times bestselling author of The Ministry of Time

\\\"Thrilling, heart-wrenching, hilarious, visionary, and so damned smart, this novel is a major work from a major talent.\\\"--Paul Tremblay, New York Times bestselling author of Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep

\\\"Schoenbrun, whose films We're All Going to the World's Fair and I Saw the TV Glow mark them as among the most original voices in independent cinema, brings their signature preoccupations to fiction with stunning ambition.\\\"--Kirkus Reviews, starred review

\\\"Such a compulsive read. Dark and glittering and full of static. Huzzah. Neon sign: So, so much fun.\\\"--Helen Macdonald, bestselling author of H Is for Hawk

\\\"A psychedelic work of genius.\\\"--Newsday

\\\"Schoenbrun is already well-known for their films, and this book is just as awesome as their growing oeuvre. . . . So good!\\\"--Crime Reads

\\\"A fever dream-esque love letter to television, the internet, science fiction, and nerds.\\\"--Reactor

\\\"This genre-bending epic about transition and connection has a cultish appeal sure to garner devoted fans. Think Stranger Things, Cloud Atlas or A Visit from the Goon Squad . . . [A] startlingly inventive fiction debut.\\\"--The Bookseller

\\\"A dazzling story . . . a great American novel.\\\"--Publishers Weekly, starred review

\\\"Following two basement teens who experience an extra-strange analog-to-digital transition--care of the pirate TV network that gives the novel its name--this one looks thrillingly original.\\\"--Literary Hub
\"},{\"id\":\"125997626T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

What is Public Access Afterworld? It’s only been whispered about for decades. But when a content moderator discovers the horrific realm beyond the static, a harrowing mystery unfolds in this debut novel from the filmmaker behind I Saw the TV Glow.

\"},{\"id\":\"119773041T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Jane Schoenbrun is an award-winning filmmaker and writer. Their films include I Saw the TV Glow, We're All Going to the World's Fair, and Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma starring Gillian Anderson and Hannah Einbinder. Public Access Afterworld is their first novel.

\"},{\"id\":\"132280745T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"125750494T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Jane Schoenbrun is an award-winning filmmaker and writer. Their films include I Saw the TV Glow and We're All Going to the World's Fair. Their newest film, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma starring Gillian Anderson and Hannah Einbinder, releases in 2026. Public Access Afterworld is their first novel.

\"},{\"id\":\"132280528T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2372,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2373},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220797034737","Public-Access-Afterworld/Jane-Schoenbrun",{"_41":2375,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2376},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220794872049","1148854163",{"_41":2378,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220795658481",{"_41":2380,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2354},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682491453681",{"_41":2382,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2329},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220793463025",{"_41":2384,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74220796117233",{"_41":2386,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2195},"gid://shopify/Metafield/81833787752689",{"_41":2388,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2050},"gid://shopify/Metafield/81833787719921",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2390,"_71":2391,"_1905":2392,"_825":2393,"_1908":2394,"_1910":2395,"_1912":2396,"_1919":2400,"_1927":59,"_1928":2403,"_1934":2406,"_1955":2416,"_1956":2418,"_1958":2419,"_1960":2420,"_1961":2422},"gid://shopify/Product/8849712808177","Home Is Where the Bodies Are (B&N Exclusive Edition)","BN Exclusive","9798228356115","This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition includes a special Author's Note describing the inspiration for the novel, as well as the author's own photos taken at actual locations described in the book.From New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Marriage and You Shouldn't Have Come Here comes a chilling family thriller about the (sometimes literal) skeletons in the closet.After their mother passes, three estranged siblings reunite to sort out her estate. Beth, the oldest, never left home. She stayed with her mom, caring for her until the very end. Nicole, the middle child, has been kept at arm's length due to her ongoing battle with a serious drug addiction. Michael, the youngest, lives out of state and hasn't been back to their small Wisconsin town since their father ran out on them seven years before.While going through their parent's belongings, the siblings stumble upon a collection of home videos and decide to revisit those happier memories. However, the nostalgia is cut short when one of the VHS tapes reveals a night back in 1999 that none of them have any recollection of. On screen, their father appears covered in blood. What follows is a dead body and a pact between their parents to get rid of it, before the video abruptly ends.Beth, Nicole, and Michael must now decide whether to leave the past in the past or uncover the dark secret their mother took to her grave.","

This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition includes a special Author's Note describing the inspiration for the novel, as well as the author's own photos taken at actual locations described in the book.

From New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Marriage and You Shouldn't Have Come Here comes a chilling family thriller about the (sometimes literal) skeletons in the closet.

After their mother passes, three estranged siblings reunite to sort out her estate. Beth, the oldest, never left home. She stayed with her mom, caring for her until the very end. Nicole, the middle child, has been kept at arm's length due to her ongoing battle with a serious drug addiction. Michael, the youngest, lives out of state and hasn't been back to their small Wisconsin town since their father ran out on them seven years before.

While going through their parent's belongings, the siblings stumble upon a collection of home videos and decide to revisit those happier memories. However, the nostalgia is cut short when one of the VHS tapes reveals a night back in 1999 that none of them have any recollection of. On screen, their father appears covered in blood. What follows is a dead body and a pact between their parents to get rid of it, before the video abruptly ends.

Beth, Nicole, and Michael must now decide whether to leave the past in the past or uncover the dark secret their mother took to her grave.

",{"_41":2397,"_54":2398,"_56":2399,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47657725427953","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9798228356115_p0.jpg?v=1768972672",1249,{"_1921":2401},{"_1923":2402,"_1925":1926},"15.99",{"_1921":2404,"_1932":2405},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2407},[2408],{"_41":2409,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":2410,"_705":2411,"_1943":2412,"_1945":2413,"_1947":2414,"_1953":2393,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46247921746161",{"_1923":1924,"_1925":1926},{"_41":2397,"_54":2398,"_1918":-5,"_56":2399,"_50":1917},{"_1923":2402,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2391,"_825":2393},[2415],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2417},"[\"Barnes & Noble Exclusives (p6314)\",\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"Special Editions (p10264)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"B|B&N Exclusive|#956F2D|#4C3E1B (p7920)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_1951":2393},{"_1951":2392},{"_1951":2421},"[{\"Key\":\"formatChicletOverlay\",\"Value\":\"BN Exclusive\"}]",[2423,-5,-5,2426,2428,-5,2430,2432,2435,2438,2441,-5,2443,2445,-5,2447,2449,2451],{"_41":2424,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2425},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807790153969","[{\"contributorId\":22420068,\"fullName\":\"Jeneva Rose\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2427,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72678553420017",{"_41":2429,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2392},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807789596913",{"_41":2431,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807790547185",{"_41":2433,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2434},"gid://shopify/Metafield/72678553616625","[{\"id\":\"92434761T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

When the past unexpectedly comes back, it's up to three siblings to decide what happens next. This harrowing thriller is unique in premise, sharp in prose and rich in twists, turns and every other form of misdirection. With underlying themes of family and how our pasts define us, there are layers to peel back to get the full scope of the story.

\"},{\"id\":\"92032640T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Jeneva Rose is the New York Times bestselling author of several novels, including The Perfect Marriage, One of Us Is Dead, and You Shouldn’t Have Come Here. Her work has been translated into more than two dozen languages and optioned for film and television. Originally from Wisconsin, she currently lives in Chicago with her husband, Drew, and her stubborn English bulldog, Winston.

\"}]",{"_41":2436,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2437},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807791759601","Home-Is-Where-the-Bodies-Are/Jeneva-Rose",{"_41":2439,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2440},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807789236465","1143813811",{"_41":2442,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807790448881",{"_41":2444,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2417},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807792840945",{"_41":2446,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2393},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807787008241",{"_41":2448,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39807790645489",{"_41":2450,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2074},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61183339036913",{"_41":2452,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2453},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61183339004145","48",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2455,"_71":2456,"_1905":1906,"_825":2457,"_1908":2458,"_1910":2459,"_1912":2460,"_1919":2464,"_1927":59,"_1928":2467,"_1934":2471,"_1955":2481,"_1956":2483,"_1958":2484,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2485},"gid://shopify/Product/8833296171249","Horror Movie: A Novel","9780063070028","A special limited paperback edition with stenciled artwork on the edges of the New York Times bestseller-a chilling twist on the \"cursed film\" genre from the author of The Pallbearers Club and The Cabin at the End of the World.In June 1993, a group of young guerilla filmmakers spent four weeks making Horror Movie, a notorious piece of found footage horror and a disturbing, art-house flick.The weird part? Only three of the film's scenes were ever released to the public, but Horror Movie has nevertheless grown a rabid fanbase. Three decades later, Hollywood is pushing for a big budget reboot.The man who played \"The Thin Kid\" is the only surviving cast member. He remembers all too well the secrets buried within the original screenplay, the bizarre events of the filming, and the dangerous crossed lines on set that resulted in tragedy. As memories flood back in, the boundaries between reality and film, past and present start to blur for the film's now unreliable narrator. But he's going to help remake the film, even if it means navigating a world of cynical producers, egomaniacal directors, and surreal fan conventions-demons of the past be damned.But at what cost?This meta horror novel, Horror Movie, is an obsessive, psychologically chilling, and suspenseful feat of storytelling genius that builds inexorably to an unforgettable, mind-bending conclusion.","

A special limited paperback edition with stenciled artwork on the edges of the New York Times bestseller-a chilling twist on the \"cursed film\" genre from the author of The Pallbearers Club and The Cabin at the End of the World.

In June 1993, a group of young guerilla filmmakers spent four weeks making Horror Movie, a notorious piece of found footage horror and a disturbing, art-house flick.

The weird part? Only three of the film's scenes were ever released to the public, but Horror Movie has nevertheless grown a rabid fanbase. Three decades later, Hollywood is pushing for a big budget reboot.

The man who played \"The Thin Kid\" is the only surviving cast member. He remembers all too well the secrets buried within the original screenplay, the bizarre events of the filming, and the dangerous crossed lines on set that resulted in tragedy. As memories flood back in, the boundaries between reality and film, past and present start to blur for the film's now unreliable narrator. But he's going to help remake the film, even if it means navigating a world of cynical producers, egomaniacal directors, and surreal fan conventions-demons of the past be damned.

But at what cost?

This meta horror novel, Horror Movie, is an obsessive, psychologically chilling, and suspenseful feat of storytelling genius that builds inexorably to an unforgettable, mind-bending conclusion.

",{"_41":2461,"_54":2462,"_56":2463,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47634018402545","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063070028_p0.jpg?v=1768988795",1333,{"_1921":2465},{"_1923":2466,"_1925":1926},"16.99",{"_1921":2468,"_1932":2470},{"_1923":2469,"_1925":1926},"19.99",{"_1923":2469,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2472},[2473],{"_41":2474,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":2475,"_705":2476,"_1943":2477,"_1945":2478,"_1947":2479,"_1953":2457,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229132017905",{"_1923":2469,"_1925":1926},{"_41":2461,"_54":2462,"_1918":-5,"_56":2463,"_50":1917},{"_1923":2466,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2456,"_825":2457},[2480],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2482},"[\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"B|$3 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7847)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"BADGE - 15% OFF (p7872)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_1951":2457},{"_1951":1906},[2486,-5,-5,2489,2491,-5,2493,2495,2498,2501,2504,-5,2506,2508,-5,2510,2512,2515],{"_41":2487,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2488},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011140763889","[{\"contributorId\":5168562,\"fullName\":\"Paul Tremblay\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2490,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011142238449",{"_41":2492,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011139059953",{"_41":2494,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011142566129",{"_41":2496,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2497},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011147874545","[{\"id\":\"114659593T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\\\"In Horror Movie, horror master Paul Tremblay plays with perception and reality, fiction and real life opens and swallows us whole. This nesting doll of a novel, a book that Judy Blume and Philip K. Dick might have jointly conceived, tests the limits of what a horror thriller can be, and it succeeds thrillingly.\\\" - Boston Globe

\\\"An enticing premise deftly spun by stellar horror author Paul Tremblay. Sardonic and genuinely startling, Horror Movie is a page-turner for any genre buff.\\\" - Entertainment Weekly

\\\"Balancing a terrifying cursed film with examinations of artistic creation, fandom, and truth, Tremblay's latest is smart and well-paced and will have broad appeal.\\\" - Library Journal (starred review)

\\\"Spooky, heavily atmospheric, and loaded with dread, Horror Movie digs deep into the feeling horror gives us to examine how art imitates life and the disturbing result when life imitates art. Tremblay's best work yet.\\\"

- Craig DiLouie, author of How to Make a Horror Movie and Survive

\\\"Horror Movie is strange and unsettling in the best way possible. . . . Tremblay's unique voice and chameleonic style have made him one of the leading voices in speculative fiction, and this is one of his best novels so far.\\\" - NPR

\\\"A fever dream about despair and regret that will stay with you long after the credits have rolled.\\\" - Kirkus Reviews

\\\"Tremblay is often (and rightfully) recognized as one of the great contemporary horror writers. . . . As I read Horror Movie, I found myself marveling at its high-wire act: The novel hopscotches deftly among three timelines, interspersed with scenes from the screenplay...It takes bravado and skill to layer overlapping narrative frames like this without sacrificing tension, but Horror Movie never once loses its momentum or its way. It's a smart book, smartly told, and should establish Tremblay as not just one of our great horror writers but one of our great fiction writers, full stop.\\\"

- New York Times

\\\"Tremblay raises the bar for the cursed film trope with a novel that cleverly breaks the fourth wall between imaginary horrors and their real-world repercussions. . . . Readers won't want to miss out.\\\" - Publishers Weekly (starred review)

\\\"Macabrely funny and incredibly smart, Horror Movie cements Tremblay's place as a master of horror. It encapsulates the unease of right now -- a runaway culture of self-reference with bloody hands. It's everything a horror novel ought to be: lean, mean, and genuinely scary.\\\" - Sarah Langan, author of Good Neighbors and A Better World

\\\"A profound, heart-wrenching, terrifyingly honest novel that's also a cinematic page-turner. Horror Movie zooms in on creation and consumption, integrity and ego, admiration and obsession, and how the desperate search for connection through art can be beautiful, or disastrous. This book is a gift and a curse.\\\" - Rachel Harrison, nationally bestselling author of Black Sheep

\\\"Paul Tremblay is one of the most terrifying horror writers of his generation and his new chiller, Horror Movie, is a reason for excitement.\\\" - Joe Hill, #1 New York Times bestselling author

\\\"Horror Movie is not only a haunting, unsettling, and utterly absorbing novel-it is also a twisted manifesto for art and the parts of ourselves we shed in order to create it. It messed with my head and I loved every minute of it.\\\"

- Clémence Michallon, internationally bestselling author of The Quiet Tenant

\\\"In the hands of Paul Tremblay the story of a lost movie becomes a reflection on fear, the monsters we all are, and an investigation of what is a 'horror novel.' It's bold, fearless, a bit sad, and very, very scary.\\\"

- Mariana Enriquez, author of Our Share of Night and Things We Lost in the Fire

\\\"Tremblay returns with a terrifying novel about the creation of art and its effect on all it touches. . . A suspenseful story that is marked by its relentless unease and disturbing revelations about the characters, yes, but also about the readers themselves. An immersive reading experience that will forever alter the way those who encounter it watch horror movies.\\\" - Booklist (starred review)

\\\"Paul Tremblay's Horror Movie is a brilliant piece about the masks we know about and the masks we don't, the ones we're forced to wear for a lifetime because of our depression and the things we create to make sense of terrible things. He captures the fugue of being young, of finding a bridge to immortality when you're invulnerable, of making mistakes you can't take back. It is intimately heartbreaking and beautifully written, and it's scary in a way that attaches itself to your shame and self-loathing and just starts eating away. It's extraordinary.\\\" - Walter Chaw, author of A Walter Hill Film

\\\"Uncertainty is Tremblay's stock-in-trade. Over the last decade, he has grown from hot new thing to horror icon without compromising on his uniquely inexplicable nightmares.\\\" - Esquire

\\\"A tremendous book―thought-provoking and terrifying, with tension that winds up like a chain. The Cabin at the End of the World is Tremblay's personal best. It's that good.\\\" - Stephen King

\\\"The Cabin at the End of the World... will shape your nightmares for months-that's pretty much guaranteed. That's what it's built for. And there's a very, very good chance you'll never get it out of your head again.\\\" - NPR

\\\"More than a dozen horror stories-weird, self-referential, expertly told. [The] quirkily magisterial title entry delivers a grim vision of hubris and collective apathy . . . It is all, frankly, riveting. . . . What seems to matter, in all these stories, aren't the specifics of a grisly end but the emotions they conjure, the way they tinge our own reality after we turn the page.\\\" - New York Times on The Beast You Are

\"},{\"id\":\"131721960T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\\\"An enticing premise deftly spun by stellar horror author Paul Tremblay. Sardonic and genuinely startling, Horror Movie is a page-turner for any genre buff.\\\" - Entertainment Weekly

- Craig DiLouie, author of How to Make a Horror Movie and Survive

\\\"A fever dream about despair and regret that will stay with you long after the credits have rolled.\\\" - Kirkus Reviews

- New York Times

\\\"Horror Movie is not only a haunting, unsettling, and utterly absorbing novel--it is also a twisted manifesto for art and the parts of ourselves we shed in order to create it. It messed with my head and I loved every minute of it.\\\"

- Clémence Michallon, internationally bestselling author of The Quiet Tenant

- Mariana Enriquez, author of Our Share of Night and Things We Lost in the Fire

\\\"Uncertainty is Tremblay's stock-in-trade. Over the last decade, he has grown from hot new thing to horror icon without compromising on his uniquely inexplicable nightmares.\\\" - Esquire

\\\"The Cabin at the End of the World... will shape your nightmares for months--that's pretty much guaranteed. That's what it's built for. And there's a very, very good chance you'll never get it out of your head again.\\\" - NPR

\\\"More than a dozen horror stories--weird, self-referential, expertly told. [The] quirkily magisterial title entry delivers a grim vision of hubris and collective apathy . . . It is all, frankly, riveting. . . . What seems to matter, in all these stories, aren't the specifics of a grisly end but the emotions they conjure, the way they tinge our own reality after we turn the page.\\\" - New York Times on The Beast You Are

\"},{\"id\":\"96502320T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

From horror maestro Paul Tremblay, Horror Movie is another shimmering story built on the precariousness of not knowing. Akin to "theater of the mind," it's an unsettling spiral into true terror.

\"},{\"id\":\"114659594T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Paul Tremblay is the multiple award-winning, critically acclaimed, New York Times bestselling author of eight previous novels (Horror Movie, The Pallbearers Club, Survivor Song, The Cabin at the End of the World, Disappearance at Devil's Rock, A Head Full of Ghosts, No Sleep Till Wonderland, and The Little Sleep); a middle-grade novel, Another; and two short fiction collections (The Beast You Are and Growing Things). He lives outside of Boston with his family.

\"},{\"id\":\"107664671T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Paul Tremblay is the multiple award—winning, critically acclaimed, New York Times bestselling author of eight previous novels (Horror Movie, The Pallbearers Club, Survivor Song, The Cabin at the End of the World, Disappearance at Devil's Rock, A Head Full of Ghosts, No Sleep Till Wonderland, and The Little Sleep) and two short fiction collections (The Beast You Are and Growing Things). He lives outside of Boston with his family.

\"},{\"id\":\"118521797T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"91366869T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Paul Tremblay is the multiple award—winning, critically acclaimed, New York Times bestselling author of eight previous novels (Horror Movie, The Pallbearers Club, Survivor Song, The Cabin at the End of the World, Disappearance at Devil's Rock, A Head Full of Ghosts, No Sleep Till Wonderland, and The Little Sleep) and two short fiction collections (The Beast You Are and Growing Things). He lives outside of Boston with his family.

\"},{\"id\":\"97998711T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

Paul Tremblay has won the Bram Stoker, British Fantasy, Sheridan Le Fanu, and Massachusetts Book Awards and is the New York Times bestselling author of Horror Movie: A Novel, The Beast You Are, The Pallbearers Club, Survivor Song, Growing Things and Other Stories, Disappearance at Devil's Rock, A Head Full of Ghosts, and the crime novels The Little Sleep and No Sleep Till Wonderland. His novel The Cabin at the End of the World was adapted into the Universal Pictures film Knock at the Cabin.

His essays and short fiction have appeared in the New York Times, Boston Globe, Los Angeles Times, and numerous \\\"year's best\\\" anthologies. He lives outside of Boston, Massachusetts, with his family and has a master's degree in mathematics.

\"}]",{"_41":2499,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2500},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011145810161","Horror-Movie/Paul-Tremblay",{"_41":2502,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2503},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011137618161","1144117219",{"_41":2505,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011141910769",{"_41":2507,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2482},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011148595441",{"_41":2509,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2457},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011130966257",{"_41":2511,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39011142992113",{"_41":2513,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2514},"gid://shopify/Metafield/63916922700017","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.4\"}",{"_41":2516,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2517},"gid://shopify/Metafield/63916922667249","23",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2519,"_71":2520,"_1905":1906,"_825":2521,"_1908":2522,"_1910":2523,"_1912":2524,"_1919":2528,"_1927":59,"_1928":2530,"_1934":2533,"_1955":-5,"_1956":2542,"_1958":2543,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2544},"gid://shopify/Product/8871421935857","Mister Magic: A Novel","9780593359280","NATIONAL BESTSELLER • Who is Mister Magic? Former child stars reunite to uncover the tragedy that ended their show—and discover the secret of its enigmatic host—in this “skin-crawling story of pop culture fandom and ‘90s nostalgia” (Melissa Albert, author of The Hazel Woods) from the author of Hide. “[A] propulsive, exciting, often genuinely scary, endlessly compelling mystery.”—Terry Miles, author of RabbitsA BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: PopSugar, Polygon, Chicago Public Library, CrimeReadsThirty years after a tragic accident shut down production of the classic children’s program Mister Magic, the five surviving cast members have done their best to move on. But just as generations of cultishly devoted fans still cling to the lessons they learned from the show, the cast, known as the Circle of Friends, have spent their lives searching for the happiness they felt while they were on it. The friendship. The feeling of belonging. And the protection of Mister Magic. But with no surviving video of the show, no evidence of who directed or produced it, and no records of who—or what—the beloved host actually was, memories are all the former Circle of Friends has. Then a twist of fate brings the castmates back together at the remote desert filming compound that feels like it’s been waiting for them all this time. Even though they haven’t seen each other for years, they understand one another better than anyone has since. After all, they’re the only ones who hold the secret of that circle, the mystery of the magic man in his infinitely black cape, and, maybe, the answers to what really happened on that deadly last day. But as the Circle of Friends reclaim parts of their past, they begin to wonder: Are they here by choice, or have they been lured into a trap? Because magic never forgets the taste of your friendship. . . .","NATIONAL BESTSELLER • Who is Mister Magic? Former child stars reunite to uncover the tragedy that ended their show—and discover the secret of its enigmatic host—in this “skin-crawling story of pop culture fandom and ‘90s nostalgia” (Melissa Albert, author of The Hazel Woods) from the author of Hide.

“[A] propulsive, exciting, often genuinely scary, endlessly compelling mystery.”—Terry Miles, author of Rabbits

A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: PopSugar, Polygon, Chicago Public Library, CrimeReads

Thirty years after a tragic accident shut down production of the classic children’s program Mister Magic, the five surviving cast members have done their best to move on. But just as generations of cultishly devoted fans still cling to the lessons they learned from the show, the cast, known as the Circle of Friends, have spent their lives searching for the happiness they felt while they were on it. The friendship. The feeling of belonging. And the protection of Mister Magic.

But with no surviving video of the show, no evidence of who directed or produced it, and no records of who—or what—the beloved host actually was, memories are all the former Circle of Friends has.

Then a twist of fate brings the castmates back together at the remote desert filming compound that feels like it’s been waiting for them all this time. Even though they haven’t seen each other for years, they understand one another better than anyone has since.

After all, they’re the only ones who hold the secret of that circle, the mystery of the magic man in his infinitely black cape, and, maybe, the answers to what really happened on that deadly last day. But as the Circle of Friends reclaim parts of their past, they begin to wonder: Are they here by choice, or have they been lured into a trap?

Because magic never forgets the taste of your friendship. . . .",{"_41":2525,"_54":2526,"_56":2527,"_50":2088,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47559852589297","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593359280_p0.jpg?v=1768955718",903,{"_1921":2529},{"_1923":2275,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":2531,"_1932":2532},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2534},[2535],{"_41":2536,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2537,"_1943":2538,"_1945":2539,"_1947":2540,"_1953":2521,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46271911428337",{"_41":2525,"_54":2526,"_1918":-5,"_56":2527,"_50":2088},{"_1923":2275,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2520,"_825":2521},[2541],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2521},{"_1951":1906},[2545,-5,-5,2548,2550,-5,2552,2554,2557,2560,2563,-5,-5,2565,-5,2567,2569,2572],{"_41":2546,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2547},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859425046769","[{\"contributorId\":11580806,\"fullName\":\"Kiersten White\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2549,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859425702129",{"_41":2551,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859424784625",{"_41":2553,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859425800433",{"_41":2555,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2556},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859427864817","[{\"id\":\"121794020T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"One

The thing is, the doors were open that morning.

Val knows—she knows, she knows—that waking up to find both doors of their sagging cabin opened wide to the world is probably only because Dad wasn’t sleeping well, and that she should tie a bell to his foot before bed tonight. Just in case.

But.

An open door is an invitation, she whispers to herself. And she keeps the doors to their cabin firmly closed all the time. She’ll have one of the ranch hands rig up some sort of lock system, up high, where Dad won’t be able to reach it.

That’ll fix it. She can stop worrying.

She doesn’t, though. She worries through the morning riding lessons, worries through lunch with the camp full of awkwardly pubescing little delights, worries through the early-afternoon group activities, more riding, cleanup. All her favorite things—especially the cleanup, knowing parents are paying a small fortune so their daughters can spend the week doing the chores Val hates most—are eaten up by the worry.

By late afternoon she’s mostly shaken it off, though. Sometimes an open door is just an open door. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

One of the girls, Lola, freckled and sunburned and wonderful, raises her hand. “Miss Val?”

“You know where the bathroom is,” Val answers. “You don’t have to ask when you need to go.” It’s almost time for pickup, which means she needs to get Poppy from the goat pen. The other five dusty and happy and tired campers are here with Val, finishing up in the stables.

“No!” Lola giggles shyly. “It’s not that. Do you have any kids?”

An image flashes in Val’s mind. A girl, even younger than these, her brown hair forever fighting to escape messy pigtails, with eyes so blue they break her heart. Val smiles. “Not yet, but I know there’s one in my future.”

“How?” another camper, Hannah, asks, wrinkling her nose beneath smudged glasses. Val resists the impulse to clean them for her. Independence is part of what her camps promise, even if it means dirty glasses. Val’s been running the summer programs for Gloria’s Ranch since she was twenty, and they’re the absolute highlight of her whole year.

Val shrugs. “I’ve always known.”

“But aren’t you getting too old?”

Val lifts an eyebrow. Lola scowls and elbows Hannah, but Val shakes her head. “No, it’s okay to ask questions. Questions are how we get to know the world. And the answer is, I’m not too old. Not yet.”

Her heart ticks like a clock, but she still has time. Val’s belief in her blue-eyed girl is as solid as her belief in gravity. The when and the how are questions she doesn’t let herself ask. It’s easy not to ask questions. Take the question, put it behind a door. Close the door. Leave nothing open. She is aware of the hypocrisy of always encouraging her students to ask questions when she denies herself the same freedom, but there’s a whole door in her head just for the cognitive dissonance of Do what I say, not what I do.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lola blurts out, and suddenly this interrogation makes sense. Lola’s father finds excuses to linger at every drop-off and pickup.

“Only when I want to,” Val answers. “Sometimes I have a girlfriend.” Though boyfriend and girlfriend are generous terms for the relationships she allows herself to have.

Still, her answer has the desired effect of rapidly changing the subject as all the girls’ eyes go wide. Val can see the follow-up questions bubbling, but they don’t have time. She has to get to Poppy before—

“Damn it,” Val whispers under her breath. Poppy’s mother has already pulled up in a Mercedes SUV that has about as much functionality as the designer boots she sent Poppy in for the first day. And Poppy’s still in the goat pen instead of the stables.

Val claps her hands. “Okay! Last one out of their barn clothes has to muck out Stormy’s stall tomorrow!”

The girls shriek and dart away to remove the coveralls and boots Val gives them to protect the too-cute clothes their parents always have them wear. Val cuts across the dusty path to intercept Poppy’s mom before Poppy hears what’s about to happen.

“Hi,” Val says. She can’t recall the woman’s name. She never can with other adults. It’s hard to care.

The sunglasses come up, pushed onto carefully styled hair. “What’s Poppy doing in the goat pen?”

“She’s working with our baby goats, Luke and Leia, training them to—”

“I’m paying you for riding lessons!”

Parents always trot that out as leverage, but technically she isn’t paying Val at all. Val doesn’t get paid. She smiles politely. “You’re paying for a week of day camp at Gloria’s Ranch, which includes experiences with a variety of animals. And can include riding lessons, if the girls want that, which Poppy does not.”

“It’s not up to her! I want her to learn how to ride!”

Val resists the urge to smack the sunglasses off the woman’s head. “Poppy is spending a week outside building confidence with friends and animals. Do you want me to force her into a saddle and watch her have a panic attack? Because that’s not safe for Poppy or the horse.”

“But I’m paying—”

“No.” Val cuts her off. “Look at your daughter. Right now.”

Poppy’s perched on top of a bale of hay, expression intense with concentration as she balances next to a tiny baby goat. She gives a command, then jumps off and turns around expectantly. The goat follows. Poppy whoops in delighted triumph.

“But—” the mom says, her anger deflated in the face of Poppy’s elation.

“She’s afraid of horses. It’s a perfectly rational fear. Horses are terrifying creatures. Barrel chests and pin legs and have you seen their teeth?”

The woman raises a perfect eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re scared of them.”

“Oh, absolutely I am. I ignore it because I have to. But there’s no reason for Poppy to overcome this particular fear. No one needs to ride horses. She’s a remarkable little girl, and when she grows into a remarkable adult, she’ll remember how her mother listened to her and helped her find other things she was good at.”

The woman sighs out the last of her anger. “She does look happy.”

“And filthy.” Val wrinkles her nose. She’s not even pleased that she convinced this woman she was right. It was always going to go this way. When Val sets her mind to something, it happens.

The woman laughs, fully won over. “And filthy.”

“Poppy! Into the barn!” Val points and Poppy hops across the pen like a little goat herself.

“I really wanted to buy her cute riding clothes,” her mother says, wistful.

Sometimes Val forgets that adults are just children with both more and less autonomy. She smiles slyly and nudges the woman with her shoulder. “You know, we have riding classes for adults, too, and you’d look fabulous in a new riding outfit.”

Val’s rewarded with another laugh and a thoughtful glance toward the stables. The woman’s already picking out which horse is prettiest, probably imagining owning one herself. Good for business if she stables it here.

What would we do without you, Val? Gloria asks in her mind, and Val thinks back what she always does: You’ll never have to find out.

It tastes bitter today.\"},{\"id\":\"94997246T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"One

The thing is, the doors were open that morning.

Val knows—she knows, she knows—that waking up to find both doors of their sagging cabin opened wide to the world is probably only because Dad wasn’t sleeping well, and that she should tie a bell to his foot before bed tonight. Just in case.

But.

An open door is an invitation, she whispers to herself. And she keeps the doors to their cabin firmly closed all the time. She’ll have one of the ranch hands rig up some sort of lock system, up high, where Dad won’t be able to reach it.

That’ll fix it. She can stop worrying.

She doesn’t, though. She worries through the morning riding lessons, worries through lunch with the camp full of awkwardly pubescing little delights, worries through the early-afternoon group activities, more riding, cleanup. All her favorite things—especially the cleanup, knowing parents are paying a small fortune so their daughters can spend the week doing the chores Val hates most—are eaten up by the worry.

By late afternoon she’s mostly shaken it off, though. Sometimes an open door is just an open door. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

One of the girls, Lola, freckled and sunburned and wonderful, raises her hand. “Miss Val?”

“You know where the bathroom is,” Val answers. “You don’t have to ask when you need to go.” It’s almost time for pickup, which means she needs to get Poppy from the goat pen. The other five dusty and happy and tired campers are here with Val, finishing up in the stables.

“No!” Lola giggles shyly. “It’s not that. Do you have any kids?”

An image flashes in Val’s mind. A girl, even younger than these, her brown hair forever fighting to escape messy pigtails, with eyes so blue they break her heart. Val smiles. “Not yet, but I know there’s one in my future.”

“How?” another camper, Hannah, asks, wrinkling her nose beneath smudged glasses. Val resists the impulse to clean them for her. Independence is part of what her camps promise, even if it means dirty glasses. Val’s been running the summer programs for Gloria’s Ranch since she was twenty, and they’re the absolute highlight of her whole year.

Val shrugs. “I’ve always known.”

“But aren’t you getting too old?”

Val lifts an eyebrow. Lola scowls and elbows Hannah, but Val shakes her head. “No, it’s okay to ask questions. Questions are how we get to know the world. And the answer is, I’m not too old. Not yet.”

Her heart ticks like a clock, but she still has time. Val’s belief in her blue-eyed girl is as solid as her belief in gravity. The when and the how are questions she doesn’t let herself ask. It’s easy not to ask questions. Take the question, put it behind a door. Close the door. Leave nothing open. She is aware of the hypocrisy of always encouraging her students to ask questions when she denies herself the same freedom, but there’s a whole door in her head just for the cognitive dissonance of Do what I say, not what I do.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lola blurts out, and suddenly this interrogation makes sense. Lola’s father finds excuses to linger at every drop-off and pickup.

“Only when I want to,” Val answers. “Sometimes I have a girlfriend.” Though boyfriend and girlfriend are generous terms for the relationships she allows herself to have.

Still, her answer has the desired effect of rapidly changing the subject as all the girls’ eyes go wide. Val can see the follow-up questions bubbling, but they don’t have time. She has to get to Poppy before—

“Damn it,” Val whispers under her breath. Poppy’s mother has already pulled up in a Mercedes SUV that has about as much functionality as the designer boots she sent Poppy in for the first day. And Poppy’s still in the goat pen instead of the stables.

Val claps her hands. “Okay! Last one out of their barn clothes has to muck out Stormy’s stall tomorrow!”

The girls shriek and dart away to remove the coveralls and boots Val gives them to protect the too-cute clothes their parents always have them wear. Val cuts across the dusty path to intercept Poppy’s mom before Poppy hears what’s about to happen.

“Hi,” Val says. She can’t recall the woman’s name. She never can with other adults. It’s hard to care.

The sunglasses come up, pushed onto carefully styled hair. “What’s Poppy doing in the goat pen?”

“She’s working with our baby goats, Luke and Leia, training them to—”

“I’m paying you for riding lessons!”

Parents always trot that out as leverage, but technically she isn’t paying Val at all. Val doesn’t get paid. She smiles politely. “You’re paying for a week of day camp at Gloria’s Ranch, which includes experiences with a variety of animals. And can include riding lessons, if the girls want that, which Poppy does not.”

“It’s not up to her! I want her to learn how to ride!”

Val resists the urge to smack the sunglasses off the woman’s head. “Poppy is spending a week outside building confidence with friends and animals. Do you want me to force her into a saddle and watch her have a panic attack? Because that’s not safe for Poppy or the horse.”

“But I’m paying—”

“No.” Val cuts her off. “Look at your daughter. Right now.”

Poppy’s perched on top of a bale of hay, expression intense with concentration as she balances next to a tiny baby goat. She gives a command, then jumps off and turns around expectantly. The goat follows. Poppy whoops in delighted triumph.

“But—” the mom says, her anger deflated in the face of Poppy’s elation.

“She’s afraid of horses. It’s a perfectly rational fear. Horses are terrifying creatures. Barrel chests and pin legs and have you seen their teeth?”

The woman raises a perfect eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re scared of them.”

“Oh, absolutely I am. I ignore it because I have to. But there’s no reason for Poppy to overcome this particular fear. No one needs to ride horses. She’s a remarkable little girl, and when she grows into a remarkable adult, she’ll remember how her mother listened to her and helped her find other things she was good at.”

The woman sighs out the last of her anger. “She does look happy.”

“And filthy.” Val wrinkles her nose. She’s not even pleased that she convinced this woman she was right. It was always going to go this way. When Val sets her mind to something, it happens.

The woman laughs, fully won over. “And filthy.”

“Poppy! Into the barn!” Val points and Poppy hops across the pen like a little goat herself.

“I really wanted to buy her cute riding clothes,” her mother says, wistful.

Sometimes Val forgets that adults are just children with both more and less autonomy. She smiles slyly and nudges the woman with her shoulder. “You know, we have riding classes for adults, too, and you’d look fabulous in a new riding outfit.”

Val’s rewarded with another laugh and a thoughtful glance toward the stables. The woman’s already picking out which horse is prettiest, probably imagining owning one herself. Good for business if she stables it here.

What would we do without you, Val? Gloria asks in her mind, and Val thinks back what she always does: You’ll never have to find out.

It tastes bitter today.\"},{\"id\":\"90888134T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"One

The thing is, the doors were open that morning.

Val knows—she knows, she knows—that waking up to find both doors of their sagging cabin opened wide to the world is probably only because Dad wasn’t sleeping well, and that she should tie a bell to his foot before bed tonight. Just in case.

But.

An open door is an invitation, she whispers to herself. And she keeps the doors to their cabin firmly closed all the time. She’ll have one of the ranch hands rig up some sort of lock system, up high, where Dad won’t be able to reach it.

That’ll fix it. She can stop worrying.

She doesn’t, though. She worries through the morning riding lessons, worries through lunch with the camp full of awkwardly pubescing little delights, worries through the early-afternoon group activities, more riding, cleanup. All her favorite things—especially the cleanup, knowing parents are paying a small fortune so their daughters can spend the week doing the chores Val hates most—are eaten up by the worry.

By late afternoon she’s mostly shaken it off, though. Sometimes an open door is just an open door. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

One of the girls, Lola, freckled and sunburned and wonderful, raises her hand. “Miss Val?”

“You know where the bathroom is,” Val answers. “You don’t have to ask when you need to go.” It’s almost time for pickup, which means she needs to get Poppy from the goat pen. The other five dusty and happy and tired campers are here with Val, finishing up in the stables.

“No!” Lola giggles shyly. “It’s not that. Do you have any kids?”

An image flashes in Val’s mind. A girl, even younger than these, her brown hair forever fighting to escape messy pigtails, with eyes so blue they break her heart. Val smiles. “Not yet, but I know there’s one in my future.”

“How?” another camper, Hannah, asks, wrinkling her nose beneath smudged glasses. Val resists the impulse to clean them for her. Independence is part of what her camps promise, even if it means dirty glasses. Val’s been running the summer programs for Gloria’s Ranch since she was twenty, and they’re the absolute highlight of her whole year.

Val shrugs. “I’ve always known.”

“But aren’t you getting too old?”

Val lifts an eyebrow. Lola scowls and elbows Hannah, but Val shakes her head. “No, it’s okay to ask questions. Questions are how we get to know the world. And the answer is, I’m not too old. Not yet.”

Her heart ticks like a clock, but she still has time. Val’s belief in her blue-eyed girl is as solid as her belief in gravity. The when and the how are questions she doesn’t let herself ask. It’s easy not to ask questions. Take the question, put it behind a door. Close the door. Leave nothing open. She is aware of the hypocrisy of always encouraging her students to ask questions when she denies herself the same freedom, but there’s a whole door in her head just for the cognitive dissonance of Do what I say, not what I do.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lola blurts out, and suddenly this interrogation makes sense. Lola’s father finds excuses to linger at every drop-off and pickup.

“Only when I want to,” Val answers. “Sometimes I have a girlfriend.” Though boyfriend and girlfriend are generous terms for the relationships she allows herself to have.

Still, her answer has the desired effect of rapidly changing the subject as all the girls’ eyes go wide. Val can see the follow-up questions bubbling, but they don’t have time. She has to get to Poppy before—

“Damn it,” Val whispers under her breath. Poppy’s mother has already pulled up in a Mercedes SUV that has about as much functionality as the designer boots she sent Poppy in for the first day. And Poppy’s still in the goat pen instead of the stables.

Val claps her hands. “Okay! Last one out of their barn clothes has to muck out Stormy’s stall tomorrow!”

The girls shriek and dart away to remove the coveralls and boots Val gives them to protect the too-cute clothes their parents always have them wear. Val cuts across the dusty path to intercept Poppy’s mom before Poppy hears what’s about to happen.

“Hi,” Val says. She can’t recall the woman’s name. She never can with other adults. It’s hard to care.

The sunglasses come up, pushed onto carefully styled hair. “What’s Poppy doing in the goat pen?”

“She’s working with our baby goats, Luke and Leia, training them to—”

“I’m paying you for riding lessons!”

Parents always trot that out as leverage, but technically she isn’t paying Val at all. Val doesn’t get paid. She smiles politely. “You’re paying for a week of day camp at Gloria’s Ranch, which includes experiences with a variety of animals. And can include riding lessons, if the girls want that, which Poppy does not.”

“It’s not up to her! I want her to learn how to ride!”

Val resists the urge to smack the sunglasses off the woman’s head. “Poppy is spending a week outside building confidence with friends and animals. Do you want me to force her into a saddle and watch her have a panic attack? Because that’s not safe for Poppy or the horse.”

“But I’m paying—”

“No.” Val cuts her off. “Look at your daughter. Right now.”

Poppy’s perched on top of a bale of hay, expression intense with concentration as she balances next to a tiny baby goat. She gives a command, then jumps off and turns around expectantly. The goat follows. Poppy whoops in delighted triumph.

“But—” the mom says, her anger deflated in the face of Poppy’s elation.

“She’s afraid of horses. It’s a perfectly rational fear. Horses are terrifying creatures. Barrel chests and pin legs and have you seen their teeth?”

The woman raises a perfect eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re scared of them.”

“Oh, absolutely I am. I ignore it because I have to. But there’s no reason for Poppy to overcome this particular fear. No one needs to ride horses. She’s a remarkable little girl, and when she grows into a remarkable adult, she’ll remember how her mother listened to her and helped her find other things she was good at.”

The woman sighs out the last of her anger. “She does look happy.”

“And filthy.” Val wrinkles her nose. She’s not even pleased that she convinced this woman she was right. It was always going to go this way. When Val sets her mind to something, it happens.

The woman laughs, fully won over. “And filthy.”

“Poppy! Into the barn!” Val points and Poppy hops across the pen like a little goat herself.

“I really wanted to buy her cute riding clothes,” her mother says, wistful.

Sometimes Val forgets that adults are just children with both more and less autonomy. She smiles slyly and nudges the woman with her shoulder. “You know, we have riding classes for adults, too, and you’d look fabulous in a new riding outfit.”

Val’s rewarded with another laugh and a thoughtful glance toward the stables. The woman’s already picking out which horse is prettiest, probably imagining owning one herself. Good for business if she stables it here.

What would we do without you, Val? Gloria asks in her mind, and Val thinks back what she always does: You’ll never have to find out.

It tastes bitter today.\"},{\"id\":\"90410545T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"One

The thing is, the doors were open that morning.

Val knows—she knows, she knows—that waking up to find both doors of their sagging cabin opened wide to the world is probably only because Dad wasn’t sleeping well, and that she should tie a bell to his foot before bed tonight. Just in case.

But.

An open door is an invitation, she whispers to herself. And she keeps the doors to their cabin firmly closed all the time. She’ll have one of the ranch hands rig up some sort of lock system, up high, where Dad won’t be able to reach it.

That’ll fix it. She can stop worrying.

She doesn’t, though. She worries through the morning riding lessons, worries through lunch with the camp full of awkwardly pubescing little delights, worries through the early-afternoon group activities, more riding, cleanup. All her favorite things—especially the cleanup, knowing parents are paying a small fortune so their daughters can spend the week doing the chores Val hates most—are eaten up by the worry.

By late afternoon she’s mostly shaken it off, though. Sometimes an open door is just an open door. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

One of the girls, Lola, freckled and sunburned and wonderful, raises her hand. “Miss Val?”

“You know where the bathroom is,” Val answers. “You don’t have to ask when you need to go.” It’s almost time for pickup, which means she needs to get Poppy from the goat pen. The other five dusty and happy and tired campers are here with Val, finishing up in the stables.

“No!” Lola giggles shyly. “It’s not that. Do you have any kids?”

An image flashes in Val’s mind. A girl, even younger than these, her brown hair forever fighting to escape messy pigtails, with eyes so blue they break her heart. Val smiles. “Not yet, but I know there’s one in my future.”

“How?” another camper, Hannah, asks, wrinkling her nose beneath smudged glasses. Val resists the impulse to clean them for her. Independence is part of what her camps promise, even if it means dirty glasses. Val’s been running the summer programs for Gloria’s Ranch since she was twenty, and they’re the absolute highlight of her whole year.

Val shrugs. “I’ve always known.”

“But aren’t you getting too old?”

Val lifts an eyebrow. Lola scowls and elbows Hannah, but Val shakes her head. “No, it’s okay to ask questions. Questions are how we get to know the world. And the answer is, I’m not too old. Not yet.”

Her heart ticks like a clock, but she still has time. Val’s belief in her blue-eyed girl is as solid as her belief in gravity. The when and the how are questions she doesn’t let herself ask. It’s easy not to ask questions. Take the question, put it behind a door. Close the door. Leave nothing open. She is aware of the hypocrisy of always encouraging her students to ask questions when she denies herself the same freedom, but there’s a whole door in her head just for the cognitive dissonance of Do what I say, not what I do.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Lola blurts out, and suddenly this interrogation makes sense. Lola’s father finds excuses to linger at every drop-off and pickup.

“Only when I want to,” Val answers. “Sometimes I have a girlfriend.” Though boyfriend and girlfriend are generous terms for the relationships she allows herself to have.

Still, her answer has the desired effect of rapidly changing the subject as all the girls’ eyes go wide. Val can see the follow-up questions bubbling, but they don’t have time. She has to get to Poppy before—

“Damn it,” Val whispers under her breath. Poppy’s mother has already pulled up in a Mercedes SUV that has about as much functionality as the designer boots she sent Poppy in for the first day. And Poppy’s still in the goat pen instead of the stables.

Val claps her hands. “Okay! Last one out of their barn clothes has to muck out Stormy’s stall tomorrow!”

The girls shriek and dart away to remove the coveralls and boots Val gives them to protect the too-cute clothes their parents always have them wear. Val cuts across the dusty path to intercept Poppy’s mom before Poppy hears what’s about to happen.

“Hi,” Val says. She can’t recall the woman’s name. She never can with other adults. It’s hard to care.

The sunglasses come up, pushed onto carefully styled hair. “What’s Poppy doing in the goat pen?”

“She’s working with our baby goats, Luke and Leia, training them to—”

“I’m paying you for riding lessons!”

Parents always trot that out as leverage, but technically she isn’t paying Val at all. Val doesn’t get paid. She smiles politely. “You’re paying for a week of day camp at Gloria’s Ranch, which includes experiences with a variety of animals. And can include riding lessons, if the girls want that, which Poppy does not.”

“It’s not up to her! I want her to learn how to ride!”

Val resists the urge to smack the sunglasses off the woman’s head. “Poppy is spending a week outside building confidence with friends and animals. Do you want me to force her into a saddle and watch her have a panic attack? Because that’s not safe for Poppy or the horse.”

“But I’m paying—”

“No.” Val cuts her off. “Look at your daughter. Right now.”

Poppy’s perched on top of a bale of hay, expression intense with concentration as she balances next to a tiny baby goat. She gives a command, then jumps off and turns around expectantly. The goat follows. Poppy whoops in delighted triumph.

“But—” the mom says, her anger deflated in the face of Poppy’s elation.

“She’s afraid of horses. It’s a perfectly rational fear. Horses are terrifying creatures. Barrel chests and pin legs and have you seen their teeth?”

The woman raises a perfect eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re scared of them.”

“Oh, absolutely I am. I ignore it because I have to. But there’s no reason for Poppy to overcome this particular fear. No one needs to ride horses. She’s a remarkable little girl, and when she grows into a remarkable adult, she’ll remember how her mother listened to her and helped her find other things she was good at.”

The woman sighs out the last of her anger. “She does look happy.”

“And filthy.” Val wrinkles her nose. She’s not even pleased that she convinced this woman she was right. It was always going to go this way. When Val sets her mind to something, it happens.

The woman laughs, fully won over. “And filthy.”

“Poppy! Into the barn!” Val points and Poppy hops across the pen like a little goat herself.

“I really wanted to buy her cute riding clothes,” her mother says, wistful.

Sometimes Val forgets that adults are just children with both more and less autonomy. She smiles slyly and nudges the woman with her shoulder. “You know, we have riding classes for adults, too, and you’d look fabulous in a new riding outfit.”

Val’s rewarded with another laugh and a thoughtful glance toward the stables. The woman’s already picking out which horse is prettiest, probably imagining owning one herself. Good for business if she stables it here.

What would we do without you, Val? Gloria asks in her mind, and Val thinks back what she always does: You’ll never have to find out.

It tastes bitter today.\"},{\"id\":\"121794021T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"“Mister Magic is a propulsive, exciting, often genuinely scary, endlessly compelling mystery. Imagine a trip through Twin Peaks by way of Stranger Things and Stephen King’s It.”—Terry Miles, author of Rabbits

“Kiersten White’s horror epic of cursed childhood media and stolen adolescence cuts to the poisoned quick of our nostalgia-obsessed modern age, and is expertly adapted for the graphic medium by Scott Peterson and the incredible team of Veronica and Andy Fish.”—James Tynion IV

“Mister Magic walks the twilit line between wonder and terror where all the best childhood games are played.”—Melissa Albert, New York Times bestselling author of The Hazel Wood

“Clever, compelling, and utterly chilling, Mister Magic: The Graphic Novelis equal parts childhood nostalgia and creeping nightmare!”—Cavan Scott, New York Times bestselling author

“It meets The Stepford Wives in this wildly compelling story that explores whether it’s possible to recapture the magic of childhood friendship and what happens when you discover the darkness hiding underneath your memories.”—Mallory O’Meara, Los Angeles Times bestselling author of The Lady from the Black Lagoon

“I found myself thoroughly drawn in by Mister Magic, a unique thriller with a compelling cast of characters whose past hides long-buried secrets.”—Karen Cleveland, New York Times bestselling author of Need to Know

“Few books I’ve read capture the wonder and terror of childhood as brilliantly as Mister Magic. Both creepy and profoundly nostalgic, it’s guaranteed to unsettle anyone who grew up with Barney & Friends, Sesame Street, or other children’s shows—or anyone who’s ever been a child. This book gave me nightmares in the best possible way.”—Ana Reyes, New York Times bestselling author of The House in the Pines

“Kiersten White gave me a serious case of the heebie-jeebies that I couldn’t shake, even long after I’d put this book down! The sense of dread starts off as a whisper and builds into a full-blown scream as pieces of the mystery surrounding Mister Magic fall into place in this terrifying novel.”—Amanda Jayatissa, author of You’re Invited

“The allure and untrustworthiness of memory and childhood experiences are deftly explored in this compelling and eerie slow burn. . . . This deeply personal and mesmerizing work from White is sure to please, especially readers with ’90s nostalgia.”—Library Journal

“In this frightening, nostalgic, and original plot, White explores themes of racism, homophobia, and sexism. Savvy readers will devour the subtext and ponder philosophical questions about reality.”—Booklist, starred review

“Both eerie and surprisingly heartwarming, White’s examination of the perils of nostalgia is sure to win fans.”—Publishers Weekly\"},{\"id\":\"91486982T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Memory is a fascinating concept, and that fascination turns to terror thanks to Kiersten White’s Mister Magic, which tells the chilling story of a children’s TV program gone wrong. And underneath that terror is a bit of warmth not often found in the genre.

\"},{\"id\":\"89526083T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Memory is a funny concept. Not in the “ha ha” way but in a truly frightening manner. (Nervous laughter). One that could only be captured by Kiersten White and elaborated by the elusive “Mr. Magic”.

\"},{\"id\":\"121794022T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Kiersten White is the New York Times bestselling, Bram Stoker Award–winning, and critically acclaimed author of many books, including The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, the And I Darken trilogy, the Slayer series, the Camelot Rising trilogy, and her adult debut, Hide. White lives with her family in San Diego, where they obsessively care for their deeply ambivalent tortoise, Kimberly.

\"},{\"id\":\"94998072T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Kiersten White is the New York Times bestselling, Bram Stoker Award–winning, and critically acclaimed author of many books, including The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, the And I Darken trilogy, the Slayer series, the Camelot Rising trilogy, and her adult debut, Hide. White lives with her family in San Diego, where they obsessively care for their deeply ambivalent tortoise, Kimberly.\"},{\"id\":\"90888082T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Kiersten White is the New York Times bestselling, Bram Stoker Award–winning, and critically acclaimed author of many books, including The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, the And I Darken trilogy, the Slayer series, the Camelot Rising trilogy, and her adult debut, Hide. White lives with her family in San Diego, where they obsessively care for their deeply ambivalent tortoise, Kimberly.\"},{\"id\":\"102580277T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Kiersten White is the New York Times bestselling, Bram Stoker Award-winning, and critically acclaimed author of many books, including The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, the And I Darken trilogy, the Slayer series, the Camelot Rising trilogy, and her adult debut, Hide. White lives with her family in San Diego, where they obsessively care for their deeply ambivalent tortoise, Kimberly.\"},{\"id\":\"87052624T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Kiersten White is the New York Times bestselling, Bram Stoker Award–winning, and critically acclaimed author of many books, including The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, the And I Darken trilogy, the Slayer series, the Camelot Rising trilogy, and her adult debut, Hide. White lives with her family in San Diego, where they obsessively care for their deeply ambivalent tortoise, Kimberly.\"}]",{"_41":2558,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2559},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859427012849","Mister-Magic/Kiersten-White",{"_41":2561,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2562},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859424686321","1142639624",{"_41":2564,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859425538289",{"_41":2566,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2521},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859423736049",{"_41":2568,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40859425964273",{"_41":2570,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2571},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60334471217393","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.0\"}",{"_41":2573,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2574},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60334471184625","37",{"_26":74,"_75":10,"_54":2576},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/the-best-analog-horror-stories-to-read-right-now","The Best Analog Horror Stories",{"_33":2579,"_26":1045,"_1035":2580,"_71":2885},"0c3208f87754",{"_1038":2581,"_1047":214,"_1425":1426,"_1427":1428,"_96":-5,"_54":2883},[2582,2650,2710,2765,2825],{"_1901":1902,"_41":2583,"_71":2584,"_1905":2585,"_825":2586,"_1908":2587,"_1910":2588,"_1912":2589,"_1919":2594,"_1927":59,"_1928":2597,"_1934":2600,"_1955":2609,"_1956":2611,"_1958":2612,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2613},"gid://shopify/Product/8869759156465","Little Blue Truck's Halloween: A Halloween Book for Kids","Board Book","9780544772533","Celebrate Halloween with the #1 New York Times bestselling Little Blue Truck and friends!Beep! Beep! It's Halloween! Little Blue Truck is picking up his animal friends for a costume party.Lift the flaps in this large, sturdy board book to find out who's dressed up in each costume! Will Blue wear a costume too?","

Celebrate Halloween with the #1 New York Times bestselling Little Blue Truck and friends!

Beep! Beep! It's Halloween! Little Blue Truck is picking up his animal friends for a costume party.

Lift the flaps in this large, sturdy board book to find out who's dressed up in each costume! Will Blue wear a costume too?

",{"_41":2590,"_54":2591,"_56":2592,"_50":2593,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47545573900529","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780544772533_p0.jpg?v=1765091240",1596,1430,{"_1921":2595},{"_1923":2596,"_1925":1926},"13.99",{"_1921":2598,"_1932":2599},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2601},[2602],{"_41":2603,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2604,"_1943":2605,"_1945":2606,"_1947":2607,"_1953":2586,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46270045290737",{"_41":2590,"_54":2591,"_1918":-5,"_56":2592,"_50":2593},{"_1923":2596,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2584,"_825":2586},[2608],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2610},"[\"Kids Halloween Tales (p9151)\",\"Frankenkitty Only $9.99 With Purchase of Any Kids' Book (p1237)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Literary Plush & Books (p7238)\",\"Halloween Books & Spooky Stories Collection (p5292)\",\"B|Bestseller|#007C6C (p7858)\",\"BADGE - Best Seller (p7883)\"]",{"_1951":2586},{"_1951":2585},[2614,2617,2620,2623,2625,-5,2627,2629,2632,2635,2638,-5,2640,2642,-5,2644,2646,2648],{"_41":2615,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2616},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779439767793","[{\"contributorId\":163923,\"fullName\":\"Alice Schertle\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":1630848,\"fullName\":\"Jill McElmurry\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":2618,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":2619},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779439997169","Little Blue Truck Series",{"_41":2621,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1976,"_1951":2622},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73518181187825","7",{"_41":2624,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2585},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440226545",{"_41":2626,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2585},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779439505649",{"_41":2628,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":904},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440324849",{"_41":2630,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2631},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440947441","[{\"id\":\"118780601T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\\\"The children demand anthropomorphic vehicles. And among them, none is as adorable as the vintage blue pick-up in the Little Blue Truck series.... [T]he only thing that would make these books cuter is if the truck only ever spoke in 'beeps'-and he does!\\\" -The A.V. Club \\\"McElmurry's richly rendered scenes and the animals' elegant costumes conjure up a sense of nostalgia that befits Little Blue Truck's own vintage looks.\\\" -Publishers Weekly \\\"Lovely curvy shapes and autumn colors fade to dusky blues as night falls, and children are sure to notice the traditional elements of a Halloween party: apple bobbing, lit jack-o'-lanterns, and punch and treats. Beloved Little Blue takes a bit of the mystery-and fear-out of Halloween costumes.\\\" -Kirkus

\"},{\"id\":\"118780603T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Alice Schertle is a poet and author of many well-loved books for children, including the beloved #1 New York Times bestselling Little Blue Truck series, Very Hairy Bear, Button Up!, and All You Need for a Snowman. She lives in Plainfield, Massachusetts.

Jill McElmurry was the illustrator of many picture books, including her own Mad About Plaid, When Otis Courted Mama by Kathi Appelt and the best-selling Little Blue Truck series, written by Alice Schertle. She happily divided her time between the wide landscape of New Mexico and a green island in Minnesota. Jill passed away in August 2017.

\"},{\"id\":\"85819342T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Alice Schertle is a poet and author of many well—loved books for children, including the beloved #1 New York Times bestselling Little Blue Truck series, Very Hairy Bear, Button Up!, and All You Need for a Snowman. She lives in Plainfield, Massachusetts.

Jill McElmurry was the illustrator of many picture books, including her own Mad About Plaid, When Otis Courted Mama by Kathi Appelt and the best—selling Little Blue Truck series, written by Alice Schertle. She happily divided her time between the wide landscape of New Mexico and a green island in Minnesota. Jill passed away in August 2017.\"},{\"id\":\"45344620T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Alice Schertle is a poet and author of many well-loved books for children, including the beloved, #1 New York Times best-selling Little Blue Truck series,Very Hairy Bear, Button Up!, and All You Need for a Snowman. She lives in Plainfield, Massachusetts.

Jill McElmurry was the illustrator of many picture books, including her own Mad About Plaid, When Otis Courted Mama by Kathi Appelt and the best-selling Little Blue Truck series, written by Alice Schertle. She happily divided her time between the wide landscape of New Mexico and a green island in Minnesota. Jill passed away in August 2017.\"},{\"id\":\"110854361T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Alice Schertle is a poet and the author of the best-selling Little Blue Truck books and many other books for young readers. She lives in Plainfield, Massachusetts.

Jill McElmurry is the illustrator of the best-selling Little Blue Truck books, as well as many acclaimed picture books, some of which she also wrote. She divides her time between New Mexico and Minnesota.

\"}]",{"_41":2633,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2634},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440750833","Little-Blue-Trucks-Halloween/Alice-Schertle",{"_41":2636,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2637},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779439309041","1142100257",{"_41":2639,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440161009",{"_41":2641,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2610},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779441012977",{"_41":2643,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2586},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779436949745",{"_41":2645,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40779440423153",{"_41":2647,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2195},"gid://shopify/Metafield/79078907937009",{"_41":2649,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":891},"gid://shopify/Metafield/79078907904241",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2651,"_71":2652,"_1905":2392,"_825":2653,"_1908":2654,"_1910":2655,"_1912":2656,"_1919":2661,"_1927":59,"_1928":2663,"_1934":2666,"_1955":2675,"_1956":2677,"_1958":2678,"_1960":2679,"_1961":2680},"gid://shopify/Product/9520540516593","Frankenkitty (B&N Exclusive Edition)","9781680108354","This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition features special effects on the jacket plus a removable, limited-edition art print.This lively, laugh-out-loud gothic tale in picture book form is perfect for kids ages 3-7 who love their monsters cute and their bedtime stories dramatic. Features a freakishly fun art style and a neon green Pantone on the cover!Meet Frankenkitty—a stitched-together kitten with a haunted castle for a home and a reputation that seems to terrify everyone...even his own inventor! Only Olive, the inventor's brave young daughter, sees the sweet side of this misunderstood kitty. But when terrible things start to happen at the castle—like mice invading the kitchen, frogs appearing in the bathtub, and Brussels sprouts showing up on the dinner menu—poor Frankenkitty gets the blame and is banished from the castle into the snow. Will Olive be able to rescue the poor kitten before it's too late? Features a freakishly fun art style and a neon green Pantone on the cover!Full of playful twists on classic horror tropes, this entertaining story features hilariously dramatic narration, perfect for reading aloud and getting readers ready for the spooky season.","

This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition features special effects on the jacket plus a removable, limited-edition art print.

This lively, laugh-out-loud gothic tale in picture book form is perfect for kids ages 3-7 who love their monsters cute and their bedtime stories dramatic. Features a freakishly fun art style and a neon green Pantone on the cover!

Meet Frankenkitty—a stitched-together kitten with a haunted castle for a home and a reputation that seems to terrify everyone...even his own inventor! Only Olive, the inventor's brave young daughter, sees the sweet side of this misunderstood kitty. But when terrible things start to happen at the castle—like mice invading the kitchen, frogs appearing in the bathtub, and Brussels sprouts showing up on the dinner menu—poor Frankenkitty gets the blame and is banished from the castle into the snow. Will Olive be able to rescue the poor kitten before it's too late? Features a freakishly fun art style and a neon green Pantone on the cover!

Full of playful twists on classic horror tropes, this entertaining story features hilariously dramatic narration, perfect for reading aloud and getting readers ready for the spooky season.

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He's silly, sweet and a bit of a monster. Meet Frankenkitty! Little ones will fall in love with the misunderstood, stitched-together kitten in this laugh-out-loud picture book, bursting with vibrant illustrations.

\"},{\"id\":\"125002273T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Maudie Powell-Tuck has been writing, editing, and dreaming about picture books for more than 12 years. She has worked in a children’s bookstore and as an editor for a children’s publisher, so she can enthuse about kids’ books ‘til the cows come home. When not writing or editing, Maudie can be found wandering around charity shops with her kids, reading, and watching embarrassingly trashy reality TV. She is forever losing her hearing aids and has dropped her phone 1,345,566 times. Miraculously it still works.

Born in a mini car in a parking lot in South Wales, Mini Grey worked as a theater designer, then a primary school teacher, before beginning to make children's picture books, some of which have won awards. Mini lives in Oxford, UK, with her partner, Tony, and son, Herbie. She likes running along the river and down hallways, and playing with her food.

\"},{\"id\":\"125002274T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Maudie Powell-Tuck has been writing, editing, and dreaming about picture books for more than 12 years. She has worked in a children’s bookstore and as an editor for a children’s publisher, so she can enthuse about kids’ books ‘til the cows come home. When not writing or editing, Maudie can be found wandering around charity shops with her kids, reading, and watching embarrassingly trashy reality TV. She is forever losing her hearing aids and has dropped her phone 1,345,566 times. Miraculously it still works.

Born in a mini car in a parking lot in South Wales, Mini Grey worked as a theater designer, then a primary school teacher, before beginning to make children's picture books, some of which have won awards. Mini lives in Oxford, UK, with her partner, Tony, and son, Herbie. She likes running along the river and down hallways, and playing with her food.\"}]",{"_41":2694,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2695},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896910209265","Frankenkitty/Maudie-Powell-Tuck",{"_41":2697,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2698},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896909488369","1148477253",{"_41":2700,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896909881585",{"_41":2702,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2676},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896910471409",{"_41":2704,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896908964081",{"_41":2706,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77896909979889",{"_41":2708,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2709},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87300834427121","0",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2711,"_71":2712,"_1905":2328,"_825":2713,"_1908":2714,"_1910":2715,"_1912":2716,"_1919":2719,"_1927":59,"_1928":2722,"_1934":2725,"_1955":2734,"_1956":2736,"_1958":2737,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2738},"gid://shopify/Product/9337905414385","Happy Spooky Halloween!","9780063306653","A not-so-scary, super-sweet Halloween story from #1 New York Times bestselling author, NBA superstar and Halloween fanatic, LeBron James (I Promise, I Am More Than)!\"Happy Hallow-EEK!\"That's what Zara and her friends scream as they walk into the Halloween Party the big kids are throwing this year at Hickory Elementary. Everything is spooky... a little too spooky! The vibes are so scary that Zara and the younger kids worry they won't be able to have fun. Will the students-big and small-learn to work together to throw the perfect party?Find out in this heartwarming, humorous and hauntingly fun tale that is sure to make it the happiest, spookiest Halloween ever for young readers and Halloween fans everywhere.","

A not-so-scary, super-sweet Halloween story from #1 New York Times bestselling author, NBA superstar and Halloween fanatic, LeBron James (I Promise, I Am More Than)!

\"Happy Hallow-EEK!\"
That's what Zara and her friends scream as they walk into the Halloween Party the big kids are throwing this year at Hickory Elementary. Everything is spooky... a little too spooky! The vibes are so scary that Zara and the younger kids worry they won't be able to have fun. Will the students-big and small-learn to work together to throw the perfect party?
Find out in this heartwarming, humorous and hauntingly fun tale that is sure to make it the happiest, spookiest Halloween ever for young readers and Halloween fans everywhere.

",{"_41":2717,"_54":2718,"_56":2592,"_50":2592,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47635642155249","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063306653_p0.jpg?v=1772054952",{"_1921":2720},{"_1923":2721,"_1925":1926},"12.99",{"_1921":2723,"_1932":2724},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2726},[2727],{"_41":2728,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2729,"_1943":2730,"_1945":2731,"_1947":2732,"_1953":2713,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47037735108849",{"_41":2717,"_54":2718,"_1918":-5,"_56":2592,"_50":2592},{"_1923":2721,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2712,"_825":2713},[2733],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2735},"[\"Kids Halloween Tales (p9151)\",\"Frankenkitty Only $9.99 With Purchase of Any Kids' Book (p1237)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Halloween Books & Spooky Stories Collection (p5292)\"]",{"_1951":2713},{"_1951":2328},[2739,-5,-5,2742,2744,-5,2746,2748,2751,2754,2757,-5,2759,2761,-5,2763,-5,-5],{"_41":2740,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2741},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308176625","[{\"contributorId\":10207087,\"fullName\":\"LeBron James\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":20331843,\"fullName\":\"Ariel Landy\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":2743,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308307697",{"_41":2745,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308045553",{"_41":2747,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308340465",{"_41":2749,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2750},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73347937796337","[{\"id\":\"127216754T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

[W]ill have readers making their own party plans. It's a welcome invitation to enjoy both Halloween and 'Hallo-EEK.' - Publishers Weekly

\"},{\"id\":\"131343717T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

[W]ill have readers making their own party plans. It's a welcome invitation to enjoy both Halloween and 'Hallo-EEK.' - Publishers Weekly

\"},{\"id\":\"132490249T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

LeBron James’ heartwarming tale of haunting fun follows a group of kids at Hickory Elementary as they prepare for the big Halloween party. Will the students be able to work together to throw the best bash ever?

\"},{\"id\":\"118522799T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

LeBron James is widely considered to be the best basketball player in the world and one of the greatest players of all time. James has won four NBA championships, two Olympic gold medals, and four league MVP titles. James grew up in Akron, Ohio, where he continues to create generational change through his LeBron James Family Foundation that focuses its efforts on helping youth achieve a better future through education. In 2018, his foundation opened the I PROMISE School, designed to help underprivileged students and their entire families succeed in school and beyond.

\"},{\"id\":\"118525917T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"LeBron James is widely considered to be the best basketball player in the world and one of the greatest players of all time. James has won four NBA championships, two Olympic gold medals, and four league MVP titles. James grew up in Akron, Ohio, where he continues to create generational change through his LeBron James Family Foundation that focuses its efforts on helping youth achieve a better future through education. In 2018, his foundation opened the I PROMISE School, designed to help underprivileged students and their entire families succeed in school and beyond.

\"},{\"id\":\"131343721T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2752,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2753},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308733681","Happy-Spooky-Halloween/LeBron-James",{"_41":2755,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2756},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865307980017","1148630844",{"_41":2758,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308274929",{"_41":2760,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2735},"gid://shopify/Metafield/80461520929009",{"_41":2762,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2713},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865306636529",{"_41":2764,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/65865308373233",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2766,"_71":2767,"_1905":1906,"_825":2768,"_1908":2769,"_1910":2770,"_1912":2771,"_1919":2776,"_1927":59,"_1928":2779,"_1934":2782,"_1955":2791,"_1956":2793,"_1958":2794,"_1960":-5,"_1961":2795},"gid://shopify/Product/8850117558513","It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (Peanuts Friends Series)","9781481435857","Spooky tricks and hilarious treats abound in this retelling of the beloved Halloween special that comes with holographic foil and embossing on the cover!Celebrate Halloween with Charlie Brown and the rest of the Peanuts gang! It's Halloween night, which means costumes, trick-or-treating, bobbing for apples...and waiting for the Great Pumpkin. Linus is certain that the Great Pumpkin will rise out of the pumpkin patch to bring toys to all the children of the world. Could this be the year that it finally happens? Find out in this stunning storybook with an embossed cover with holographic foil! (C) 2015 Peanuts Worldwide LLC","Spooky tricks and hilarious treats abound in this retelling of the beloved Halloween special that comes with holographic foil and embossing on the cover!

Celebrate Halloween with Charlie Brown and the rest of the Peanuts gang!

It's Halloween night, which means costumes, trick-or-treating, bobbing for apples...and waiting for the Great Pumpkin. Linus is certain that the Great Pumpkin will rise out of the pumpkin patch to bring toys to all the children of the world. Could this be the year that it finally happens?

Find out in this stunning storybook with an embossed cover with holographic foil!

(C) 2015 Peanuts Worldwide LLC",{"_41":2772,"_54":2773,"_56":2774,"_50":2775,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47497756737777","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781481435857_p0.jpg?v=1768974747",1752,1396,{"_1921":2777},{"_1923":2778,"_1925":1926},"7.99",{"_1921":2780,"_1932":2781},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":2783},[2784],{"_41":2785,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":2786,"_1943":2787,"_1945":2788,"_1947":2789,"_1953":2768,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46248342487281",{"_41":2772,"_54":2773,"_1918":-5,"_56":2774,"_50":2775},{"_1923":2778,"_1925":1926},{"_71":2767,"_825":2768},[2790],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2792},"[\"Kids Halloween Tales (p9151)\",\"Peanuts Collection (p10521)\",\"Frankenkitty Only $9.99 With Purchase of Any Kids' Book (p1237)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Halloween Books & Spooky Stories Collection (p5292)\"]",{"_1951":2768},{"_1951":1906},[2796,2799,-5,2802,2804,-5,2806,2808,2811,2814,2817,-5,2819,2821,-5,2823,-5,-5],{"_41":2797,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":2798},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39828409450737","[{\"contributorId\":160030,\"fullName\":\"Charles M. Schulz\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":3883372,\"fullName\":\"Kara McMahon\",\"jobName\":\"Adapted by\",\"sequenceNumber\":2},{\"contributorId\":4354351,\"fullName\":\"Scott Jeralds\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":3}]",{"_41":2800,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1972,"_1951":2801},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39828409745649","Peanuts",{"_41":2803,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39828410138865",{"_41":2805,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39828409090289",{"_41":2807,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39828410237169",{"_41":2809,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":2810},"gid://shopify/Metafield/70174774329585","[{\"id\":\"132490308T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

The Peanuts star in this beloved story of fun and friendship. Linus is waiting for the Great Pumpkin alongside his pals Charlie Brown and Snoopy in this classic Halloween tale.

\"},{\"id\":\"119726092T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Charles M. Schulz is a legend. He was the hand and heart behind fifty years of Peanuts, which featured one of the world's most beloved and recognizable casts of cartoon characters, until his death in 2000.

Kara McMahon is the author of dozens of books for children. She lives in New York City with her husband, Bryan, and their cats, Friday and Cindy Lou Who, both of which were adopted from shelters. Supporting animal shelters is a cause she holds close to her heart, and she hopes that after reading about Friday, more people will make shelters their first stop when looking for a pet.

For over forty years, Scott Jeralds has had a dedicated career in the animation industry. Working for many studios including Hanna-Barbera, Marvel, and Warner Bros., Scott produced and directed several classic cartoon series, earning an Emmy for Freakazoid! and a Humanitas Prize for Static Shock. An accomplished artist and illustrator, Scott has also designed a considerable amount of cartoon-related merchandise, licensing art, and artwork for several comic and children's book publications, including Scooby-Doo and currently Peanuts.

\"},{\"id\":\"67652942T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Charles M. Schulz is a legend. He was the hand and heart behind fifty years of Peanuts, which featured one of the world’s most beloved and recognizable casts of cartoon characters, until his death in 2000.

Kara McMahon is the author of dozens of books for children. She lives in New York City with her husband, Bryan, and their cats, Friday and Cindy Lou Who, both of which were adopted from shelters. Supporting animal shelters is a cause she holds close to her heart, and she hopes that after reading about Friday, more people will make shelters their first stop when looking for a pet.\"},{\"id\":\"45164993T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Charles M. Schulz is a legend. He was the hand and heart behind fifty years of Peanuts, which featured one of the world’s most beloved and recognizable casts of cartoon characters, until his death in 2000.

Kara McMahon is the author of dozens of books for children. She lives in New York City with her husband, Bryan, and their cats, Friday and Cindy Lou Who, both of which were adopted from shelters. Supporting animal shelters is a cause she holds close to her heart, and she hopes that after reading about Friday, more people will make shelters their first stop when looking for a pet.\"},{\"id\":\"45165002T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Charles M. Schulz is a legend. He was the hand and heart behind fifty years of Peanuts, which featured one of the world’s most beloved and recognizable cast of cartoon characters, until his death in 2000.

Kara McMahon is the author of dozens of books for children. She lives in New York City with her husband, Bryan, and their cats, Friday and Cindy Lou Who, both of which were adopted from shelters. Supporting animal shelters is a cause she holds close to her heart, and she hopes that after reading about Friday, more people will make shelters their first stop when looking for a pet.\"},{\"id\":\"132618957T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

For over forty years, Scott Jeralds has had a dedicated career in the animation industry. Working for many studios including Hanna-Barbera, Marvel, and Warner Bros., Scott produced and directed several classic cartoon series, earning an Emmy for Freakazoid! and a Humanitas Prize for Static Shock. An accomplished artist and illustrator, Scott has also designed a considerable amount of cartoon-related merchandise, licensing art, and artwork for several comic and children's book publications, including Scooby-Doo and currently Peanuts.

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From New York Times bestselling author of The Leaf Thief comes the funny Halloween-y companion picture book!

Squirrel and Bird are back, and this time there's a mystery in the vegetable patch! Bird's pumpkins keep disappearing, and this time there's EVIDENCE-footprints, peck-marks, a feather! There is a PUMPKIN THIEF!

With vibrant art and captivating characters, the magic of Halloween's preparations are captured beautifully on each page as readers tag along on Squirrel's forest adventure. Is there truly a pumpkin thief on the loose, or is something else going on? And does it have anything to do with the jack-o'-lanterns appearing on his neighbor's doorsteps?

Bonus material explaining Halloween's traditions. Poised to be a new classic.

Pick up The Pumpkin Thief if you are looking for:

A classic read for ages 4 and up
Books for Halloween, ideal for your classroom, homeschool curriculum, and more!
Seasonal and educational stories about the changing seasons

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Squirrel and Bird are back for more fun. But this time, there’s a mystery in the vegetable patch: Bird's pumpkins keep disappearing! Could there be a Pumpkin Thief at large? Find out in this new autumnal adventure.

\"},{\"id\":\"127244866T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Alice Hemming has worked as a librarian, a website editor, and university outreach manager. She lives in Hertfordshire, England.alicehemming.co.uk

Nicola Slater is a full-time illustrator. She lives in Cheshire, England.

\"},{\"id\":\"115365104T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Alice Hemming has worked as a librarian, a website editor, and university outreach manager. She lives in Hertfordshire, England.alicehemming.co.uk

Nicola Slater is a full-time illustrator. She lives in Cheshire, England.

\"},{\"id\":\"131344846T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Alice Hemming has worked as a librarian, a website editor, and university outreach manager. She lives in Hertfordshire, England.alicehemming.co.uk

Nicola Slater is a full-time illustrator. She lives in Cheshire, England.

\"}]",{"_41":2870,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2871},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60905597141233","The-Pumpkin-Thief/Alice-Hemming",{"_41":2873,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2874},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60905596027121","1148312156",{"_41":2876,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60905596485873",{"_41":2878,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2850},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74682466304241",{"_41":2880,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2828},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60905595470065",{"_41":2882,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60905596682481",{"_26":74,"_75":10,"_54":2884},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/spooky-picture-books-for-halloween","Spooky Picture Books For Halloween",{"_33":2887,"_26":1045,"_1035":2888,"_71":3208},"29a004db3ba0",{"_1038":2889,"_1047":214,"_1425":1426,"_1427":1428,"_96":-5,"_54":3206},[2890,2955,3019,3081,3139],{"_1901":1902,"_41":2891,"_71":2892,"_1905":2392,"_825":2893,"_1908":2894,"_1910":2895,"_1912":2896,"_1919":2900,"_1927":59,"_1928":2902,"_1934":2905,"_1955":2914,"_1956":2916,"_1958":2917,"_1960":2918,"_1961":2919},"gid://shopify/Product/9460832436465","Falling Like Leaves (B&N Exclusive Edition)","9798347121151","This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition includes shimmering foil on the cover and stunning four-color designed edges!A New York Times bestseller!Gilmore Girls meets Jenny Han in this “delightfully autumnal small-town romance” (Kirkus Reviews, starred review) about a city girl stuck in a quaint small town who must confront her future and her old flame while the town prepares for an annual fall festival.Ellis has a plan: spend her senior fall prepping her application for Columbia, get into their journalism program, and set the foundation for a respectable career. So when her parents announce that not only are they separating, but Ellis has to move with her mom from New York City to Bramble Falls, Connecticut, to live with her aunt and cousin, it couldn’t come at a worse time.From past summers spent in Connecticut, Ellis knows Bramble Falls is idyllic and charming. But it also seems to be full of distractions. There’s local barista Cooper Barnett, Ellis’s one-time best friend and first kiss who now wants nothing to do with Ellis. And then there’s the Falling Leaves Festival, a local autumnal celebration run by Ellis’s aunt where people from all over come to see Bramble Falls’s beautiful foliage. The house is stuffed with decorations, and every conversation seems to center around the festival.Dragged to every oh-so-charming event from apple picking to pumpkin carving, Ellis can’t stop bumping into Cooper...or falling for the quaint town and its quirky residents. As her return to Manhattan gets repeatedly delayed, Ellis finds herself caught between two very different places—and the futures they represent.","

This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition includes shimmering foil on the cover and stunning four-color designed edges!

A New York Times bestseller!

Gilmore Girls meets Jenny Han in this “delightfully autumnal small-town romance” (Kirkus Reviews, starred review) about a city girl stuck in a quaint small town who must confront her future and her old flame while the town prepares for an annual fall festival.

Ellis has a plan: spend her senior fall prepping her application for Columbia, get into their journalism program, and set the foundation for a respectable career. So when her parents announce that not only are they separating, but Ellis has to move with her mom from New York City to Bramble Falls, Connecticut, to live with her aunt and cousin, it couldn’t come at a worse time.

From past summers spent in Connecticut, Ellis knows Bramble Falls is idyllic and charming. But it also seems to be full of distractions. There’s local barista Cooper Barnett, Ellis’s one-time best friend and first kiss who now wants nothing to do with Ellis. And then there’s the Falling Leaves Festival, a local autumnal celebration run by Ellis’s aunt where people from all over come to see Bramble Falls’s beautiful foliage. The house is stuffed with decorations, and every conversation seems to center around the festival.

Dragged to every oh-so-charming event from apple picking to pumpkin carving, Ellis can’t stop bumping into Cooper...or falling for the quaint town and its quirky residents. As her return to Manhattan gets repeatedly delayed, Ellis finds herself caught between two very different places—and the futures they represent.

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Caviar is disgusting, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

Still, I roll the eggs around in my mouth as if they’re a fine wine, just like Dad told me to do before he abandoned me in the corner to go talk to one of the many white-haired men at this event. If I weren’t at the Street Media Corporation annual gala, I would spit it out in a heartbeat. But I can’t embarrass Dad by being the Girl Next to the Fake Plant Spitting Expensive Food into Her Napkin. So I let them sit in my mouth, hoping they’ll just dissolve so I don’t have to force them down.

A small band plays in the front of the sparkling room full of expensive dresses and tuxedos. Four couples make use of the hotel ballroom’s dance floor while the rest of the attendees either stand around mingling or sit at the tables adorned in white luxury linens and orchid centerpieces. Tonight’s gala is both a celebration of the company’s profitable past year and a networking event with potential investors. Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is here, dancing and laughing and meeting wealthy new faces.

And I am simply an intern lucky enough to have an important dad.

“Ah, you’ve found the rare delicacy,” Mr. Street says, startling me as he appears at my side. He nods at the caviar spoon in my hand. There’s no way I’m insulting the host of the party—not to mention the CEO and founder of the news conglomerate—so I swallow the melting eggs and shoot him a grin. Or what I hope looks like a grin.

“I have. They’re delicious,” I lie, holding back a gag.

“I hear you should press them against your soft palate to truly experience the buttery flavor and unique texture.” Mr. Street shakes his head. “Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal, but to each their own.”

You’ve got to be kidding.

I could have been standing here exchanging quippy lines about how repulsive these eggs are, and how everyone in the room is surely faking their enjoyment of them, but instead I’m one of the fakers.

I deflate at the missed networking opportunity.

“How has your internship been so far, Ms. Mitchell?” Mr. Street asks, the light from the crystal chandeliers reflecting off his kind brown eyes and balding head.

“It’s been great,” I tell him. “I’m learning so much.”

This is only half true. It’s hard to learn from lower-level journalists and content creators when I’ve grown up the daughter of Brad Mitchell, president of Street Media. I was five years old when Dad first taught me all about journalistic integrity and source anonymity. And although this is my first summer at the company in an official capacity, I’ve shadowed him the last two summers, learning the company ropes, interviewing techniques, how to write a compelling article, and how to recognize and filter bias. Dad says journalism is in my blood and that one day, when he retires, I’ll take his place. All I need is solid experience and the right contacts.

In other words, the Streets.

“That’s fantastic.” Mr. Street takes a sip from his champagne flute. “Have you worked on any assignments you’ve particularly loved?”

The highlight of my whole summer has been tagging along with a reporter covering the Model Icon Fashion Show, but I know better than to say that.

“I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toes into foreign affairs. Covering the European Parliament election and the situation in Ukraine has been really eye-opening.”

“Oh yes, your dad did mention your interest in overseas matters. Did you know I started out as a foreign-affairs reporter?”

I did know that, of course, because a good journalist does her homework.

“Oh wow. I had no idea,” I say, leaning in and feigning interest. “Do you have any good stories from those days? Or any wisdom to impart?”

“Now, Ellis,” I hear from behind me as my dad joins us, placing his hand on my shoulder, “you cannot monopolize Edward’s time tonight. As the host, he has too much schmoozing to do.”

Mr. Street chuckles. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is true, but perhaps we can all get lunch together next week.”

“I would love that,” I say.

“Check my calendar with Anita and get it set up, Brad. I have a feeling your daughter is going to do big things. Her passion simply emanates from her.” Mr. Street beams at me. “Go get yourself more caviar before it’s all gone, Ms. Mitchell.”

He heads toward a group of bigwigs in a heated debate, and Dad turns to me, his Work Smile shifting to his Dad Smile, a difference that is probably imperceptible to anyone else. His eyes linger on my shirt and his smile slips away.

“Is that one of your… creations?” he asks, disappointment dripping from each word.

I tug self-consciously at the fitted halter top that I made out of a thrifted oxford. The addition of one of Mom’s decorative cameo brooches and the floor-length silk Carolina Herrera skirt push it comfortably into black-tie territory, but Dad seems to think otherwise.

“It is…,” I confirm, now regretting not wearing something simpler.

“Well, it seems you made a good impression, regardless.”

I shrug. “I didn’t really say much of anything.”

“Did you bring up foreign affairs like we talked about?”

I nod. “I did.”

Dad winks at me. “Good going, kid. I’ll get lunch set up on Monday.” He points subtly to a curvy blond woman in her mid-thirties wearing a gorgeous gold dress. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Catherine Howe? She’s an executive producer at WorldNet Studios.”

Dad flashes his Work Smile at a group of old men across the room before leaving me standing alone in the corner again.

My phone buzzes in my clutch purse, and even though I shouldn’t, I take it out to check the message.

Foodie Fernie: hurry and finish up at that snooze fest. Party at my place! Jordan’s here ;)

I put my phone back into my purse and sigh. I’d love to ditch this stuffy gala and hang out with friends for a change. I’d love to show off my outfit to people who would actually care how cute I look tonight. But if I’m going to get into Columbia and then get a job at Street Media, I have to put in the work. I don’t have time for parties or boys or, lately, even my best friend.

So, I push my shoulders back, ignore my screaming feet, and head over to introduce myself to Catherine Howe.

Soft sunlight filters through my bedroom window as I lie on my stomach in bed, staring at the daunting Columbia application on my laptop. Outside, the soundtrack of the city plays on repeat—horns honking, a construction crew shouting, sirens blaring, pigeons cooing. Anxiety balloons in the space between my ribs as I enter my contact information—which is further than I got last time I opened the application.

Maybe I’m more nervous about college than I thought.

I click on the next section of the application and immediately bury my face in my plush white comforter. I don’t know why this is so stressful. I want this.

I lift my head back up, and my gaze falls on the other tab I have open: the FIT home page. Last year I took fashion merchandising as one of my electives at school, and my teacher suggested I look into the Fashion Institute of Technology, claiming I have a real aptitude for fashion. Of course, that’s not part of my life plan. Dad and I agree that journalism is a much more practical career path, and I’ve been working toward Columbia my whole life. But it won’t hurt to check out the FIT application—just to see what it entails.

I’m definitely not procrastinating on the Columbia application.

The website loads, and I click on the admissions page, a sense of calm washing over me, probably because it doesn’t represent my entire future or the pressure that comes with it.

I’m reading through the essay prompt—Tell us why you’re interested in fashion, including your experience and inspiration—when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I click on the portfolio requirements as Dad opens the door, his eyes tired and his posture slumped—a completely different person than he was last night at the gala. He trudges over to the bed and sits.

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Are you okay?”

“Your mom—” He stops as his gaze catches on my computer screen, and he narrows his eyes. My stomach plummets. “What are you looking at there? I thought we discussed this.”

“We did.” I close my laptop. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re very talented at designing clothes, Ellis, but we agreed that’s just a way to show Columbia that you have diversified interests.”

“I know. I was just looking. I figured it couldn’t hurt to apply to FIT as a backup school, though. Everyone applies to safety schools.”

“Uh-huh…” Dad nods slowly. Skeptically. “Well, keep your eye on the ball. Don’t let your hobbies distract you from what’s important. You have to be tenacious and focused if you’re going to be successful.”

“I know, Dad. I already started filling out the Columbia application. Don’t worry.”

Even if it was just my name and address.

“Good. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that your mom and I need to talk to you.” He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s waiting for us in the living room.”

I draw my eyebrows together. Something is off. “Okay…”

I leave my computer on my bed and follow Dad to the living room, where Mom is sitting stiffly on the gray leather couch, wringing her hands and staring at the floor, her strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. The dark circles under her eyes match Dad’s. Warning bells go off in my head.

She looks up when I sit on the sofa next to her. “Good morning, honey.”

“Morning…” I glance at Dad, who’s staring at the wall behind me. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Mom begins, “we wanted to talk to you about something. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things between your dad and me have been…”

“Rough?” I supply.

“Exactly. Things have been rough lately. There’s no easy way to say this, but… we’ve decided to take some time apart.”

Panic seeps into my chest. “Are you getting a divorce?”

“No,” Dad says quickly.

Mom shoots him a glare, then settles her eyes on me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I shake my head. “Okay, well, I know you two have been fighting a lot, but can’t you work it out?”

“No, we can’t. Not this time,” Mom says. “But your aunt Naomi has some extra space at her house, and I think some time apart will be best for all of us.”

I look at Dad, hoping he’ll object. Hoping he’ll have some other solution. He always has a solution to everything.

But he only continues to stare at the wall, his jaw twitching.

“Dad? Say something. Do something.”

“There’s nothing to do, Ellis. The decision’s been made,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. Stubble shadows his face, and his hair looks as though he’s run his hand through it a hundred times. He looks defeated.

“It’ll be tough for the family not to be together, but we’ll get through it,” Mom says, offering a weak smile.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

Mom’s eyes widen a bit, some realization dawning on her. “Oh. Well, you’re coming with me to Bramble Falls.”

“What?” I stop breathing. “No, I’m not. School starts this week,” I remind her.

“You’ll go to school in Bramble Falls for a little while,” she says. “We’ll be back by Thanksgiving.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not starting at a new school. Dad, tell her.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, the decision’s been made, Ellis. You heard your mother.”

I stand, now hovering over Mom, who sits with her lips pressed tightly together, avoiding looking at me. “I’m not going to freaking Connecticut. You can’t make me leave my home and my friends and my school during my senior year! What about my commitments? I mean, I’m volunteering at the nursing home, and I’m still doing my internship at Street Media after school three days a week. And I’m finally the editor of the school newspaper this year! I’m sorry, but no. I can’t leave. Being here is imperative to my getting into Columbia. Why can’t I just stay with Dad?”

Mom finally looks at me, her face hard and unreadable. “This isn’t up for debate.” She stands. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so you better go pack.”

“What? I don’t even get to say goodbye to Fern or give my jobs any notice? I’m supposed to have lunch with Mr. Street this week. Please, Mom, don’t do this.”

My heart thuds wildly and unshed tears blur my vision. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Staying isn’t an option,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I’m sorry.”

I turn my back to her. “Dad, please,” I beg, walking over to him, blinking rapidly in my refusal to cry.

Dad pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “It’s only temporary, Ellis. Your internship will be waiting for you, okay? I’m sure Mr. Street would love to have lunch when you get back.”

I pull out of his arms, shaking my head in disbelief. How can he just let this happen?

I clench my teeth as my eyes dart between my parents. “I hate you both for doing this.”

“Ellis—”

My bare feet pound against the hardwood floor with each step toward my bedroom, cutting off whatever empty argument my mom was about to offer. I slam my door behind me and walk over to my window, where, finally, I let my tears zigzag freely down my cheeks.

Outside, the sun washes over the city. People go about their Saturday morning as if the whole world didn’t just flip upside down and catch fire. As if my whole life weren’t just upended. As if my whole future weren’t just crushed.

Until I started high school, my parents and I used to visit my aunt Naomi and my cousin Sloane every summer. So I already know what I’m walking into.

I already know there’s nothing for me in Bramble Falls, Connecticut.
\"},{\"id\":\"122996090T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Chapter One Chapter One
Caviar is disgusting, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

Still, I roll the eggs around in my mouth as if they’re a fine wine, just like Dad told me to do before he abandoned me in the corner to go talk to one of the many white-haired men at this event. If I weren’t at the Street Media Corporation annual gala, I would spit it out in a heartbeat. But I can’t embarrass Dad by being the Girl Next to the Fake Plant Spitting Expensive Food into Her Napkin. So I let them sit in my mouth, hoping they’ll just dissolve so I don’t have to force them down.

A small band plays in the front of the sparkling room full of expensive dresses and tuxedos. Four couples make use of the hotel ballroom’s dance floor while the rest of the attendees either stand around mingling or sit at the tables adorned in white luxury linens and orchid centerpieces. Tonight’s gala is both a celebration of the company’s profitable past year and a networking event with potential investors. Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is here, dancing and laughing and meeting wealthy new faces.

And I am simply an intern lucky enough to have an important dad.

“Ah, you’ve found the rare delicacy,” Mr. Street says, startling me as he appears at my side. He nods at the caviar spoon in my hand. There’s no way I’m insulting the host of the party—not to mention the CEO and founder of the news conglomerate—so I swallow the melting eggs and shoot him a grin. Or what I hope looks like a grin.

“I have. They’re delicious,” I lie, holding back a gag.

“I hear you should press them against your soft palate to truly experience the buttery flavor and unique texture.” Mr. Street shakes his head. “Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal, but to each their own.”

You’ve got to be kidding.

I could have been standing here exchanging quippy lines about how repulsive these eggs are, and how everyone in the room is surely faking their enjoyment of them, but instead I’m one of the fakers.

I deflate at the missed networking opportunity.

“How has your internship been so far, Ms. Mitchell?” Mr. Street asks, the light from the crystal chandeliers reflecting off his kind brown eyes and balding head.

“It’s been great,” I tell him. “I’m learning so much.”

This is only half true. It’s hard to learn from lower-level journalists and content creators when I’ve grown up the daughter of Brad Mitchell, president of Street Media. I was five years old when Dad first taught me all about journalistic integrity and source anonymity. And although this is my first summer at the company in an official capacity, I’ve shadowed him the last two summers, learning the company ropes, interviewing techniques, how to write a compelling article, and how to recognize and filter bias. Dad says journalism is in my blood and that one day, when he retires, I’ll take his place. All I need is solid experience and the right contacts.

In other words, the Streets.

“That’s fantastic.” Mr. Street takes a sip from his champagne flute. “Have you worked on any assignments you’ve particularly loved?”

The highlight of my whole summer has been tagging along with a reporter covering the Model Icon Fashion Show, but I know better than to say that.

“I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toes into foreign affairs. Covering the European Parliament election and the situation in Ukraine has been really eye-opening.”

“Oh yes, your dad did mention your interest in overseas matters. Did you know I started out as a foreign-affairs reporter?”

I did know that, of course, because a good journalist does her homework.

“Oh wow. I had no idea,” I say, leaning in and feigning interest. “Do you have any good stories from those days? Or any wisdom to impart?”

“Now, Ellis,” I hear from behind me as my dad joins us, placing his hand on my shoulder, “you cannot monopolize Edward’s time tonight. As the host, he has too much schmoozing to do.”

Mr. Street chuckles. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is true, but perhaps we can all get lunch together next week.”

“I would love that,” I say.

“Check my calendar with Anita and get it set up, Brad. I have a feeling your daughter is going to do big things. Her passion simply emanates from her.” Mr. Street beams at me. “Go get yourself more caviar before it’s all gone, Ms. Mitchell.”

He heads toward a group of bigwigs in a heated debate, and Dad turns to me, his Work Smile shifting to his Dad Smile, a difference that is probably imperceptible to anyone else. His eyes linger on my shirt and his smile slips away.

“Is that one of your… creations?” he asks, disappointment dripping from each word.

I tug self-consciously at the fitted halter top that I made out of a thrifted oxford. The addition of one of Mom’s decorative cameo brooches and the floor-length silk Carolina Herrera skirt push it comfortably into black-tie territory, but Dad seems to think otherwise.

“It is…,” I confirm, now regretting not wearing something simpler.

“Well, it seems you made a good impression, regardless.”

I shrug. “I didn’t really say much of anything.”

“Did you bring up foreign affairs like we talked about?”

I nod. “I did.”

Dad winks at me. “Good going, kid. I’ll get lunch set up on Monday.” He points subtly to a curvy blond woman in her mid-thirties wearing a gorgeous gold dress. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Catherine Howe? She’s an executive producer at WorldNet Studios.”

Dad flashes his Work Smile at a group of old men across the room before leaving me standing alone in the corner again.

My phone buzzes in my clutch purse, and even though I shouldn’t, I take it out to check the message.

Foodie Fernie: hurry and finish up at that snooze fest. Party at my place! Jordan’s here ;)

I put my phone back into my purse and sigh. I’d love to ditch this stuffy gala and hang out with friends for a change. I’d love to show off my outfit to people who would actually care how cute I look tonight. But if I’m going to get into Columbia and then get a job at Street Media, I have to put in the work. I don’t have time for parties or boys or, lately, even my best friend.

So, I push my shoulders back, ignore my screaming feet, and head over to introduce myself to Catherine Howe.

Soft sunlight filters through my bedroom window as I lie on my stomach in bed, staring at the daunting Columbia application on my laptop. Outside, the soundtrack of the city plays on repeat—horns honking, a construction crew shouting, sirens blaring, pigeons cooing. Anxiety balloons in the space between my ribs as I enter my contact information—which is further than I got last time I opened the application.

Maybe I’m more nervous about college than I thought.

I click on the next section of the application and immediately bury my face in my plush white comforter. I don’t know why this is so stressful. I want this.

I lift my head back up, and my gaze falls on the other tab I have open: the FIT home page. Last year I took fashion merchandising as one of my electives at school, and my teacher suggested I look into the Fashion Institute of Technology, claiming I have a real aptitude for fashion. Of course, that’s not part of my life plan. Dad and I agree that journalism is a much more practical career path, and I’ve been working toward Columbia my whole life. But it won’t hurt to check out the FIT application—just to see what it entails.

I’m definitely not procrastinating on the Columbia application.

The website loads, and I click on the admissions page, a sense of calm washing over me, probably because it doesn’t represent my entire future or the pressure that comes with it.

I’m reading through the essay prompt—Tell us why you’re interested in fashion, including your experience and inspiration—when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I click on the portfolio requirements as Dad opens the door, his eyes tired and his posture slumped—a completely different person than he was last night at the gala. He trudges over to the bed and sits.

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Are you okay?”

“Your mom—” He stops as his gaze catches on my computer screen, and he narrows his eyes. My stomach plummets. “What are you looking at there? I thought we discussed this.”

“We did.” I close my laptop. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re very talented at designing clothes, Ellis, but we agreed that’s just a way to show Columbia that you have diversified interests.”

“I know. I was just looking. I figured it couldn’t hurt to apply to FIT as a backup school, though. Everyone applies to safety schools.”

“Uh-huh…” Dad nods slowly. Skeptically. “Well, keep your eye on the ball. Don’t let your hobbies distract you from what’s important. You have to be tenacious and focused if you’re going to be successful.”

“I know, Dad. I already started filling out the Columbia application. Don’t worry.”

Even if it was just my name and address.

“Good. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that your mom and I need to talk to you.” He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s waiting for us in the living room.”

I draw my eyebrows together. Something is off. “Okay…”

I leave my computer on my bed and follow Dad to the living room, where Mom is sitting stiffly on the gray leather couch, wringing her hands and staring at the floor, her strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. The dark circles under her eyes match Dad’s. Warning bells go off in my head.

She looks up when I sit on the sofa next to her. “Good morning, honey.”

“Morning…” I glance at Dad, who’s staring at the wall behind me. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Mom begins, “we wanted to talk to you about something. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things between your dad and me have been…”

“Rough?” I supply.

“Exactly. Things have been rough lately. There’s no easy way to say this, but… we’ve decided to take some time apart.”

Panic seeps into my chest. “Are you getting a divorce?”

“No,” Dad says quickly.

Mom shoots him a glare, then settles her eyes on me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I shake my head. “Okay, well, I know you two have been fighting a lot, but can’t you work it out?”

“No, we can’t. Not this time,” Mom says. “But your aunt Naomi has some extra space at her house, and I think some time apart will be best for all of us.”

I look at Dad, hoping he’ll object. Hoping he’ll have some other solution. He always has a solution to everything.

But he only continues to stare at the wall, his jaw twitching.

“Dad? Say something. Do something.”

“There’s nothing to do, Ellis. The decision’s been made,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. Stubble shadows his face, and his hair looks as though he’s run his hand through it a hundred times. He looks defeated.

“It’ll be tough for the family not to be together, but we’ll get through it,” Mom says, offering a weak smile.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

Mom’s eyes widen a bit, some realization dawning on her. “Oh. Well, you’re coming with me to Bramble Falls.”

“What?” I stop breathing. “No, I’m not. School starts this week,” I remind her.

“You’ll go to school in Bramble Falls for a little while,” she says. “We’ll be back by Thanksgiving.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not starting at a new school. Dad, tell her.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, the decision’s been made, Ellis. You heard your mother.”

I stand, now hovering over Mom, who sits with her lips pressed tightly together, avoiding looking at me. “I’m not going to freaking Connecticut. You can’t make me leave my home and my friends and my school during my senior year! What about my commitments? I mean, I’m volunteering at the nursing home, and I’m still doing my internship at Street Media after school three days a week. And I’m finally the editor of the school newspaper this year! I’m sorry, but no. I can’t leave. Being here is imperative to my getting into Columbia. Why can’t I just stay with Dad?”

Mom finally looks at me, her face hard and unreadable. “This isn’t up for debate.” She stands. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so you better go pack.”

“What? I don’t even get to say goodbye to Fern or give my jobs any notice? I’m supposed to have lunch with Mr. Street this week. Please, Mom, don’t do this.”

My heart thuds wildly and unshed tears blur my vision. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Staying isn’t an option,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I’m sorry.”

I turn my back to her. “Dad, please,” I beg, walking over to him, blinking rapidly in my refusal to cry.

Dad pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “It’s only temporary, Ellis. Your internship will be waiting for you, okay? I’m sure Mr. Street would love to have lunch when you get back.”

I pull out of his arms, shaking my head in disbelief. How can he just let this happen?

I clench my teeth as my eyes dart between my parents. “I hate you both for doing this.”

“Ellis—”

My bare feet pound against the hardwood floor with each step toward my bedroom, cutting off whatever empty argument my mom was about to offer. I slam my door behind me and walk over to my window, where, finally, I let my tears zigzag freely down my cheeks.

Outside, the sun washes over the city. People go about their Saturday morning as if the whole world didn’t just flip upside down and catch fire. As if my whole life weren’t just upended. As if my whole future weren’t just crushed.

Until I started high school, my parents and I used to visit my aunt Naomi and my cousin Sloane every summer. So I already know what I’m walking into.

I already know there’s nothing for me in Bramble Falls, Connecticut.
\"},{\"id\":\"122996094T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Chapter One Chapter One
Caviar is disgusting, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

Still, I roll the eggs around in my mouth as if they’re a fine wine, just like Dad told me to do before he abandoned me in the corner to go talk to one of the many white-haired men at this event. If I weren’t at the Street Media Corporation annual gala, I would spit it out in a heartbeat. But I can’t embarrass Dad by being the Girl Next to the Fake Plant Spitting Expensive Food into Her Napkin. So I let them sit in my mouth, hoping they’ll just dissolve so I don’t have to force them down.

A small band plays in the front of the sparkling room full of expensive dresses and tuxedos. Four couples make use of the hotel ballroom’s dance floor while the rest of the attendees either stand around mingling or sit at the tables adorned in white luxury linens and orchid centerpieces. Tonight’s gala is both a celebration of the company’s profitable past year and a networking event with potential investors. Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is here, dancing and laughing and meeting wealthy new faces.

And I am simply an intern lucky enough to have an important dad.

“Ah, you’ve found the rare delicacy,” Mr. Street says, startling me as he appears at my side. He nods at the caviar spoon in my hand. There’s no way I’m insulting the host of the party—not to mention the CEO and founder of the news conglomerate—so I swallow the melting eggs and shoot him a grin. Or what I hope looks like a grin.

“I have. They’re delicious,” I lie, holding back a gag.

“I hear you should press them against your soft palate to truly experience the buttery flavor and unique texture.” Mr. Street shakes his head. “Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal, but to each their own.”

You’ve got to be kidding.

I could have been standing here exchanging quippy lines about how repulsive these eggs are, and how everyone in the room is surely faking their enjoyment of them, but instead I’m one of the fakers.

I deflate at the missed networking opportunity.

“How has your internship been so far, Ms. Mitchell?” Mr. Street asks, the light from the crystal chandeliers reflecting off his kind brown eyes and balding head.

“It’s been great,” I tell him. “I’m learning so much.”

This is only half true. It’s hard to learn from lower-level journalists and content creators when I’ve grown up the daughter of Brad Mitchell, president of Street Media. I was five years old when Dad first taught me all about journalistic integrity and source anonymity. And although this is my first summer at the company in an official capacity, I’ve shadowed him the last two summers, learning the company ropes, interviewing techniques, how to write a compelling article, and how to recognize and filter bias. Dad says journalism is in my blood and that one day, when he retires, I’ll take his place. All I need is solid experience and the right contacts.

In other words, the Streets.

“That’s fantastic.” Mr. Street takes a sip from his champagne flute. “Have you worked on any assignments you’ve particularly loved?”

The highlight of my whole summer has been tagging along with a reporter covering the Model Icon Fashion Show, but I know better than to say that.

“I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toes into foreign affairs. Covering the European Parliament election and the situation in Ukraine has been really eye-opening.”

“Oh yes, your dad did mention your interest in overseas matters. Did you know I started out as a foreign-affairs reporter?”

I did know that, of course, because a good journalist does her homework.

“Oh wow. I had no idea,” I say, leaning in and feigning interest. “Do you have any good stories from those days? Or any wisdom to impart?”

“Now, Ellis,” I hear from behind me as my dad joins us, placing his hand on my shoulder, “you cannot monopolize Edward’s time tonight. As the host, he has too much schmoozing to do.”

Mr. Street chuckles. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is true, but perhaps we can all get lunch together next week.”

“I would love that,” I say.

“Check my calendar with Anita and get it set up, Brad. I have a feeling your daughter is going to do big things. Her passion simply emanates from her.” Mr. Street beams at me. “Go get yourself more caviar before it’s all gone, Ms. Mitchell.”

He heads toward a group of bigwigs in a heated debate, and Dad turns to me, his Work Smile shifting to his Dad Smile, a difference that is probably imperceptible to anyone else. His eyes linger on my shirt and his smile slips away.

“Is that one of your... creations?” he asks, disappointment dripping from each word.

I tug self-consciously at the fitted halter top that I made out of a thrifted oxford. The addition of one of Mom’s decorative cameo brooches and the floor-length silk Carolina Herrera skirt push it comfortably into black-tie territory, but Dad seems to think otherwise.

“It is...,” I confirm, now regretting not wearing something simpler.

“Well, it seems you made a good impression, regardless.”

I shrug. “I didn’t really say much of anything.”

“Did you bring up foreign affairs like we talked about?”

I nod. “I did.”

Dad winks at me. “Good going, kid. I’ll get lunch set up on Monday.” He points subtly to a curvy blond woman in her mid-thirties wearing a gorgeous gold dress. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Catherine Howe? She’s an executive producer at WorldNet Studios.”

Dad flashes his Work Smile at a group of old men across the room before leaving me standing alone in the corner again.

My phone buzzes in my clutch purse, and even though I shouldn’t, I take it out to check the message.

Foodie Fernie: hurry and finish up at that snooze fest. Party at my place! Jordan’s here ;)

I put my phone back into my purse and sigh. I’d love to ditch this stuffy gala and hang out with friends for a change. I’d love to show off my outfit to people who would actually care how cute I look tonight. But if I’m going to get into Columbia and then get a job at Street Media, I have to put in the work. I don’t have time for parties or boys or, lately, even my best friend.

So, I push my shoulders back, ignore my screaming feet, and head over to introduce myself to Catherine Howe.

Soft sunlight filters through my bedroom window as I lie on my stomach in bed, staring at the daunting Columbia application on my laptop. Outside, the soundtrack of the city plays on repeat—horns honking, a construction crew shouting, sirens blaring, pigeons cooing. Anxiety balloons in the space between my ribs as I enter my contact information—which is further than I got last time I opened the application.

Maybe I’m more nervous about college than I thought.

I click on the next section of the application and immediately bury my face in my plush white comforter. I don’t know why this is so stressful. I want this.

I lift my head back up, and my gaze falls on the other tab I have open: the FIT home page. Last year I took fashion merchandising as one of my electives at school, and my teacher suggested I look into the Fashion Institute of Technology, claiming I have a real aptitude for fashion. Of course, that’s not part of my life plan. Dad and I agree that journalism is a much more practical career path, and I’ve been working toward Columbia my whole life. But it won’t hurt to check out the FIT application—just to see what it entails.

I’m definitely not procrastinating on the Columbia application.

The website loads, and I click on the admissions page, a sense of calm washing over me, probably because it doesn’t represent my entire future or the pressure that comes with it.

I’m reading through the essay prompt—Tell us why you’re interested in fashion, including your experience and inspiration—when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I click on the portfolio requirements as Dad opens the door, his eyes tired and his posture slumped—a completely different person than he was last night at the gala. He trudges over to the bed and sits.

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Are you okay?”

“Your mom—” He stops as his gaze catches on my computer screen, and he narrows his eyes. My stomach plummets. “What are you looking at there? I thought we discussed this.”

“We did.” I close my laptop. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re very talented at designing clothes, Ellis, but we agreed that’s just a way to show Columbia that you have diversified interests.”

“I know. I was just looking. I figured it couldn’t hurt to apply to FIT as a backup school, though. Everyone applies to safety schools.”

“Uh-huh...” Dad nods slowly. Skeptically. “Well, keep your eye on the ball. Don’t let your hobbies distract you from what’s important. You have to be tenacious and focused if you’re going to be successful.”

“I know, Dad. I already started filling out the Columbia application. Don’t worry.”

Even if it was just my name and address.

“Good. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that your mom and I need to talk to you.” He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s waiting for us in the living room.”

I draw my eyebrows together. Something is off. “Okay...”

I leave my computer on my bed and follow Dad to the living room, where Mom is sitting stiffly on the gray leather couch, wringing her hands and staring at the floor, her strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. The dark circles under her eyes match Dad’s. Warning bells go off in my head.

She looks up when I sit on the sofa next to her. “Good morning, honey.”

“Morning...” I glance at Dad, who’s staring at the wall behind me. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Mom begins, “we wanted to talk to you about something. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things between your dad and me have been...”

“Rough?” I supply.

“Exactly. Things have been rough lately. There’s no easy way to say this, but... we’ve decided to take some time apart.”

Panic seeps into my chest. “Are you getting a divorce?”

“No,” Dad says quickly.

Mom shoots him a glare, then settles her eyes on me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I shake my head. “Okay, well, I know you two have been fighting a lot, but can’t you work it out?”

“No, we can’t. Not this time,” Mom says. “But your aunt Naomi has some extra space at her house, and I think some time apart will be best for all of us.”

I look at Dad, hoping he’ll object. Hoping he’ll have some other solution. He always has a solution to everything.

But he only continues to stare at the wall, his jaw twitching.

“Dad? Say something. Do something.”

“There’s nothing to do, Ellis. The decision’s been made,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. Stubble shadows his face, and his hair looks as though he’s run his hand through it a hundred times. He looks defeated.

“It’ll be tough for the family not to be together, but we’ll get through it,” Mom says, offering a weak smile.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

Mom’s eyes widen a bit, some realization dawning on her. “Oh. Well, you’re coming with me to Bramble Falls.”

“What?” I stop breathing. “No, I’m not. School starts this week,” I remind her.

“You’ll go to school in Bramble Falls for a little while,” she says. “We’ll be back by Thanksgiving.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not starting at a new school. Dad, tell her.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, the decision’s been made, Ellis. You heard your mother.”

I stand, now hovering over Mom, who sits with her lips pressed tightly together, avoiding looking at me. “I’m not going to freaking Connecticut. You can’t make me leave my home and my friends and my school during my senior year! What about my commitments? I mean, I’m volunteering at the nursing home, and I’m still doing my internship at Street Media after school three days a week. And I’m finally the editor of the school newspaper this year! I’m sorry, but no. I can’t leave. Being here is imperative to my getting into Columbia. Why can’t I just stay with Dad?”

Mom finally looks at me, her face hard and unreadable. “This isn’t up for debate.” She stands. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so you better go pack.”

“What? I don’t even get to say goodbye to Fern or give my jobs any notice? I’m supposed to have lunch with Mr. Street this week. Please, Mom, don’t do this.”

My heart thuds wildly and unshed tears blur my vision. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Staying isn’t an option,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I’m sorry.”

I turn my back to her. “Dad, please,” I beg, walking over to him, blinking rapidly in my refusal to cry.

Dad pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “It’s only temporary, Ellis. Your internship will be waiting for you, okay? I’m sure Mr. Street would love to have lunch when you get back.”

I pull out of his arms, shaking my head in disbelief. How can he just let this happen?

I clench my teeth as my eyes dart between my parents. “I hate you both for doing this.”

“Ellis—”

My bare feet pound against the hardwood floor with each step toward my bedroom, cutting off whatever empty argument my mom was about to offer. I slam my door behind me and walk over to my window, where, finally, I let my tears zigzag freely down my cheeks.

Outside, the sun washes over the city. People go about their Saturday morning as if the whole world didn’t just flip upside down and catch fire. As if my whole life weren’t just upended. As if my whole future weren’t just crushed.

Until I started high school, my parents and I used to visit my aunt Naomi and my cousin Sloane every summer. So I already know what I’m walking into.

I already know there’s nothing for me in Bramble Falls, Connecticut.
\"},{\"id\":\"122996092T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Chapter One Chapter One
Caviar is disgusting, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

Still, I roll the eggs around in my mouth as if they’re a fine wine, just like Dad told me to do before he abandoned me in the corner to go talk to one of the many white-haired men at this event. If I weren’t at the Street Media Corporation annual gala, I would spit it out in a heartbeat. But I can’t embarrass Dad by being the Girl Next to the Fake Plant Spitting Expensive Food into Her Napkin. So I let them sit in my mouth, hoping they’ll just dissolve so I don’t have to force them down.

A small band plays in the front of the sparkling room full of expensive dresses and tuxedos. Four couples make use of the hotel ballroom’s dance floor while the rest of the attendees either stand around mingling or sit at the tables adorned in white luxury linens and orchid centerpieces. Tonight’s gala is both a celebration of the company’s profitable past year and a networking event with potential investors. Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is here, dancing and laughing and meeting wealthy new faces.

And I am simply an intern lucky enough to have an important dad.

“Ah, you’ve found the rare delicacy,” Mr. Street says, startling me as he appears at my side. He nods at the caviar spoon in my hand. There’s no way I’m insulting the host of the party—not to mention the CEO and founder of the news conglomerate—so I swallow the melting eggs and shoot him a grin. Or what I hope looks like a grin.

“I have. They’re delicious,” I lie, holding back a gag.

“I hear you should press them against your soft palate to truly experience the buttery flavor and unique texture.” Mr. Street shakes his head. “Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal, but to each their own.”

You’ve got to be kidding.

I could have been standing here exchanging quippy lines about how repulsive these eggs are, and how everyone in the room is surely faking their enjoyment of them, but instead I’m one of the fakers.

I deflate at the missed networking opportunity.

“How has your internship been so far, Ms. Mitchell?” Mr. Street asks, the light from the crystal chandeliers reflecting off his kind brown eyes and balding head.

“It’s been great,” I tell him. “I’m learning so much.”

This is only half true. It’s hard to learn from lower-level journalists and content creators when I’ve grown up the daughter of Brad Mitchell, president of Street Media. I was five years old when Dad first taught me all about journalistic integrity and source anonymity. And although this is my first summer at the company in an official capacity, I’ve shadowed him the last two summers, learning the company ropes, interviewing techniques, how to write a compelling article, and how to recognize and filter bias. Dad says journalism is in my blood and that one day, when he retires, I’ll take his place. All I need is solid experience and the right contacts.

In other words, the Streets.

“That’s fantastic.” Mr. Street takes a sip from his champagne flute. “Have you worked on any assignments you’ve particularly loved?”

The highlight of my whole summer has been tagging along with a reporter covering the Model Icon Fashion Show, but I know better than to say that.

“I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toes into foreign affairs. Covering the European Parliament election and the situation in Ukraine has been really eye-opening.”

“Oh yes, your dad did mention your interest in overseas matters. Did you know I started out as a foreign-affairs reporter?”

I did know that, of course, because a good journalist does her homework.

“Oh wow. I had no idea,” I say, leaning in and feigning interest. “Do you have any good stories from those days? Or any wisdom to impart?”

“Now, Ellis,” I hear from behind me as my dad joins us, placing his hand on my shoulder, “you cannot monopolize Edward’s time tonight. As the host, he has too much schmoozing to do.”

Mr. Street chuckles. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is true, but perhaps we can all get lunch together next week.”

“I would love that,” I say.

“Check my calendar with Anita and get it set up, Brad. I have a feeling your daughter is going to do big things. Her passion simply emanates from her.” Mr. Street beams at me. “Go get yourself more caviar before it’s all gone, Ms. Mitchell.”

He heads toward a group of bigwigs in a heated debate, and Dad turns to me, his Work Smile shifting to his Dad Smile, a difference that is probably imperceptible to anyone else. His eyes linger on my shirt and his smile slips away.

“Is that one of your... creations?” he asks, disappointment dripping from each word.

I tug self-consciously at the fitted halter top that I made out of a thrifted oxford. The addition of one of Mom’s decorative cameo brooches and the floor-length silk Carolina Herrera skirt push it comfortably into black-tie territory, but Dad seems to think otherwise.

“It is...,” I confirm, now regretting not wearing something simpler.

“Well, it seems you made a good impression, regardless.”

I shrug. “I didn’t really say much of anything.”

“Did you bring up foreign affairs like we talked about?”

I nod. “I did.”

Dad winks at me. “Good going, kid. I’ll get lunch set up on Monday.” He points subtly to a curvy blond woman in her mid-thirties wearing a gorgeous gold dress. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Catherine Howe? She’s an executive producer at WorldNet Studios.”

Dad flashes his Work Smile at a group of old men across the room before leaving me standing alone in the corner again.

My phone buzzes in my clutch purse, and even though I shouldn’t, I take it out to check the message.

Foodie Fernie: hurry and finish up at that snooze fest. Party at my place! Jordan’s here ;)

I put my phone back into my purse and sigh. I’d love to ditch this stuffy gala and hang out with friends for a change. I’d love to show off my outfit to people who would actually care how cute I look tonight. But if I’m going to get into Columbia and then get a job at Street Media, I have to put in the work. I don’t have time for parties or boys or, lately, even my best friend.

So, I push my shoulders back, ignore my screaming feet, and head over to introduce myself to Catherine Howe.

Soft sunlight filters through my bedroom window as I lie on my stomach in bed, staring at the daunting Columbia application on my laptop. Outside, the soundtrack of the city plays on repeat—horns honking, a construction crew shouting, sirens blaring, pigeons cooing. Anxiety balloons in the space between my ribs as I enter my contact information—which is further than I got last time I opened the application.

Maybe I’m more nervous about college than I thought.

I click on the next section of the application and immediately bury my face in my plush white comforter. I don’t know why this is so stressful. I want this.

I lift my head back up, and my gaze falls on the other tab I have open: the FIT home page. Last year I took fashion merchandising as one of my electives at school, and my teacher suggested I look into the Fashion Institute of Technology, claiming I have a real aptitude for fashion. Of course, that’s not part of my life plan. Dad and I agree that journalism is a much more practical career path, and I’ve been working toward Columbia my whole life. But it won’t hurt to check out the FIT application—just to see what it entails.

I’m definitely not procrastinating on the Columbia application.

The website loads, and I click on the admissions page, a sense of calm washing over me, probably because it doesn’t represent my entire future or the pressure that comes with it.

I’m reading through the essay prompt—Tell us why you’re interested in fashion, including your experience and inspiration—when there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in!” I click on the portfolio requirements as Dad opens the door, his eyes tired and his posture slumped—a completely different person than he was last night at the gala. He trudges over to the bed and sits.

“What’s up?” I ask him. “Are you okay?”

“Your mom—” He stops as his gaze catches on my computer screen, and he narrows his eyes. My stomach plummets. “What are you looking at there? I thought we discussed this.”

“We did.” I close my laptop. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re very talented at designing clothes, Ellis, but we agreed that’s just a way to show Columbia that you have diversified interests.”

“I know. I was just looking. I figured it couldn’t hurt to apply to FIT as a backup school, though. Everyone applies to safety schools.”

“Uh-huh...” Dad nods slowly. Skeptically. “Well, keep your eye on the ball. Don’t let your hobbies distract you from what’s important. You have to be tenacious and focused if you’re going to be successful.”

“I know, Dad. I already started filling out the Columbia application. Don’t worry.”

Even if it was just my name and address.

“Good. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that your mom and I need to talk to you.” He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “She’s waiting for us in the living room.”

I draw my eyebrows together. Something is off. “Okay...”

I leave my computer on my bed and follow Dad to the living room, where Mom is sitting stiffly on the gray leather couch, wringing her hands and staring at the floor, her strawberry-blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. The dark circles under her eyes match Dad’s. Warning bells go off in my head.

She looks up when I sit on the sofa next to her. “Good morning, honey.”

“Morning...” I glance at Dad, who’s staring at the wall behind me. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Mom begins, “we wanted to talk to you about something. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things between your dad and me have been...”

“Rough?” I supply.

“Exactly. Things have been rough lately. There’s no easy way to say this, but... we’ve decided to take some time apart.”

Panic seeps into my chest. “Are you getting a divorce?”

“No,” Dad says quickly.

Mom shoots him a glare, then settles her eyes on me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I shake my head. “Okay, well, I know you two have been fighting a lot, but can’t you work it out?”

“No, we can’t. Not this time,” Mom says. “But your aunt Naomi has some extra space at her house, and I think some time apart will be best for all of us.”

I look at Dad, hoping he’ll object. Hoping he’ll have some other solution. He always has a solution to everything.

But he only continues to stare at the wall, his jaw twitching.

“Dad? Say something. Do something.”

“There’s nothing to do, Ellis. The decision’s been made,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. Stubble shadows his face, and his hair looks as though he’s run his hand through it a hundred times. He looks defeated.

“It’ll be tough for the family not to be together, but we’ll get through it,” Mom says, offering a weak smile.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

Mom’s eyes widen a bit, some realization dawning on her. “Oh. Well, you’re coming with me to Bramble Falls.”

“What?” I stop breathing. “No, I’m not. School starts this week,” I remind her.

“You’ll go to school in Bramble Falls for a little while,” she says. “We’ll be back by Thanksgiving.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not starting at a new school. Dad, tell her.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, the decision’s been made, Ellis. You heard your mother.”

I stand, now hovering over Mom, who sits with her lips pressed tightly together, avoiding looking at me. “I’m not going to freaking Connecticut. You can’t make me leave my home and my friends and my school during my senior year! What about my commitments? I mean, I’m volunteering at the nursing home, and I’m still doing my internship at Street Media after school three days a week. And I’m finally the editor of the school newspaper this year! I’m sorry, but no. I can’t leave. Being here is imperative to my getting into Columbia. Why can’t I just stay with Dad?”

Mom finally looks at me, her face hard and unreadable. “This isn’t up for debate.” She stands. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so you better go pack.”

“What? I don’t even get to say goodbye to Fern or give my jobs any notice? I’m supposed to have lunch with Mr. Street this week. Please, Mom, don’t do this.”

My heart thuds wildly and unshed tears blur my vision. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Staying isn’t an option,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I’m sorry.”

I turn my back to her. “Dad, please,” I beg, walking over to him, blinking rapidly in my refusal to cry.

Dad pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “It’s only temporary, Ellis. Your internship will be waiting for you, okay? I’m sure Mr. Street would love to have lunch when you get back.”

I pull out of his arms, shaking my head in disbelief. How can he just let this happen?

I clench my teeth as my eyes dart between my parents. “I hate you both for doing this.”

“Ellis—”

My bare feet pound against the hardwood floor with each step toward my bedroom, cutting off whatever empty argument my mom was about to offer. I slam my door behind me and walk over to my window, where, finally, I let my tears zigzag freely down my cheeks.

Outside, the sun washes over the city. People go about their Saturday morning as if the whole world didn’t just flip upside down and catch fire. As if my whole life weren’t just upended. As if my whole future weren’t just crushed.

Until I started high school, my parents and I used to visit my aunt Naomi and my cousin Sloane every summer. So I already know what I’m walking into.

I already know there’s nothing for me in Bramble Falls, Connecticut.
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Ellis and her mom move from NYC to the charming Connecticut town of Bramble Falls, where small-town romance swirls like autumn leaves falling into place.

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Misty Wilson is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bramble Falls series and Play Like a Girl, her award-winning debut middle grade graphic memoir. Misty is a teacher, registered nurse, and a voracious reader. She loves binge-watching television series and adores rom-coms. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband and their two daughters.

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\"},{\"id\":\"122996105T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Misty Wilson is the author of Falling Like Leaves and Play Like a Girl, her award-winning debut middle grade graphic memoir. Misty is a teacher, registered nurse, and a voracious reader. She loves binge-watching television series and adores rom-coms. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband and their two daughters.\"},{\"id\":\"122996102T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Misty Wilson is the author of Falling Like Leaves and Play Like a Girl, her award-winning debut middle grade graphic memoir. Misty is a teacher, registered nurse, and a voracious reader. She loves binge-watching television series and adores rom-coms. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband and their two daughters.\"},{\"id\":\"122996099T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Misty Wilson is the author of Falling Like Leaves and Play Like a Girl, her award-winning debut middle grade graphic memoir. Misty is a teacher, registered nurse, and a voracious reader. She loves binge-watching television series and adores rom-coms. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband and their two daughters.\"}]",{"_41":2936,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":2937},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010486104305","Falling-Like-Leaves/Misty-Wilson",{"_41":2939,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":2940},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010485285105","1146889511",{"_41":2942,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010485776625",{"_41":2944,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2915},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010486464753",{"_41":2946,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":2893},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010484400369",{"_41":2948,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76010485874929",{"_41":2950,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2951},"gid://shopify/Metafield/86837449523441","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.4\"}",{"_41":2953,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":2954},"gid://shopify/Metafield/79078002295025","72",{"_1901":1902,"_41":2956,"_71":2957,"_1905":2392,"_825":2958,"_1908":2959,"_1910":2960,"_1912":2961,"_1919":2965,"_1927":59,"_1928":2968,"_1934":2971,"_1955":2981,"_1956":2983,"_1958":2984,"_1960":2985,"_1961":2986},"gid://shopify/Product/9474025816305","Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel: The New Miss Marple Mystery (B&N Exclusive Edition)","9780063578074","This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition features a Q&A between Lucy Foley and the host of the popular All About Agatha podcast, Kemper Donovan.The brand-new Miss Marple novel from Lucy Foley, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Guest List and The Midnight Feast.High in the Swiss Alps, accessible only by a single, winding railway, stands the luxurious Grand Alpine Hotel. With glorious mountain views and exclusive access to powdery slopes, it draws guests from far and wide.The notorious actress.The high-flying politician.The society wife.The reckless friend.The shrewd doctor.But not everyone is here for a winter holiday.Beneath the champagne and furs, dark histories simmer; old grudges emerge like cracks in the ice.And someone is watching from the shadows. A polite, unassuming woman with an extraordinary mind: Miss Marple.When a body is found and a blizzard cuts off all escape, only Miss Marple can connect the clues before the killer strikes again. Because it isn't a question of who has a motive, but who's next...","

This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition features a Q&A between Lucy Foley and the host of the popular All About Agatha podcast, Kemper Donovan.

The brand-new Miss Marple novel from Lucy Foley, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Guest List and The Midnight Feast.

High in the Swiss Alps, accessible only by a single, winding railway, stands the luxurious Grand Alpine Hotel. With glorious mountain views and exclusive access to powdery slopes, it draws guests from far and wide.

The notorious actress.

The high-flying politician.

The society wife.

The reckless friend.

The shrewd doctor.

But not everyone is here for a winter holiday.

Beneath the champagne and furs, dark histories simmer; old grudges emerge like cracks in the ice.

And someone is watching from the shadows. A polite, unassuming woman with an extraordinary mind: Miss Marple.

When a body is found and a blizzard cuts off all escape, only Miss Marple can connect the clues before the killer strikes again. Because it isn't a question of who has a motive, but who's next...

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\\\"Evoking the great Agatha Christie classics… Lucy Foley’s clever, taut new novel, The Guest List, takes us to a creepy island off the coast of Ireland…Foley builds her suspense slowly and creepily, deploying an array of narrators bristling with personal secrets.” - New York Times Book Review
\\\"A modern-day Agatha Christie.\\\" - Entertainment Weekly
\\\"An atmospheric, tantalizing thriller peopled with utterly recognizable characters, all of them hiding something about themselves and their connection to the eerie Manor hotel in Dorset.\\\" - Nita Prose, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Maid on The Midnight Feast
“A sharp, stylish and stunning murder mystery. Darkly funny, with trademark twists and unforgettable characters.” - Chris Whitaker, New York Times bestselling author on The Midnight Feast
“Delicious and darkly glamorous, and full of brilliant twists.\\\" - #1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Jewell on The Midnight Feast
\\\"Everyone's favorite thriller author.\\\" - theSkimm
“This Tilt-A-Whirl of a novel brims with jangly tension – an undeniably engrossing guessing game.” - Vogue on The Paris Apartment
\"},{\"id\":\"124415036T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Miss Marple is back! Agatha Christie’s iconic sleuth returns in a new mystery from Lucy Foley, author of The Paris Apartment and The Hunting Party. After a body is discovered at a luxurious mountaintop resort, there is only one woman who can connect the clues before the killer strikes again.

\"},{\"id\":\"123722525T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Lucy Foley studied English literature at Durham University and University College London and worked for several years as a fiction editor in the publishing industry. She is the author of six novels including The Paris Apartment and The Guest List. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"123722524T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

Lucy Foley is a No.1 Sunday Times, Irish Times and New York Times bestselling author. Her contemporary murder mystery thrillers have sold over five million copies worldwide, and several are currently being adapted for the screen. She is a Waterstones Thriller of the Month author, a three-time nominee at the British Book Awards, and The Guest List was a Reese’s Book Club selection and winner of the Goodreads Choice Award for Mystery Thriller. As a life-long Agatha Christie fan, Lucy has drawn immeasurable inspiration from the Queen of Crime. She was one of 12 writers to contribute to Marple, a collection of short stories featuring the beloved detective. And in Murder at the Grand Alpine Hotel, she was inspired to transport Miss Marple – her favorite Christie creation – to the glamorous post-war setting of the Swiss Alps, in a mystery that feels gloriously escapist yet utterly relevant to our times.

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Lucy Foley studied English literature at Durham University and University College London and worked for several years as a fiction editor in the publishing industry. She is the author of six novels including The Paris Apartment and The Guest List. She lives in London.

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Prudence Welch has found solace in her introverted life in Baysville, a charming tourist town in Northern Ontario. Despite once dreaming of a life beyond its borders, she now finds contentment in her routines: working at her father's gas station, writing poetry, and caring for her mother, who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease shortly after Prue's nineteenth birthday. But as her mother's condition worsens and her father's concerns about her own future intensify, Prue feels her world slipping further out of control.

Enter Milo Kablukov, an enigmatic wanderer whose beat-up van covered with ill-advised bumper stickers rolls into town just when Prue needs a change. It's all too easy to let go with him, and Prue can't help but strike up an unlikely friendship with Milo, which leads to a wild and sexy agreement between them.

Milo, a man of many adventures and countless stories, is not one to settle down. However, his brother's urgent need for help has brought him to Baysville, and now the intriguing Prue has given him more reason to stay-especially once they start spending more time together, their chemistry intensifying, and casual-sex lessons begin at Prue's request.

But as their temporary arrangement blossoms into something deeper, Prue and Milo discover that getting out of their comfort zones is one thing . . . taking that leap together is something else entirely.",{"_41":3026,"_54":3027,"_56":3028,"_50":2088,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47563456643313","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593871881_p0.jpg?v=1768967758",878,{"_1921":3030},{"_1923":3031,"_1925":1926},"16.0",{"_1921":3033,"_1932":3034},{"_1923":2275,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":2275,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3036},[3037],{"_41":3038,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":3039,"_705":3040,"_1943":3041,"_1945":3042,"_1947":3043,"_1953":3022,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46272399769841",{"_1923":2275,"_1925":1926},{"_41":3026,"_54":3027,"_1918":-5,"_56":3028,"_50":2088},{"_1923":3031,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3021,"_825":3022},[3044],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":3046},"[\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"B|$3 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7847)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_1951":3022},{"_1951":1906},[3050,-5,-5,3053,3055,-5,3057,3059,3062,3065,3068,-5,3070,3072,-5,3074,3076,3078],{"_41":3051,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3052},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879728263409","[{\"contributorId\":29355959,\"fullName\":\"Hannah Bonam-Young\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3054,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879730458865",{"_41":3056,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879727706353",{"_41":3058,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879730655473",{"_41":3060,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3061},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879732261105","[{\"id\":\"127114454T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"One

Milo

\\\"Please, Bertha, baby, I am begging you,\\\" I say, tightening my hands around the shuddering steering wheel. There's not another living soul in sight. No one to witness our inevitable crash and burn if Bertha decides to call it quits and send us rolling backward down the hill. On this Muskoka backroad it's just me, Bertha, the black tar pavement under us, the gray storm clouds above us, the granite outcropping bordering either side of the road, and, as always, the bobblehead Jesus on my dash.

\\\"I swear to everything good and holy that if you make it over this hill, I'll never ask you for anything ever again.\\\" She sputters, and I grit my teeth waiting for the backward roll. \\\"If we make it to town,\\\" I plead, each syllable equal parts pathetic and desperate, \\\"I'll fill you up with premium fuel and let you rest for a week.\\\" The tires jolt, forcing my hands on the wheel to fight for control. \\\"Okay, okay! Two weeks. I promise.\\\"

My beloved van's speedometer is broken, as is most of her, but the temperature gauge isn't, unfortunately. The needle is fluctuating between you're beyond f***ed and are you on fire yet?

\\\"C'mon, old girl, don't quit on me now. Not yet. Don't you want to go home again?\\\" Though I cannot help but think that my death would probably save me from this familial obligation. Maybe Bertha is taking care of me, just as she has for the past decade, and death is the lesser of these two evils.

The sound of metal grinding against metal, an irritating high-pitched squealing, is her answer. Then, the choking of an engine, like the mechanical equivalent of a smoker's cough, which is never a good sign. I prepare my final words, taking a deep breath as the car slows to a stop a few feet shy of the top of the hill.

Well, this is it, I think to myself. I wonder what my obituary will read, if anyone bothers to write one. If it was up to me it would say: Milo Kablukov, 28, was a nomadic slut, childhood sheep farmer, and wannabe artist with a heart of gold and a penis that launched a thousand ships.

Just as I'm about to say my final goodbyes to this mortal plane, Bertha kicks back to life, taking us over the edge of the hilltop and onto flattened road. I open my eyes, having closed them while bracing for disaster.

\\\"Whew, baby!\\\" I shake my limbs free of tension as I adjust position in my seat and toss back my hair. \\\"You little tease,\\\" I say, petting the dashboard. I make a turn onto a backroad toward the train station with a flat palm on the wheel and slow my speed to give Bertha a rest. \\\"You really had my heart racing that time, gorgeous,\\\" I tell her, releasing the last of my tension in a languid breath.

Other than my younger sister, Nadia, Bertha has been the only consistent woman in my life since I got the f*** out of my hometown of Dorset, Ontario, the day after my eighteenth birthday. The town slogan, if it were up to me, would be: Dorset: Where the sheep outnumber the people.

I won't be returning there any time soon. My brother, my summoner, has set up home a few towns over. Somewhere just as boring, no doubt, but far enough away from Sonia and Andrei Kablukov-good old Mom and Pop-that my brother would even dare to ask Nadia and me to come to his rescue.

I pull up in front of the small white building that is technically a train station but looks more like an old cottage. \\\"There she is!\\\" I shout as I wheel the passenger window all the way down. \\\"Nadia motherf***in' Kablukov in the flesh!\\\"

My sister, who perpetually chews gum on one side of her mouth, smirks as she rolls her eyes. \\\"You're late.\\\" She leans into the window, tapping the inside of the passenger door. \\\"Hi, Bertha baby, you're looking as shitty as ever.\\\"

\\\"You look older again,\\\" I point out, scowling at her. \\\"You should really stop doing that.\\\"

\\\"Aging?\\\" she clarifies.

I nod.

\\\"Charming . . .\\\" She assesses me, or at least what she can see of me from the window, with a curious, wry grin.

I look her over too, in the habitual, almost subconscious way I always have. Searching for the scrapes, burns, and bruises, and hoping to find none. Nadia has always been equal parts stubborn and prideful, discontent to be the youngest of us three siblings. Which meant she got hurt trying to do things above her paygrade a lot.

At four, she tried to make her own breakfast, and I helped ice the burn from her run-in with the frying pan. At nine, she climbed up to the roof to fix the TV antenna, and I fixed the eaves trough she broke on her way down and bandaged up her ankle. At twelve, she tried to teach herself to drive Dad's tractor, and I mended the broken fence and her hand from the splinter she'd gotten trying to repair it herself. Then, there were all the many nights that she'd sneak into my room when Mom and Dad were screaming at each other, and I'd let her pretend it was for my sake, not hers.

Now, instead of looking for scraped-up limbs, I look at her eyes. I try and judge how much weight they're holding. I attempt to measure the dark circles underneath as if they were rings on a tree stump, as if age and sleepless nights could be measured in the same way.

Nadia's hair is back to its original black color and rests just above her jaw in a straight, sharp line. She's gained some weight back, which I'm relieved to notice, but not enough. She was way, way too thin for a while there. She joked that she was too busy to eat all the while finding the time to smoke her way through a pack of cigarettes a day.

I'm not judging-all three of us siblings have our vices, our own unhealthy way of surviving our f***ed-up childhood-I just hated seeing her look weak when she is far, far from it.

So maybe it's her hair, or the extra few pounds she's gained back, or the fewer rings under her eyes, or the less jittery way that she stands on the curb allowing me the chance to look her over-but she does look older. It settles me and somehow makes me uneasy at the same time. She's doing better, but I didn't know that until now. And when was the last time I had asked my little sister how life was treating her?

I need to be better at asking.

\\\"You look great, зайка.\\\" Зайка, or bunny in Russian, is what Nik, our older brother, started calling Nadia from birth. She had these huge, chubby cheeks as a baby that reminded him of his favorite animal at the time; the ones he'd sneak food to that lived under my parents' barn. \\\"You just look different, that's all.\\\"

\\\"Well . . . You were gone a long time. Again,\\\" she replies, quirking an arched brow.

I unbuckle the seatbelt, but don't turn off the engine before getting out of the driver's seat. Truthfully, I don't know if I could get Bertha to start back up again and there's no way I could afford to get a tow truck.

\\\"Get over here,\\\" I request, opening my arms wide for her as I approach. Nadia, stiff as a board, welcomes my hug in a literal sense by stepping toward me, but keeps her arms firmly at her sides. \\\"I missed you,\\\" I say over the top of her head. She mumbles something that sounds like uh-huh into my chest. I squeeze tighter before releasing her.

I reach toward the ground for one of her oversized khaki duffel bags. \\\"What's in here?\\\" I say, throwing it over my shoulder before reaching for the other one. \\\"This has to be at least fifty pounds.\\\" I pick up the second bag. \\\"Each!\\\"

\\\"That, dear brother, is everything I own. Minus the lamp that came with my apartment, which is somehow controlled by the upstairs tenant. Or, at least, I hope that's who is turning it on and off all day.\\\"

I walk toward the back of the van, and she follows closely. \\\"Toronto sounds . . . fun.\\\"

\\\"For sure.\\\" I catch her smiling softly at the back doors of the van as I struggle to open the right rear door. Much like my own skin, Bertha's outer shell is covered in memories, mistakes, and inspirational scribblings. \\\"I see you're still collecting these . . .\\\" She taps on a bumper sticker, one of many, then underlines the words with her finger. \\\"My other ride is your mother,\\\" she reads, firing an entirely unconvincing disapproving stare my way. \\\"Real classy.\\\"

I smile widely at her in response, flashing all my teeth as I manage to pry open the door with a grunt of effort. \\\"I have the father version of that one too,\\\" I say, gesturing to the hundreds of other stickers decorating the entire surface of the doors. I toss her bags into the hollow back of the van, alongside my own luggage. \\\"I believe in equality, after all.\\\"

\\\"Do you? Or are you simply an equal opportunist?\\\" she asks, smirking.

My bisexuality is no secret to either of my siblings and, as much as they like to tease me about it, they've been nothing but supportive. Not that they'd have a choice to be anything but. I have no place in my life for bullshit from anyone, family or not, and they know that. \\\"Can't it be both?\\\" I ask, shutting the door by throwing my shoulder against it.

She nods, grinning mischievously as she pulls out her phone from her pocket and snaps a photo of Bertha's rear. \\\"So . . .\\\" I lean my shoulder against the door and run one hand through my hair, pushing it to one side as a gust of wind tries to blow it back. \\\"What do you make of all this?\\\" I gesture broadly in what may or may not be the direction of Baysville, my brother's new home. \\\"A bit dramatic, don't ya think?\\\"

Nadia's lips pout as she considers my question, then she looks up at me with those deep brown eyes that all of us siblings have. \\\"You mean Nik using his one-one-nine?\\\"

We coined the term one-one-nine over twenty years ago. Whereas a code nine-one-one meant an emergency that we, unfortunately, had no choice but to involve our parents in, a one-one-nine could and should remain between us siblings.

Nik graciously granted us all two one-one-nine uses per year in childhood. But the rule was that we'd only have one after the age of eighteen to use in perpetuity. That goes for all of us. We have one Get Out of Jail Free card. One Hail Mary. One help-me-bury-the-body-and-don't-ask-questions. Then, you're on your own.

\\\"Yeah,\\\" I answer. \\\"It feels a bit extreme; don't you think? He's dreamed of opening his brewery for years and we've never been a part of that plan. What could possibly constitute an emergency?\\\"

\\\"He never specified it had to be used in an emergency. . . . And, if I recall correctly, you used yours to make me catch a mouse for you when we were backpacking in Costa Rica.\\\" She leans her hip up against the van and digs around in her oversized tote for what I hope is not a cigarette. \\\"So, maybe let's not be so quick to judge.\\\"\"},{\"id\":\"116881373T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"One

Milo

“Please, Bertha, baby, I am begging you,” I say, tightening my hands around the shuddering steering wheel. There’s not another living soul in sight. No one to witness our inevitable crash and burn if Bertha decides to call it quits and send us rolling backward down the hill. On this Muskoka backroad it’s just me, Bertha, the black tar pavement under us, the gray storm clouds above us, the granite outcropping bordering either side of the road, and, as always, the bobblehead Jesus on my dash.

“I swear to everything good and holy that if you make it over this hill, I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She sputters, and I grit my teeth waiting for the backward roll. “If we make it to town,” I plead, each syllable equal parts pathetic and desperate, “I’ll fill you up with premium fuel and let you rest for a week.” The tires jolt, forcing my hands on the wheel to fight for control. “Okay, okay! Two weeks. I promise.”

My beloved van’s speedometer is broken, as is most of her, but the temperature gauge isn’t, unfortunately. The needle is fluctuating between you’re beyond f***ed and are you on fire yet?

“C’mon, old girl, don’t quit on me now. Not yet. Don’t you want to go home again?” Though I cannot help but think that my death would probably save me from this familial obligation. Maybe Bertha is taking care of me, just as she has for the past decade, and death is the lesser of these two evils.

The sound of metal grinding against metal, an irritating high-pitched squealing, is her answer. Then, the choking of an engine, like the mechanical equivalent of a smoker’s cough, which is never a good sign. I prepare my final words, taking a deep breath as the car slows to a stop a few feet shy of the top of the hill.

Well, this is it, I think to myself. I wonder what my obituary will read, if anyone bothers to write one. If it was up to me it would say: Milo Kablukov, 28, was a nomadic slut, childhood sheep farmer, and wannabe artist with a heart of gold and a penis that launched a thousand ships.

Just as I’m about to say my final goodbyes to this mortal plane, Bertha kicks back to life, taking us over the edge of the hilltop and onto flattened road. I open my eyes, having closed them while bracing for disaster.

“Whew, baby!” I shake my limbs free of tension as I adjust position in my seat and toss back my hair. “You little tease,” I say, petting the dashboard. I make a turn onto a backroad toward the train station with a flat palm on the wheel and slow my speed to give Bertha a rest. “You really had my heart racing that time, gorgeous,” I tell her, releasing the last of my tension in a languid breath.

Other than my younger sister, Nadia, Bertha has been the only consistent woman in my life since I got the f*** out of my hometown of Dorset, Ontario, the day after my eighteenth birthday. The town slogan, if it were up to me, would be: Dorset: Where the sheep outnumber the people.

I won’t be returning there any time soon. My brother, my summoner, has set up home a few towns over. Somewhere just as boring, no doubt, but far enough away from Sonia and Andrei Kablukov—good old Mom and Pop—that my brother would even dare to ask Nadia and me to come to his rescue.

I pull up in front of the small white building that is technically a train station but looks more like an old cottage. “There she is!” I shout as I wheel the passenger window all the way down. “Nadia motherf***in’ Kablukov in the flesh!”

My sister, who perpetually chews gum on one side of her mouth, smirks as she rolls her eyes. “You’re late.” She leans into the window, tapping the inside of the passenger door. “Hi, Bertha baby, you’re looking as shitty as ever.”

“You look older again,” I point out, scowling at her. “You should really stop doing that.”

“Aging?” she clarifies.

I nod.

“Charming . . .” She assesses me, or at least what she can see of me from the window, with a curious, wry grin.

I look her over too, in the habitual, almost subconscious way I always have. Searching for the scrapes, burns, and bruises, and hoping to find none. Nadia has always been equal parts stubborn and prideful, discontent to be the youngest of us three siblings. Which meant she got hurt trying to do things above her paygrade a lot.

At four, she tried to make her own breakfast, and I helped ice the burn from her run-in with the frying pan. At nine, she climbed up to the roof to fix the TV antenna, and I fixed the eaves trough she broke on her way down and bandaged up her ankle. At twelve, she tried to teach herself to drive Dad’s tractor, and I mended the broken fence and her hand from the splinter she’d gotten trying to repair it herself. Then, there were all the many nights that she’d sneak into my room when Mom and Dad were screaming at each other, and I’d let her pretend it was for my sake, not hers.

Now, instead of looking for scraped-up limbs, I look at her eyes. I try and judge how much weight they’re holding. I attempt to measure the dark circles underneath as if they were rings on a tree stump, as if age and sleepless nights could be measured in the same way.

Nadia’s hair is back to its original black color and rests just above her jaw in a straight, sharp line. She’s gained some weight back, which I’m relieved to notice, but not enough. She was way, way too thin for a while there. She joked that she was too busy to eat all the while finding the time to smoke her way through a pack of cigarettes a day.

I’m not judging—all three of us siblings have our vices, our own unhealthy way of surviving our f***ed-up childhood—I just hated seeing her look weak when she is far, far from it.

So maybe it’s her hair, or the extra few pounds she’s gained back, or the fewer rings under her eyes, or the less jittery way that she stands on the curb allowing me the chance to look her over—but she does look older. It settles me and somehow makes me uneasy at the same time. She’s doing better, but I didn’t know that until now. And when was the last time I had asked my little sister how life was treating her?

I need to be better at asking.

“You look great, зайка.” Зайка, or bunny in Russian, is what Nik, our older brother, started calling Nadia from birth. She had these huge, chubby cheeks as a baby that reminded him of his favorite animal at the time; the ones he’d sneak food to that lived under my parents’ barn. “You just look different, that’s all.”

“Well . . . You were gone a long time. Again,” she replies, quirking an arched brow.

I unbuckle the seatbelt, but don’t turn off the engine before getting out of the driver’s seat. Truthfully, I don’t know if I could get Bertha to start back up again and there’s no way I could afford to get a tow truck.

“Get over here,” I request, opening my arms wide for her as I approach. Nadia, stiff as a board, welcomes my hug in a literal sense by stepping toward me, but keeps her arms firmly at her sides. “I missed you,” I say over the top of her head. She mumbles something that sounds like uh-huh into my chest. I squeeze tighter before releasing her.

I reach toward the ground for one of her oversized khaki duffel bags. “What’s in here?” I say, throwing it over my shoulder before reaching for the other one. “This has to be at least fifty pounds.” I pick up the second bag. “Each!”

“That, dear brother, is everything I own. Minus the lamp that came with my apartment, which is somehow controlled by the upstairs tenant. Or, at least, I hope that’s who is turning it on and off all day.”

I walk toward the back of the van, and she follows closely. “Toronto sounds . . . fun.”

“For sure.” I catch her smiling softly at the back doors of the van as I struggle to open the right rear door. Much like my own skin, Bertha’s outer shell is covered in memories, mistakes, and inspirational scribblings. “I see you’re still collecting these . . .” She taps on a bumper sticker, one of many, then underlines the words with her finger. “My other ride is your mother,” she reads, firing an entirely unconvincing disapproving stare my way. “Real classy.”

I smile widely at her in response, flashing all my teeth as I manage to pry open the door with a grunt of effort. “I have the father version of that one too,” I say, gesturing to the hundreds of other stickers decorating the entire surface of the doors. I toss her bags into the hollow back of the van, alongside my own luggage. “I believe in equality, after all.”

“Do you? Or are you simply an equal opportunist?” she asks, smirking.

My bisexuality is no secret to either of my siblings and, as much as they like to tease me about it, they’ve been nothing but supportive. Not that they’d have a choice to be anything but. I have no place in my life for bullshit from anyone, family or not, and they know that. “Can’t it be both?” I ask, shutting the door by throwing my shoulder against it.

She nods, grinning mischievously as she pulls out her phone from her pocket and snaps a photo of Bertha’s rear. “So . . .” I lean my shoulder against the door and run one hand through my hair, pushing it to one side as a gust of wind tries to blow it back. “What do you make of all this?” I gesture broadly in what may or may not be the direction of Baysville, my brother’s new home. “A bit dramatic, don’t ya think?”

Nadia’s lips pout as she considers my question, then she looks up at me with those deep brown eyes that all of us siblings have. “You mean Nik using his one-one-nine?”

We coined the term one-one-nine over twenty years ago. Whereas a code nine-one-one meant an emergency that we, unfortunately, had no choice but to involve our parents in, a one-one-nine could and should remain between us siblings.

Nik graciously granted us all two one-one-nine uses per year in childhood. But the rule was that we’d only have one after the age of eighteen to use in perpetuity. That goes for all of us. We have one Get Out of Jail Free card. One Hail Mary. One help-me-bury-the-body-and-don’t-ask-questions. Then, you’re on your own.

“Yeah,” I answer. “It feels a bit extreme; don’t you think? He’s dreamed of opening his brewery for years and we’ve never been a part of that plan. What could possibly constitute an emergency?”

“He never specified it had to be used in an emergency. . . . And, if I recall correctly, you used yours to make me catch a mouse for you when we were backpacking in Costa Rica.” She leans her hip up against the van and digs around in her oversized tote for what I hope is not a cigarette. “So, maybe let’s not be so quick to judge.”\"},{\"id\":\"127114456T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"One

Milo

“Please, Bertha, baby, I am begging you,” I say, tightening my hands around the shuddering steering wheel. There’s not another living soul in sight. No one to witness our inevitable crash and burn if Bertha decides to call it quits and send us rolling backward down the hill. On this Muskoka backroad it’s just me, Bertha, the black tar pavement under us, the gray storm clouds above us, the granite outcropping bordering either side of the road, and, as always, the bobblehead Jesus on my dash.

“I swear to everything good and holy that if you make it over this hill, I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She sputters, and I grit my teeth waiting for the backward roll. “If we make it to town,” I plead, each syllable equal parts pathetic and desperate, “I’ll fill you up with premium fuel and let you rest for a week.” The tires jolt, forcing my hands on the wheel to fight for control. “Okay, okay! Two weeks. I promise.”

My beloved van’s speedometer is broken, as is most of her, but the temperature gauge isn’t, unfortunately. The needle is fluctuating between you’re beyond f***ed and are you on fire yet?

“C’mon, old girl, don’t quit on me now. Not yet. Don’t you want to go home again?” Though I cannot help but think that my death would probably save me from this familial obligation. Maybe Bertha is taking care of me, just as she has for the past decade, and death is the lesser of these two evils.

The sound of metal grinding against metal, an irritating high-pitched squealing, is her answer. Then, the choking of an engine, like the mechanical equivalent of a smoker’s cough, which is never a good sign. I prepare my final words, taking a deep breath as the car slows to a stop a few feet shy of the top of the hill.

Well, this is it, I think to myself. I wonder what my obituary will read, if anyone bothers to write one. If it was up to me it would say: Milo Kablukov, 28, was a nomadic slut, childhood sheep farmer, and wannabe artist with a heart of gold and a penis that launched a thousand ships.

Just as I’m about to say my final goodbyes to this mortal plane, Bertha kicks back to life, taking us over the edge of the hilltop and onto flattened road. I open my eyes, having closed them while bracing for disaster.

“Whew, baby!” I shake my limbs free of tension as I adjust position in my seat and toss back my hair. “You little tease,” I say, petting the dashboard. I make a turn onto a backroad toward the train station with a flat palm on the wheel and slow my speed to give Bertha a rest. “You really had my heart racing that time, gorgeous,” I tell her, releasing the last of my tension in a languid breath.

Other than my younger sister, Nadia, Bertha has been the only consistent woman in my life since I got the f*** out of my hometown of Dorset, Ontario, the day after my eighteenth birthday. The town slogan, if it were up to me, would be: Dorset: Where the sheep outnumber the people.

I won’t be returning there any time soon. My brother, my summoner, has set up home a few towns over. Somewhere just as boring, no doubt, but far enough away from Sonia and Andrei Kablukov—good old Mom and Pop—that my brother would even dare to ask Nadia and me to come to his rescue.

I pull up in front of the small white building that is technically a train station but looks more like an old cottage. “There she is!” I shout as I wheel the passenger window all the way down. “Nadia motherf***in’ Kablukov in the flesh!”

My sister, who perpetually chews gum on one side of her mouth, smirks as she rolls her eyes. “You’re late.” She leans into the window, tapping the inside of the passenger door. “Hi, Bertha baby, you’re looking as shitty as ever.”

“You look older again,” I point out, scowling at her. “You should really stop doing that.”

“Aging?” she clarifies.

I nod.

“Charming . . .” She assesses me, or at least what she can see of me from the window, with a curious, wry grin.

I look her over too, in the habitual, almost subconscious way I always have. Searching for the scrapes, burns, and bruises, and hoping to find none. Nadia has always been equal parts stubborn and prideful, discontent to be the youngest of us three siblings. Which meant she got hurt trying to do things above her paygrade a lot.

At four, she tried to make her own breakfast, and I helped ice the burn from her run-in with the frying pan. At nine, she climbed up to the roof to fix the TV antenna, and I fixed the eaves trough she broke on her way down and bandaged up her ankle. At twelve, she tried to teach herself to drive Dad’s tractor, and I mended the broken fence and her hand from the splinter she’d gotten trying to repair it herself. Then, there were all the many nights that she’d sneak into my room when Mom and Dad were screaming at each other, and I’d let her pretend it was for my sake, not hers.

Now, instead of looking for scraped-up limbs, I look at her eyes. I try and judge how much weight they’re holding. I attempt to measure the dark circles underneath as if they were rings on a tree stump, as if age and sleepless nights could be measured in the same way.

Nadia’s hair is back to its original black color and rests just above her jaw in a straight, sharp line. She’s gained some weight back, which I’m relieved to notice, but not enough. She was way, way too thin for a while there. She joked that she was too busy to eat all the while finding the time to smoke her way through a pack of cigarettes a day.

I’m not judging—all three of us siblings have our vices, our own unhealthy way of surviving our f***ed-up childhood—I just hated seeing her look weak when she is far, far from it.

So maybe it’s her hair, or the extra few pounds she’s gained back, or the fewer rings under her eyes, or the less jittery way that she stands on the curb allowing me the chance to look her over—but she does look older. It settles me and somehow makes me uneasy at the same time. She’s doing better, but I didn’t know that until now. And when was the last time I had asked my little sister how life was treating her?

I need to be better at asking.

“You look great, зайка.” Зайка, or bunny in Russian, is what Nik, our older brother, started calling Nadia from birth. She had these huge, chubby cheeks as a baby that reminded him of his favorite animal at the time; the ones he’d sneak food to that lived under my parents’ barn. “You just look different, that’s all.”

“Well . . . You were gone a long time. Again,” she replies, quirking an arched brow.

I unbuckle the seatbelt, but don’t turn off the engine before getting out of the driver’s seat. Truthfully, I don’t know if I could get Bertha to start back up again and there’s no way I could afford to get a tow truck.

“Get over here,” I request, opening my arms wide for her as I approach. Nadia, stiff as a board, welcomes my hug in a literal sense by stepping toward me, but keeps her arms firmly at her sides. “I missed you,” I say over the top of her head. She mumbles something that sounds like uh-huh into my chest. I squeeze tighter before releasing her.

I reach toward the ground for one of her oversized khaki duffel bags. “What’s in here?” I say, throwing it over my shoulder before reaching for the other one. “This has to be at least fifty pounds.” I pick up the second bag. “Each!”

“That, dear brother, is everything I own. Minus the lamp that came with my apartment, which is somehow controlled by the upstairs tenant. Or, at least, I hope that’s who is turning it on and off all day.”

I walk toward the back of the van, and she follows closely. “Toronto sounds . . . fun.”

“For sure.” I catch her smiling softly at the back doors of the van as I struggle to open the right rear door. Much like my own skin, Bertha’s outer shell is covered in memories, mistakes, and inspirational scribblings. “I see you’re still collecting these . . .” She taps on a bumper sticker, one of many, then underlines the words with her finger. “My other ride is your mother,” she reads, firing an entirely unconvincing disapproving stare my way. “Real classy.”

I smile widely at her in response, flashing all my teeth as I manage to pry open the door with a grunt of effort. “I have the father version of that one too,” I say, gesturing to the hundreds of other stickers decorating the entire surface of the doors. I toss her bags into the hollow back of the van, alongside my own luggage. “I believe in equality, after all.”

“Do you? Or are you simply an equal opportunist?” she asks, smirking.

My bisexuality is no secret to either of my siblings and, as much as they like to tease me about it, they’ve been nothing but supportive. Not that they’d have a choice to be anything but. I have no place in my life for bullshit from anyone, family or not, and they know that. “Can’t it be both?” I ask, shutting the door by throwing my shoulder against it.

She nods, grinning mischievously as she pulls out her phone from her pocket and snaps a photo of Bertha’s rear. “So . . .” I lean my shoulder against the door and run one hand through my hair, pushing it to one side as a gust of wind tries to blow it back. “What do you make of all this?” I gesture broadly in what may or may not be the direction of Baysville, my brother’s new home. “A bit dramatic, don’t ya think?”

Nadia’s lips pout as she considers my question, then she looks up at me with those deep brown eyes that all of us siblings have. “You mean Nik using his one-one-nine?”

We coined the term one-one-nine over twenty years ago. Whereas a code nine-one-one meant an emergency that we, unfortunately, had no choice but to involve our parents in, a one-one-nine could and should remain between us siblings.

Nik graciously granted us all two one-one-nine uses per year in childhood. But the rule was that we’d only have one after the age of eighteen to use in perpetuity. That goes for all of us. We have one Get Out of Jail Free card. One Hail Mary. One help-me-bury-the-body-and-don’t-ask-questions. Then, you’re on your own.

“Yeah,” I answer. “It feels a bit extreme; don’t you think? He’s dreamed of opening his brewery for years and we’ve never been a part of that plan. What could possibly constitute an emergency?”

“He never specified it had to be used in an emergency. . . . And, if I recall correctly, you used yours to make me catch a mouse for you when we were backpacking in Costa Rica.” She leans her hip up against the van and digs around in her oversized tote for what I hope is not a cigarette. “So, maybe let’s not be so quick to judge.”\"},{\"id\":\"127114445T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"I blew through this! Bonam-Young blends gritty reality, family, and passion to create a powerful story about acceptance and the power of opening up to love. I loved this!\\\"-Abby Jimenez, #1 New York Times bestselling author

\\\"You feel her passion on every page, and the result is a novel that brims with heart, heat, and real emotion-a warm hug and a passionate kiss all in one.\\\"-#1 New York Times bestselling author Carley Fortune

\\\"Bonam-Young has done it again with this deeply emotional story about love, family, and what it really means to grow.\\\"-New York Times bestselling author Talia Hibbert

\\\"A book that you'll be longing to savor but helpless to devour...an absolute triumph.\\\"-Lyla Sage, New York Times bestselling author of Lost and Lassoed

\\\"A celebration of love in all its forms! I adored every second of this read!\\\"-Naina Kumar, USA Today bestselling author of Flirting with Disaster

\\\"People Watching is the epitome of satisfyingly emotional, real, steamy romance-Milo and Prue's journey tugged at my heartstrings in its loving portrayal of hard-won growth, trust, and healing.\\\"-USA Today bestselling author Chloe Liese

\\\"The delicious initial push-and-pull between Milo and Prue gives way to touching connection as the characters navigate what it means to truly show up for one another. These two had me kicking my feet and giggling from the first moment they're on-page together.\\\"-Ivy Fairbank, author of Morbidly Yours

\\\"A memorable and satisfying romance, full of sexy and sensitive moments.\\\"-Library Journal, starred review

\\\"Bonam-Young builds great chemistry between her leads, and the familial subplots-especially the tender scenes between Milo and his estranged siblings-add heart. This is a keeper.\\\"-Publishers Weekly\"},{\"id\":\"127114459T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Prudence is happy with her quiet small-town life — until the adventurous Milo chaotically wanders into her hometown, determined to shake things up. Soon, Prudence learns that opening up to love might not be the worst thing in the world in this charming romcom.

\"},{\"id\":\"115276262T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

\"},{\"id\":\"127114463T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Hannah Bonam-Young is the author of Next of Kin, Next to You, and Out on a Limb. Hannah writes romances featuring a cast of diverse, disabled, marginalized, and LGBTQIA+ folks wherein swoon-worthy storylines blend with the beautiful, messy, and challenging realities of life. When not reading or writing romance you can find her having living room dance parties with her kids or planning any occasion that warrants a cheese board. Originally from Ontario, Canada, she lives with her childhood friend turned husband, Ben, two kids, and bulldog near Niagara Falls on the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples.

\"},{\"id\":\"127114466T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Hannah Bonam-Young is the author of Next of Kin, Next to You, and Out on a Limb. Hannah writes romances featuring a cast of diverse, disabled, marginalized, and LGBTQIA+ folks wherein swoon-worthy storylines blend with the beautiful, messy, and challenging realities of life. When not reading or writing romance you can find her having living room dance parties with her kids or planning any occasion that warrants a cheese board. Originally from Ontario, Canada, she lives with her childhood friend turned husband, Ben, two kids, and bulldog near Niagara Falls on the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples.\"},{\"id\":\"127114464T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Hannah Bonam-Young is the author of Next of Kin, Next to You, and Out on a Limb. Hannah writes romances featuring a cast of diverse, disabled, marginalized, and LGBTQIA+ folks wherein swoon-worthy storylines blend with the beautiful, messy, and challenging realities of life. When not reading or writing romance you can find her having living room dance parties with her kids or planning any occasion that warrants a cheese board. Originally from Ontario, Canada, she lives with her childhood friend turned husband, Ben, two kids, and bulldog near Niagara Falls on the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples.\"},{\"id\":\"127114462T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Hannah Bonam-Young is the author of Next of Kin, Next to You, and Out on a Limb. Hannah writes romances featuring a cast of diverse, disabled, marginalized, and LGBTQIA+ folks wherein swoon-worthy storylines blend with the beautiful, messy, and challenging realities of life. When not reading or writing romance you can find her having living room dance parties with her kids or planning any occasion that warrants a cheese board. Originally from Ontario, Canada, she lives with her childhood friend turned husband, Ben, two kids, and bulldog near Niagara Falls on the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples.\"}]",{"_41":3063,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3064},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879731638513","People-Watching/Hannah-Bonam-Young",{"_41":3066,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3067},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879727182065","1150229157",{"_41":3069,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879728886001",{"_41":3071,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":3046},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61708974620913",{"_41":3073,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3022},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879725117681",{"_41":3075,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40879730819313",{"_41":3077,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2074},"gid://shopify/Metafield/84996106846449",{"_41":3079,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":3080},"gid://shopify/Metafield/79078072877297","29",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3082,"_71":3083,"_1905":1906,"_825":3084,"_1908":3085,"_1910":3086,"_1912":3087,"_1919":3091,"_1927":59,"_1928":3094,"_1934":3097,"_1955":-5,"_1956":3106,"_1958":3107,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3108},"gid://shopify/Product/8849882972401","Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice (A Cup o' Jo Novel)","9781339030753","NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER!Gilmore Girls fans! Pour yourselves a hot cup of tea and get ready to fall in love with this cozy YA romance that will have you dreaming of autumn all year long.Fall is a big deal in Briar Glen, a quaint and charming village in New England. That's when tourists from all over the country descend upon this picturesque town to see the babbling brooks and colorful leaves while sipping hot chocolate or pumpkin spice lattes.But sixteen-year-old Lucy Kane hates the uber-popular PSL. She finds it overrated -- especially when you consider the fact that there isn't even pumpkin in it! -- which is bad because she works at Cup o' Jo, the local coffee shop her mom owns. Business at Cup o' Jo hasn't been great in the off-season, but that's okay because it always picks up during the fall ...Until Java Junction, a multinational coffee chain, opens across the street and makes things harder for the small shop. And to make matters worse, it turns out Jack Harper, the new kid in school and Lucy's secret crush, is the son of the owner. Suddenly, fall doesn't seem like it'll be all it's cracked up to be. Will Lucy find a way to save her mom's coffee shop?","

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER!

Gilmore Girls fans! Pour yourselves a hot cup of tea and get ready to fall in love with this cozy YA romance that will have you dreaming of autumn all year long.

Fall is a big deal in Briar Glen, a quaint and charming village in New England. That's when tourists from all over the country descend upon this picturesque town to see the babbling brooks and colorful leaves while sipping hot chocolate or pumpkin spice lattes.

But sixteen-year-old Lucy Kane hates the uber-popular PSL. She finds it overrated -- especially when you consider the fact that there isn't even pumpkin in it! -- which is bad because she works at Cup o' Jo, the local coffee shop her mom owns. Business at Cup o' Jo hasn't been great in the off-season, but that's okay because it always picks up during the fall ...

Until Java Junction, a multinational coffee chain, opens across the street and makes things harder for the small shop. And to make matters worse, it turns out Jack Harper, the new kid in school and Lucy's secret crush, is the son of the owner. Suddenly, fall doesn't seem like it'll be all it's cracked up to be. Will Lucy find a way to save her mom's coffee shop?

",{"_41":3088,"_54":3089,"_56":3090,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47623694516465","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781339030753_p0.jpg?v=1768986166",1312,{"_1921":3092},{"_1923":3093,"_1925":1926},"10.99",{"_1921":3095,"_1932":3096},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":1931,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3098},[3099],{"_41":3100,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":-5,"_705":3101,"_1943":3102,"_1945":3103,"_1947":3104,"_1953":3084,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46248101544177",{"_41":3088,"_54":3089,"_1918":-5,"_56":3090,"_50":1917},{"_1923":3093,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3083,"_825":3084},[3105],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":3084},{"_1951":1906},[3109,-5,-5,3112,3114,-5,3116,3118,3121,3124,3127,-5,-5,3129,-5,3131,3133,3136],{"_41":3110,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3111},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816544256241","[{\"contributorId\":19830005,\"fullName\":\"Katie Cicatelli-Kuc\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3113,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816544780529",{"_41":3115,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":1906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816543928561",{"_41":3117,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":1985},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816544878833",{"_41":3119,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3120},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816545861873","[{\"id\":\"124407786T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Rival coffee shops and autumnal flavors galore. Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice is a cup of sugary sweet romance and small-town charm that will make you hit rewind on all your favorite rom-coms.

\"},{\"id\":\"105631440T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Rival coffee shops and autumnal flavors galore. Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice is a cup of sugary sweet romance and small-town charm that will make you hit rewind on all your favorite rom-coms.

\"},{\"id\":\"124407790T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Katie Cicatelli-Kuc spent a decade working as an in-house copy editor for major publishing houses before becoming a full-time freelancer and mom. She lives in Beacon, New York.

\"},{\"id\":\"115457975T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

Katie Cicatelli-Kuc spent a decade working as an in-house copy editor for major publishing houses before becoming a full-time freelancer and mom. She lives in Beacon, New York.

\"},{\"id\":\"124407789T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Katie Cicatelli-Kuc spent a decade working as an in-house copy editor for major publishing houses before becoming a full-time freelancer and mom. She lives in Beacon, New York.\"},{\"id\":\"124407787T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Katie Cicatelli-Kuc spent a decade working as an in-house copy editor for major publishing houses before becoming a full-time freelancer and mom. She lives in Beacon, New York.\"}]",{"_41":3122,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3123},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816545665265","Pumpkin-Spice-Everything-Nice/Katie-Cicatelli-Kuc",{"_41":3125,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3126},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816543109361","1144418634",{"_41":3128,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816544682225",{"_41":3130,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3084},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816538718449",{"_41":3132,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39816544977137",{"_41":3134,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":3135},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60043427053809","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.2\"}",{"_41":3137,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":3138},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60043427021041","49",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3140,"_71":3141,"_1905":1906,"_825":3142,"_1908":3143,"_1910":3144,"_1912":3145,"_1919":3149,"_1927":59,"_1928":3151,"_1934":3154,"_1955":3164,"_1956":3166,"_1958":3167,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3168},"gid://shopify/Product/8830336336113","The Pumpkin Spice Café (Dream Harbor, Book 1)","9780008610678","The first book in the viral Dream Harbor series by #1 New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author Laurie Gilmore! When Jeanie’s aunt gifts her the beloved Pumpkin Spice Café in the small town of Dream Harbor, Jeanie jumps at the chance for a fresh start away from her very dull desk job. Logan is a local farmer who avoids Dream Harbor’s gossip at all costs. But Jeanie’s arrival disrupts Logan’s routine and he wants nothing to do with the irritatingly upbeat new girl, except that he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. Will Jeanie’s happy-go-lucky attitude win over the grumpy-but-gorgeous Logan, or has this city girl found the one person in town who won’t fall for her charm, or her pumpkin spice lattes… The Pumpkin Spice Café is a cozy spicy romance novel with a grumpy x sunshine dynamic, a small-town setting and a HEA guaranteed! Tropes: Grumpy x Sunshine Small town Found family Spicy The Dream Harbor Series The Cinnamon Bun Bookstore The Christmas Tree Farm The Strawberry Patch Pancake House The Gingerbread Bakery The Daisy Chain Flower Shop The Apple Pie Ice Cream Parlor (A Dream Harbor Novella – pre-order now) TikTok Made Me Buy It – Winner of the TikTok Shop Book of the Year 2024, Sunday Times and USA Today bestseller. As seen on Good Morning America! Readers have fallen for Dream Harbor, will you? 'AHHHHH I loved this so much!!!! It's like Gilmore Girls x Hallmark movie x romcom goodness all wrapped up into one delicious novel. The fall vibes in this book were IMMACULATE… I want to live in Dream Harbor' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'This is everything I love! Cozy small town romance, fall vibes, coffee house vibes, and grumpy x sunshine trope that was done perfectly!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Wonderful story with tears, laughter, mysteries, uncertainty and happiness’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Compelling, cozy and delightful narrative’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘A charming small town romance with sizzling chemistry and plenty of spice’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘I LOVED THIS SO BAD. The vibes of the small town were immaculate, the cast of people around Jeanie and Logan amazing, the story soooo heartwarming’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'Ooohh I adored this! Fall setting, small town, coffee shop, grumpy sunshine!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'This book makes my heart happy!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'As a lover of fall and small town romance, this book was the perfect kind of romance for me’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'This was a gorgeous cinnamon spiced huge mug of psl and cozy jumpers and autumn leaves sort of a book’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Gives off the same level of endorphins as taking a sip of an actual pumpkin spice latte… all the makings of a top tier Hallmark movie that happens to include a nice dash of spice’—People ‘With a name this cute and a cover this autumnal, how could I not cozy up with my blanket and relax with this adoring book?’—New York Post","

The first book in the viral Dream Harbor series by #1 New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author Laurie Gilmore!

When Jeanie’s aunt gifts her the beloved Pumpkin Spice Café in the small town of Dream Harbor, Jeanie jumps at the chance for a fresh start away from her very dull desk job.

Logan is a local farmer who avoids Dream Harbor’s gossip at all costs. But Jeanie’s arrival disrupts Logan’s routine and he wants nothing to do with the irritatingly upbeat new girl, except that he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her.

Will Jeanie’s happy-go-lucky attitude win over the grumpy-but-gorgeous Logan, or has this city girl found the one person in town who won’t fall for her charm, or her pumpkin spice lattes…

The Pumpkin Spice Café is a cozy spicy romance novel with a grumpy x sunshine dynamic, a small-town setting and a HEA guaranteed!

Tropes:

Grumpy x Sunshine

Small town

Found family

Spicy

The Dream Harbor Series

The Cinnamon Bun Bookstore

The Christmas Tree Farm

The Strawberry Patch Pancake House

The Gingerbread Bakery

The Daisy Chain Flower Shop

The Apple Pie Ice Cream Parlor (A Dream Harbor Novella – pre-order now)

TikTok Made Me Buy It – Winner of the TikTok Shop Book of the Year 2024, Sunday Times and USA Today bestseller. As seen on Good Morning America!

Readers have fallen for Dream Harbor, will you?

'AHHHHH I loved this so much!!!! It's like Gilmore Girls x Hallmark movie x romcom goodness all wrapped up into one delicious novel. The fall vibes in this book were IMMACULATE… I want to live in Dream Harbor' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'This is everything I love! Cozy small town romance, fall vibes, coffee house vibes, and grumpy x sunshine trope that was done perfectly!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Wonderful story with tears, laughter, mysteries, uncertainty and happiness’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Compelling, cozy and delightful narrative’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘A charming small town romance with sizzling chemistry and plenty of spice’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I LOVED THIS SO BAD. The vibes of the small town were immaculate, the cast of people around Jeanie and Logan amazing, the story soooo heartwarming’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'Ooohh I adored this! Fall setting, small town, coffee shop, grumpy sunshine!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'This book makes my heart happy!’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'As a lover of fall and small town romance, this book was the perfect kind of romance for me’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'This was a gorgeous cinnamon spiced huge mug of psl and cozy jumpers and autumn leaves sort of a book’ ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Gives off the same level of endorphins as taking a sip of an actual pumpkin spice latte… all the makings of a top tier Hallmark movie that happens to include a nice dash of spice’—People

‘With a name this cute and a cover this autumnal, how could I not cozy up with my blanket and relax with this adoring book?’—New York Post

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PRAISE FOR THE PUMPKIN SPICE CAFE:

‘With a name this cute and a cover this autumnal, how could I not cozy up with my blanket and relax with this adoring book?’—New York Post

‘Witty and fun… set in a small town an entertaining enemies-to-lovers read that gives all the feels’ Reader review

‘I truly adored the setting, this adorable little town where I'd move in a heartbeat, and Jeanie and Logan were absolutely fantastic’ Reader review

‘Fall is my favorite season and this book totally captured that perfectly’ Reader review

‘This book is what happens when you turn a pumpkin spice latte into a story… perfect for fans of Hallmark movies’—People

\"},{\"id\":\"107655071T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

A romcom even more satisfying than the crunch of a crisp fall leaf, this is a swoony love story that’s guaranteed to keep you warm.

\"},{\"id\":\"111535666T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

A romcom even more satisfying than the crunch of a crisp fall leaf, this is a swoony love story that’s guaranteed to keep you warm.

\"},{\"id\":\"118442377T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Laurie Gilmore is a #1 New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author who writes small-town romance. Her first novel, The Pumpkin Spice Cafe, won the TikTok Shop Book of the Year award in 2024. Her Dream Harbor series is filled with quirky townsfolk, cozy settings, and swoon-worthy romance. She loves finding books with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice and strives for that in her own writing. Laurie is currently based in upstate New York.

\"},{\"id\":\"91416409T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Laurie Gilmore is a #1 New York Times and Sunday Times bestselling author who writes small-town romance. Her first novel, The Pumpkin Spice Cafe, won the TikTok Shop Book of the Year award in 2024. Her Dream Harbor series is filled with quirky townsfolk, cozy settings, and swoon-worthy romance. She loves finding books with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice and strives for that in her own writing. Laurie is currently based in upstate New York.

\"},{\"id\":\"97593382T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Laurie Gilmore writes small-town romance. Her Dream Harbor series is filled with quirky townsfolk, cozy settings, and swoon-worthy romance. She loves finding books with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice and strives for that in her own writing.

\"},{\"id\":\"111535673T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Laurie Gilmore writes small-town romance. Her Dream Harbor series is filled with quirky townsfolk, cozy settings, and swoon-worthy romance. She loves finding books with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice and strives for that in her own writing.

\"},{\"id\":\"91368764T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Laurie Gilmore writes small-town romance. Her Dream Harbor series is filled with quirky townsfolk, cozy settings, and swoon-worthy romance. She loves finding books with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice and strives for that in her own writing. If you ever wished you lived in Stars Hollow (or that Luke and Lorelai would just get together already!) then her books are definitely for you.

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A gritty, inspiring, heart-wrenching memoir by the Academy Award-winning legend and icon Sylvester Stallone, about his unlikely path to stardom and the creation of the greatest underdog story ever told.

In the fifty years since Sylvester Stallone ran up the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum, he and those steps have become symbols of resilience and determination, and have inspired millions from all over the world to pursue their dreams. In The Steps, Stallone recounts how he pursued his own dreams. A culmination of decades of reflection, Stallone shares where he came from-a difficult birth, an even more difficult childhood, years of struggle in school being misunderstood-and he explains how the real story of a successful life is built by facing, embracing, and ultimately overcoming our challenges. It's found in the distances we are willing to go and the steps we must take to get from where we are to where we want to go.

In a narrative framed between his arrival in New York City in 1969 and the triumph of Rocky at the 1977 Academy Awards, Stallone weaves a vivid and propulsive portrait of struggle, subsistence, and ultimately success. He writes of his early days and later years, too, and the persistence, creativity, and resilience that led not only to the creation of Rocky but to a career filled with remarkably iconic roles. The Steps is a testament to Stallone's extraordinary life and a profound meditation on the importance of vision and willpower and hard work.

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Actor, award-winner, and icon Sylvester Stallone brings his story to life in this powerful memoir, chronicling his tumultuous early life, his rise to fame and the struggles of stardom that followed.

\"},{\"id\":\"115311547T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Actor, award-winner, and icon Sylvester Stallone brings his story to life in this powerful memoir, chronicling his tumultuous early life, his rise to fame and the struggles of stardom that followed.

\"},{\"id\":\"128276541T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

SYLVESTER STALLONE is the creative force behind some of the most lasting and iconic characters in film, including Rocky Balboa in the Academy Award-winning Rocky, and John Rambo in First Blood as well as the blockbuster franchise The Expendables. In addition to being a prolific writer and director, he is the only actor to open a number one film across six decades. He currently stars in the critically acclaimed hit TV series Tulsa King, where he also acts as executive producer and writer. He and his wife Jennifer share three beautiful daughters, Sophia, Sistine, and Scarlet.

\"},{\"id\":\"128276543T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"SYLVESTER STALLONE is the creative force behind some of the most lasting and iconic characters in film, including Rocky Balboa in the Academy Award—winning Rocky, and John Rambo in First Blood as well as the blockbuster franchise The Expendables. In addition to being a prolific writer and director, he is the only actor to open a number one film across six decades. He currently stars in the critically acclaimed hit TV series Tulsa King, where he also acts as executive producer and writer. He and his wife Jennifer share three beautiful daughters, Sophia, Sistine, and Scarlet.

\"},{\"id\":\"128276542T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"128276546T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"SYLVESTER STALLONE is the creative force behind some of the most lasting and iconic characters in film, including Rocky Balboa in the Academy Award—winning Rocky, and John Rambo in First Blood as well as the blockbuster franchise The Expendables. In addition to being a prolific writer and director, he is the only actor to open a number one film across six decades. He currently stars in the critically acclaimed hit TV series Tulsa King, where he also acts as executive producer and writer. He and his wife Jennifer share three beautiful daughters, Sophia, Sistine, and Scarlet.

\"}]",{"_41":3257,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3258},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044558553329","The-Steps/Sylvester-Stallone",{"_41":3260,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3261},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044556194033","1148277546",{"_41":3263,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044557766897",{"_41":3265,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":3240},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044558946545",{"_41":3267,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3216},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044553834737",{"_41":3269,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044558061809",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3271,"_71":3272,"_1905":2328,"_825":3273,"_1908":3274,"_1910":3275,"_1912":3276,"_1919":3279,"_1927":59,"_1928":3282,"_1934":3286,"_1955":3296,"_1956":3297,"_1958":3298,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3299},"gid://shopify/Product/9412282974449","Redwood: The Untold Story of the Cold War's Most Extraordinary Spy","9780593728123","From the bestselling author of The Spy and the Traitor comes the ultimate true-life Cold War thriller: the untold story of a Russian double agent with a desperate secret-and the key to stopping a nuclear apocalypse.\"Ben Macintyre has a rare ability to turn history and espionage upside down and give us true, colorful stories that astound us as they draw us in. Redwood might be his best.\"-John GrishamIn 1981, KGB Major Vladimir Kuzichkin, codenamed \"Redwood,\" was the best Soviet officer in Iran, running spies in the wake of the Islamic revolution and working with a hidden network of Iranian communists to undermine the new regime. But Kuzichkin had a problem, a sexual secret that, if revealed, would humiliate him with his colleagues, cost him his job, and send him into exile. Desperate for a solution, he reached out to the only place he believed could help: Britain's MI6.So begins one of the most astounding true spy stories of the Cold War, set against the terrifying prospect of nuclear armageddon. Taking readers through shadowy back alleys of Tehran, across bloody streets and into cloistered intelligence offices, Ben Macintyre unfolds a world in turmoil, where no one's motive is what it seems, and exposure means death. As Kuzichkin helps the Soviet leadership plot an overthrow of the Ayatollah's fledgling regime-and the American government secretly contemplates a nuclear response if they do-it falls on MI6's resourceful young undercover officer Ian McCredie to spirit Kuzichkin's vital information back to the West. But when both Iranian intelligence and the KGB close in on the Russian double-agent, McCredie must design an improbable high-stakes escape plan for Kuzichkin, in which failure is almost certain and the direction of the Cold War hangs in the balance.This is the gripping tale of one man's courage, and its extraordinary unintended consequences that still shape our world today. It's about a moving friendship between spies on opposite sides of the global conflict; about marriage, loyalty, and betrayal. Drawing on never-before-seen archival material and revealing interviews with the participants, Redwood plunges readers back into the world of The Spy and the Traitor, where the fate of millions turns on the split-second decisions of spies under pressure.","From the bestselling author of The Spy and the Traitor comes the ultimate true-life Cold War thriller: the untold story of a Russian double agent with a desperate secret-and the key to stopping a nuclear apocalypse.

\"Ben Macintyre has a rare ability to turn history and espionage upside down and give us true, colorful stories that astound us as they draw us in. Redwood might be his best.\"-John Grisham

In 1981, KGB Major Vladimir Kuzichkin, codenamed \"Redwood,\" was the best Soviet officer in Iran, running spies in the wake of the Islamic revolution and working with a hidden network of Iranian communists to undermine the new regime. But Kuzichkin had a problem, a sexual secret that, if revealed, would humiliate him with his colleagues, cost him his job, and send him into exile. Desperate for a solution, he reached out to the only place he believed could help: Britain's MI6.

So begins one of the most astounding true spy stories of the Cold War, set against the terrifying prospect of nuclear armageddon. Taking readers through shadowy back alleys of Tehran, across bloody streets and into cloistered intelligence offices, Ben Macintyre unfolds a world in turmoil, where no one's motive is what it seems, and exposure means death. As Kuzichkin helps the Soviet leadership plot an overthrow of the Ayatollah's fledgling regime-and the American government secretly contemplates a nuclear response if they do-it falls on MI6's resourceful young undercover officer Ian McCredie to spirit Kuzichkin's vital information back to the West. But when both Iranian intelligence and the KGB close in on the Russian double-agent, McCredie must design an improbable high-stakes escape plan for Kuzichkin, in which failure is almost certain and the direction of the Cold War hangs in the balance.

This is the gripping tale of one man's courage, and its extraordinary unintended consequences that still shape our world today. It's about a moving friendship between spies on opposite sides of the global conflict; about marriage, loyalty, and betrayal. Drawing on never-before-seen archival material and revealing interviews with the participants, Redwood plunges readers back into the world of The Spy and the Traitor, where the fate of millions turns on the split-second decisions of spies under pressure.",{"_41":3277,"_54":3278,"_56":2335,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/49384249131249","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593728123_p0.jpg?v=1783566741",{"_1921":3280},{"_1923":3281,"_1925":1926},"32.0",{"_1921":3283,"_1932":3285},{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},"35.0",{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3287},[3288],{"_41":3289,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":3290,"_705":3291,"_1943":3292,"_1945":3293,"_1947":3294,"_1953":3273,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47588913676529",{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},{"_41":3277,"_54":3278,"_1918":-5,"_56":2335,"_50":1917},{"_1923":3281,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3272,"_825":3273},[3295],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2354},{"_1951":3273},{"_1951":2328},[3300,-5,-5,3303,3305,-5,3307,3309,3312,3315,3318,-5,3320,3322,-5,3324,-5,-5],{"_41":3301,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3302},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979855089","[{\"contributorId\":170136,\"fullName\":\"Ben Macintyre\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3304,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980182769",{"_41":3306,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979625713",{"_41":3308,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980248305",{"_41":3310,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3311},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74634584326385","[{\"id\":\"132431612T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"1

Elite Forces

At the age of twenty-two, Vladimir Andreevich Kuzichkin discovered he was not who he thought he was.

Kuzichkin's childhood was privileged, by Moscow standards. His father Andrei was a KGB officer, undistinguished and disgruntled, but enjoying the benefits that came from membership in the Soviet Union's all-powerful intelligence and security service. His mother, Elisabeta, was an office typist. Born in 1947, Vladimir was principally raised by his maternal grandmother, who spoiled him. Despite the privations of postwar Russia, the family had enough to eat, clothing coupons, and holidays in a state dacha. When Vladimir was seven, they moved into a three-room apartment in a cooperative block in the Leningrad District, surrounded by a high fence to keep out the poor from the slums. An only child, little Volodya considered this a life of \\\"luxury.\\\"

But the family had a streak of violent unhappiness running through it, fueled by vodka. Andrei Kuzichkin was a vicious alcoholic. He beat Elisabeta on the weekend and whenever he drank during the week, which was usually. She suffered repeated miscarriages. This added to Andrei's fury. He hit his son, too, until the boy grew big enough to defend himself. By the age of fourteen, Vladimir was already over six feet tall.

Intelligent and sensitive, Vladimir had hated his father for as long as he could remember. One summer in the dacha, he befriended a domesticated pig named Vasili, feeding the animal leftovers and teaching it to come when he whistled. At the end of the holiday Andrei sternly summoned Vladimir to the barn and insisted the boy watch as he killed his pet with a hatchet. Ten-year-old Volodya wept for a week, but not in front of his father. Like many abused children, fear and hatred brought complex secret feelings of guilt and self-loathing. \\\"What kind of a person am I that I detest the man I came from?\\\" he wondered. Sometimes he imagined killing his father, with an axe.

The boy rebelled, insofar as that was possible in Soviet Russia of the 1960s. He ran with a gang of street toughs and got into fights. His height made him a target. To defy his father, he refused to join Komsomol, the communist youth league. He listened to bootleg pop music from Britain and America and aped the forbidden fashions of the capitalist West. He also discovered the songs of Vladimir Vysotsky, an unruly star of the new Moscow folk underground. With a cousin and two friends, he formed a rock band called The Brothers. At the age of eighteen, wearing flares and two-inch home-adapted Cuban heels, Vladimir Kuzichkin imagined himself as a gigantic Russian version of Cliff Richard or Paul McCartney. \\\"We are going to be the Russian Beatles,\\\" he declared. Andrei Kuzichkin said his son's music was rubbish and that The Brothers would never amount to anything. He was right.

Vladimir Kuzichkin finished school with good grades, a reputation for fistfights, a taste for Western pop, a damaged soul, and no ambition. Called up for three years' military service, he was sent to Hagenow in East Germany as a radio operator in a nuclear missile launching unit, the front line of the Cold War. \\\"In the event of war,\\\" he recalled, \\\"the division's task was to annihilate Hamburg with six tactical nuclear missiles\\\" and then be obliterated in turn, in accordance with the logic of mutually assured destruction (MAD). The naïve young conscript was not overly concerned by his assigned role in nuclear Armageddon. He was very bored.

One morning, Kuzichkin was summoned to the commander's office to take an urgent telephone call from his mother. \\\"Your father is dead,\\\" Elisabeta Kuzichkina said, her voice hoarse. \\\"You must come home.\\\" Granted two days' compassionate leave, on the train to Moscow he wondered at his own lack of grief. He was unable to cry. His overwhelming feeling was not grief, but relief. \\\"Now I don't have to hate myself so much,\\\" he reflected.

Opening the apartment front door, he found Andrei Kuzichkin seated at the table, very much alive, and drunk. The older man picked up his bottle without a word and retreated to the bedroom. Between sobs, Elisabeta confessed her lie.

Vladimir's father was not Andrei Kuzichkin, but Georgi Alexandreevich Larkin, a tall, good-looking construction engineer of Irish ancestry, hence his unusual surname. Elisabeta and Georgi met after the war, and she had become pregnant. They intended to marry. But then he was sent to Siberia to build a steel factory. Georgi urged her to come too. She refused. What would she do there? Moscow was the only world she knew. Larkin never returned from the east. For a few years Elisabeta struggled on as an unmarried working mother, while her mother cared for the child. Her sister was married to a KGB officer, who introduced her to his brother, also in the KGB. Andrei Kuzichkin was boozy and rough, but he had a good job. Andrei offered a future. He even reluctantly agreed to adopt her child.

And now Georgi Larkin, the only man she had ever loved, was dead from a heart attack on a bear-hunting expedition in the Siberian wilderness. It was four hours before they discovered his body in the snow.

Vladimir Kuzichkin was baffled and furious. \\\"How could she deceive me all these years?\\\" he wondered. He ignored Andrei from that day on. And yet the discovery explained everything: the dislocation he had always felt; his hatred for the man who had pretended to be his father and beaten that untruth into him. More prosaically, it explained his height and coloring. To his friends, bandmates, and army comrades, he was still Kuzichkin, the lanky would-be pop star, but inside, secretly, he was Larkin. The discovery of a real father, now invested with imaginary qualities Georgi had never possessed in life, awoke the possibility of making himself into someone else. So that is what he did.

To begin that transformation, he decided, he would need some higher education. Back at the Hagenow base, he plunged into the officers' library and began reading ravenously. He joined the Communist Party (an unshakable requirement for anyone with ambition in Soviet Russia), but without much conviction. He had recited the mantras of Marxism from his earliest childhood, and believed them, along with everyone else. The discovery of his real father made him question everything he had grown up with, including communism. He did not share these heretical thoughts with anyone else. He barely admitted them to himself.

After three years in uniform, Kuzichkin applied to study at the Institute of Asian and African Countries in Moscow, a specialist university teaching Oriental and African languages. Mastery of a foreign tongue \\\"raised the probability of future work abroad.\\\" Reading down the list of language options, from Arabic to Zulu, he settled on Persian (or Farsi), the language of Iran. It sounded intriguing, and the course was undersubscribed. A model Soviet citizen with good academic grades and a clean military record, Kuzichkin was told to report to the Institute on September 1, 1970.

In addition to Iran's language, culture, and history, the six-year course included a substantial ideological component: Communist Party history, dialectical materialism, Marxism-Leninism, philosophy, and political economy. Each student was required to learn an additional Western language: he chose English. If he was deemed suitable, the fourth year (1973-1974) would be spent in Iran.

Located on Karl Marx Prospekt opposite the Kremlin, the Institute was controlled by the International Department of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU). Like every other organ of state, its primary function was to bolster communism and spread the doctrine of revolution worldwide. Kuzichkin was now \\\"in the fast lane of Soviet society,\\\" he reflected, a student at a top university with a bright future: \\\"There was nothing to bar my progress.\\\"

Kuzichkin was a shy, awkward young man, as tall people sometimes are. Except when drunk. Alcohol brought out the extrovert in him. In social situations he tended to drink fast and deeply, before seizing a guitar and bursting into song. Women were drawn to this gentle, melodious giant with bright blue eyes and a shock of fair hair. In October, at a party thrown by a friend of his flatmate, Kuzichkin plucked up and soaked up enough Dutch courage to ask a girl to dance. Her name was Galina Lvovna Kokosova, a petite, pale, sweet-faced woman two years his junior. They swayed to bootlegged Rolling Stones records, her head on his chest, tiny in his arms.

Galina, known as Galya to friends and family, could not understand how such a handsome man could be attracted to her. \\\"I was a very sad and lonely 22-year-old girl: I wasn't in love with anyone; I didn't have any particularly close friends; and, after my dad departed, everything in my life went almost catastrophically wrong. The period from 1965, when my father passed away, until I met Volodya, were the saddest years of my existence.\\\" He gave her a confidence she had never felt before.\"},{\"id\":\"132431422T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"1

Elite Forces

At the age of twenty-two, Vladimir Andreevich Kuzichkin discovered he was not who he thought he was.

Kuzichkin's childhood was privileged, by Moscow standards. His father Andrei was a KGB officer, undistinguished and disgruntled, but enjoying the benefits that came from membership in the Soviet Union's all-powerful intelligence and security service. His mother, Elisabeta, was an office typist. Born in 1947, Vladimir was principally raised by his maternal grandmother, who spoiled him. Despite the privations of postwar Russia, the family had enough to eat, clothing coupons, and holidays in a state dacha. When Vladimir was seven, they moved into a three-room apartment in a cooperative block in the Leningrad District, surrounded by a high fence to keep out the poor from the slums. An only child, little Volodya considered this a life of \\\"luxury.\\\"

But the family had a streak of violent unhappiness running through it, fueled by vodka. Andrei Kuzichkin was a vicious alcoholic. He beat Elisabeta on the weekend and whenever he drank during the week, which was usually. She suffered repeated miscarriages. This added to Andrei's fury. He hit his son, too, until the boy grew big enough to defend himself. By the age of fourteen, Vladimir was already over six feet tall.

Intelligent and sensitive, Vladimir had hated his father for as long as he could remember. One summer in the dacha, he befriended a domesticated pig named Vasili, feeding the animal leftovers and teaching it to come when he whistled. At the end of the holiday Andrei sternly summoned Vladimir to the barn and insisted the boy watch as he killed his pet with a hatchet. Ten-year-old Volodya wept for a week, but not in front of his father. Like many abused children, fear and hatred brought complex secret feelings of guilt and self-loathing. \\\"What kind of a person am I that I detest the man I came from?\\\" he wondered. Sometimes he imagined killing his father, with an axe.

The boy rebelled, insofar as that was possible in Soviet Russia of the 1960s. He ran with a gang of street toughs and got into fights. His height made him a target. To defy his father, he refused to join Komsomol, the communist youth league. He listened to bootleg pop music from Britain and America and aped the forbidden fashions of the capitalist West. He also discovered the songs of Vladimir Vysotsky, an unruly star of the new Moscow folk underground. With a cousin and two friends, he formed a rock band called The Brothers. At the age of eighteen, wearing flares and two-inch home-adapted Cuban heels, Vladimir Kuzichkin imagined himself as a gigantic Russian version of Cliff Richard or Paul McCartney. \\\"We are going to be the Russian Beatles,\\\" he declared. Andrei Kuzichkin said his son's music was rubbish and that The Brothers would never amount to anything. He was right.

Vladimir Kuzichkin finished school with good grades, a reputation for fistfights, a taste for Western pop, a damaged soul, and no ambition. Called up for three years' military service, he was sent to Hagenow in East Germany as a radio operator in a nuclear missile launching unit, the front line of the Cold War. \\\"In the event of war,\\\" he recalled, \\\"the division's task was to annihilate Hamburg with six tactical nuclear missiles\\\" and then be obliterated in turn, in accordance with the logic of mutually assured destruction (MAD). The naïve young conscript was not overly concerned by his assigned role in nuclear Armageddon. He was very bored.

One morning, Kuzichkin was summoned to the commander's office to take an urgent telephone call from his mother. \\\"Your father is dead,\\\" Elisabeta Kuzichkina said, her voice hoarse. \\\"You must come home.\\\" Granted two days' compassionate leave, on the train to Moscow he wondered at his own lack of grief. He was unable to cry. His overwhelming feeling was not grief, but relief. \\\"Now I don't have to hate myself so much,\\\" he reflected.

Opening the apartment front door, he found Andrei Kuzichkin seated at the table, very much alive, and drunk. The older man picked up his bottle without a word and retreated to the bedroom. Between sobs, Elisabeta confessed her lie.

Vladimir's father was not Andrei Kuzichkin, but Georgi Alexandreevich Larkin, a tall, good-looking construction engineer of Irish ancestry, hence his unusual surname. Elisabeta and Georgi met after the war, and she had become pregnant. They intended to marry. But then he was sent to Siberia to build a steel factory. Georgi urged her to come too. She refused. What would she do there? Moscow was the only world she knew. Larkin never returned from the east. For a few years Elisabeta struggled on as an unmarried working mother, while her mother cared for the child. Her sister was married to a KGB officer, who introduced her to his brother, also in the KGB. Andrei Kuzichkin was boozy and rough, but he had a good job. Andrei offered a future. He even reluctantly agreed to adopt her child.

And now Georgi Larkin, the only man she had ever loved, was dead from a heart attack on a bear-hunting expedition in the Siberian wilderness. It was four hours before they discovered his body in the snow.

Vladimir Kuzichkin was baffled and furious. \\\"How could she deceive me all these years?\\\" he wondered. He ignored Andrei from that day on. And yet the discovery explained everything: the dislocation he had always felt; his hatred for the man who had pretended to be his father and beaten that untruth into him. More prosaically, it explained his height and coloring. To his friends, bandmates, and army comrades, he was still Kuzichkin, the lanky would-be pop star, but inside, secretly, he was Larkin. The discovery of a real father, now invested with imaginary qualities Georgi had never possessed in life, awoke the possibility of making himself into someone else. So that is what he did.

To begin that transformation, he decided, he would need some higher education. Back at the Hagenow base, he plunged into the officers' library and began reading ravenously. He joined the Communist Party (an unshakable requirement for anyone with ambition in Soviet Russia), but without much conviction. He had recited the mantras of Marxism from his earliest childhood, and believed them, along with everyone else. The discovery of his real father made him question everything he had grown up with, including communism. He did not share these heretical thoughts with anyone else. He barely admitted them to himself.

After three years in uniform, Kuzichkin applied to study at the Institute of Asian and African Countries in Moscow, a specialist university teaching Oriental and African languages. Mastery of a foreign tongue \\\"raised the probability of future work abroad.\\\" Reading down the list of language options, from Arabic to Zulu, he settled on Persian (or Farsi), the language of Iran. It sounded intriguing, and the course was undersubscribed. A model Soviet citizen with good academic grades and a clean military record, Kuzichkin was told to report to the Institute on September 1, 1970.

In addition to Iran's language, culture, and history, the six-year course included a substantial ideological component: Communist Party history, dialectical materialism, Marxism-Leninism, philosophy, and political economy. Each student was required to learn an additional Western language: he chose English. If he was deemed suitable, the fourth year (1973-1974) would be spent in Iran.

Located on Karl Marx Prospekt opposite the Kremlin, the Institute was controlled by the International Department of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU). Like every other organ of state, its primary function was to bolster communism and spread the doctrine of revolution worldwide. Kuzichkin was now \\\"in the fast lane of Soviet society,\\\" he reflected, a student at a top university with a bright future: \\\"There was nothing to bar my progress.\\\"

Kuzichkin was a shy, awkward young man, as tall people sometimes are. Except when drunk. Alcohol brought out the extrovert in him. In social situations he tended to drink fast and deeply, before seizing a guitar and bursting into song. Women were drawn to this gentle, melodious giant with bright blue eyes and a shock of fair hair. In October, at a party thrown by a friend of his flatmate, Kuzichkin plucked up and soaked up enough Dutch courage to ask a girl to dance. Her name was Galina Lvovna Kokosova, a petite, pale, sweet-faced woman two years his junior. They swayed to bootlegged Rolling Stones records, her head on his chest, tiny in his arms.

Galina, known as Galya to friends and family, could not understand how such a handsome man could be attracted to her. \\\"I was a very sad and lonely 22-year-old girl: I wasn't in love with anyone; I didn't have any particularly close friends; and, after my dad departed, everything in my life went almost catastrophically wrong. The period from 1965, when my father passed away, until I met Volodya, were the saddest years of my existence.\\\" He gave her a confidence she had never felt before.\"},{\"id\":\"127897052T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"I grab each new book by Ben Macintyre and read it as fast as possible. He has a rare ability to turn history and espionage upside down and give us true, colorful stories that astound us as they draw us in. Redwood might be his best. Given the current war in Iran, it is certainly his most timely.\\\"-John Grisham

\\\"A crackerjack spy story that only Ben Macintyre could tell so well. He seems to have talked to everyone, and cracked every file, that might shed new light on this remarkable tale. But a word of advice: before starting to read, settle into a comfortable chair and have snacks close to hand, because you won't be going anywhere for a while.\\\"-Scott Anderson, author of King of Kings: The Iranian Revolution: A Story of Hubris, Delusion and Catastrophic Miscalculation

\\\"A tangled tale of spy versus spy . . . As ever, Macintyre delivers an improbable but impeccable tale of true espionage.\\\"-Kirkus Reviews

\"},{\"id\":\"128651742T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

He revealed the Kremlin’s secret plot and prevented Armageddon. This gripping account of an unsung hero brings the hidden world of Cold War espionage to life.

\"},{\"id\":\"121116298T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Ben Macintyre is a writer-at-large for The Times (UK) and the bestselling author of Agent Sonya, The Spy and the Traitor, A Spy Among Friends, Double Cross, Operation Mincemeat, Agent Zigzag, Rogue Heroes, Prisoners of the Castle, and The Siege, among other books. Macintyre has also written and presented BBC documentaries of his work.

\"},{\"id\":\"122263818T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":3313,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3314},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980707057","Redwood/Ben-Macintyre",{"_41":3316,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3317},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979494641","1148963735",{"_41":3319,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980084465",{"_41":3321,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2354},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682087293169",{"_41":3323,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3273},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633978642673",{"_41":3325,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980313841",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3327,"_71":3328,"_1905":2328,"_825":3329,"_1908":3330,"_1910":3331,"_1912":3332,"_1919":3336,"_1927":59,"_1928":3339,"_1934":3342,"_1955":3352,"_1956":3354,"_1958":3355,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3356},"gid://shopify/Product/9484011438321","The Castle: Adventures in a World of Unraveling Men","9781594634208","\"Fantastic and intensely of-the-moment... It's a dogged feat of investigation from one of our greatest non-fiction storytellers.\" -Patrick Radden Keefe \"Brilliant... A blockbuster portrait of men gone mad.\" -Publishers Weekly, starred reviewFrom the bestselling author of The Psychopath Test and So You've Been Publicly Shamed comes a darkly comic trip to the furthest reaches of the masculinity crisisHis only child is lured to a mysterious castle in the forests of New England late one night, sending Jon Ronson on an extraordinary adventure into a dark world of unmoored men desperately searching for purpose and control-whatever the cost. With zero warning, the crisis of masculinity and its bizarre, wrecking-ball manifestations had crashed into Jon's life. As his investigation deepens, urgent questions come to light: What exactly is \"Princessing\"? Why did a lawn care influencer dress as a baby in front of billions of online viewers? How did a paid-up member of the Skeptic Society derail his life in the name of a warped vision of chivalry? And, more pressingly, why are two recently released murderers on their way to pay Jon a visit? In our rapidly changing society, many men have become detached from reality; some are behaving like separatists, while others have fallen deep down ideological rabbit holes. Is this a complete fracturing of society, a new era of disinhibition where anything goes? Drawing on his trademark brand of humor, psychological insight, and unrivaled prescience, The Castle marks Jon Ronson's long-awaited return to the written page in his darkest and most insightful book yet-one where he throws open the doors to the Castle and reveals a new lost generation of men.","\"Fantastic and intensely of-the-moment... It's a dogged feat of investigation from one of our greatest non-fiction storytellers.\" -Patrick Radden Keefe

\"Brilliant... A blockbuster portrait of men gone mad.\" -Publishers Weekly, starred review

From the bestselling author of The Psychopath Test and So You've Been Publicly Shamed comes a darkly comic trip to the furthest reaches of the masculinity crisis

His only child is lured to a mysterious castle in the forests of New England late one night, sending Jon Ronson on an extraordinary adventure into a dark world of unmoored men desperately searching for purpose and control-whatever the cost.

With zero warning, the crisis of masculinity and its bizarre, wrecking-ball manifestations had crashed into Jon's life. As his investigation deepens, urgent questions come to light: What exactly is \"Princessing\"? Why did a lawn care influencer dress as a baby in front of billions of online viewers? How did a paid-up member of the Skeptic Society derail his life in the name of a warped vision of chivalry? And, more pressingly, why are two recently released murderers on their way to pay Jon a visit?

In our rapidly changing society, many men have become detached from reality; some are behaving like separatists, while others have fallen deep down ideological rabbit holes. Is this a complete fracturing of society, a new era of disinhibition where anything goes?

Drawing on his trademark brand of humor, psychological insight, and unrivaled prescience, The Castle marks Jon Ronson's long-awaited return to the written page in his darkest and most insightful book yet-one where he throws open the doors to the Castle and reveals a new lost generation of men.",{"_41":3333,"_54":3334,"_56":3335,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48885996126449","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781594634208_p0.jpg?v=1777343651",1323,{"_1921":3337},{"_1923":3338,"_1925":1926},"29.0",{"_1921":3340,"_1932":3341},{"_1923":3281,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":3281,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3343},[3344],{"_41":3345,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":3346,"_705":3347,"_1943":3348,"_1945":3349,"_1947":3350,"_1953":3329,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47819820761329",{"_1923":3281,"_1925":1926},{"_41":3333,"_54":3334,"_1918":-5,"_56":3335,"_50":1917},{"_1923":3338,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3328,"_825":3329},[3351],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":3353},"[\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"B|$3 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7847)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Recently Reviewed (p10276)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\",\"Barnes & Noble Holiday Gift Guide (p5430)\"]",{"_1951":3329},{"_1951":2328},[3357,-5,-5,3360,3362,-5,3364,3366,3369,3372,3375,-5,3377,3379,-5,3381,3383,3385],{"_41":3358,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3359},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541886705","[{\"contributorId\":1057956,\"fullName\":\"Jon Ronson\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3361,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542083313",{"_41":3363,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541755633",{"_41":3365,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542116081",{"_41":3367,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3368},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812915900657","[{\"id\":\"130618355T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"Fantastic and intensely of-the-moment, The Castle explores the nature of male anxiety, the spiralling delusions of the internet, the destructive allure of anti-woke defiance, the obsequious flattery of AI chatbots, the impunity of the mega-rich and so many other currents that are currently roiling our existence. The genuine horrors of contemporary life are rendered in a way that manages to be so antic and perversely fun, without whitewashing any of the horror itself . . . It's a dogged feat of investigation from one of our greatest non-fiction storytellers.\\\" -Patrick Radden Keefe, author of London Falling

\\\"Ridiculously compelling and wonderfully weird, this is a book that helps us understand why so many men seem to be unraveling, filling their lives with ill-conceived dreams and self-performance. The Castle is vintage Ronson: wise, timely and extremely funny.\\\" -Louis Theroux

\\\"Addictively readable, I loved The Castle. This is a much-needed book - an anti-sensationalist yet utterly compelling investigation into the masculinity crisis.\\\" -Dolly Alderton, author of Good Material

\\\"The Castle is by turns funny and frightening, dark and disarming. It's a cautionary tale of our times that deserves to be on the shelf of any reader who seeks to make sense of the perplexing, and sometimes toxic, manosphere.\\\" -BookPage, starred review

\\\"Brilliant...A blockbuster portrait of men gone mad.\\\" -Publishers Weekly, starred review

\\\"Jon Ronson is an essential guide in these disorienting times. I love everything that Ronson writes but The Castle is a particular gem, a story of his own making in the collapsing world of twenty-first century masculinity. Wonderfully breathless and weird and open, it feels hallucinatory and all too real at the same time.\\\" -Sam Knight, author of The Premonitions Bureau

\\\"The Castle is an investigation into one man that broadens into an enquiry into the state of all men. Jon Ronson is such a companiable narrator, and this book is by turns horrifying, hilarious, bizarre and gripping\\\" -Ed Caesar, author of Moth and the Mountain

\\\"Every Jon Ronson book has made me see the world differently. Nobody tells an unbelievable-but-true story like him. He's done it again with The Castle: I was utterly gripped from page one. If you want a totally compelling live mystery that will make you burn for justice, READ THIS BOOK URGENTLY.\\\" -Marina Hyde\"},{\"id\":\"130704411T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"Fantastic and intensely of-the-moment, The Castle explores the nature of male anxiety, the spiralling delusions of the internet, the destructive allure of anti-woke defiance, the obsequious flattery of AI chatbots, the impunity of the mega-rich and so many other currents that are currently roiling our existence. The genuine horrors of contemporary life are rendered in a way that manages to be so antic and perversely fun, without whitewashing any of the horror itself . . . It's a dogged feat of investigation from one of our greatest non-fiction storytellers.\\\" --Patrick Radden Keefe, author of London Falling

\\\"Ridiculously compelling and wonderfully weird, this is a book that helps us understand why so many men seem to be unraveling, filling their lives with ill-conceived dreams and self-performance. The Castle is vintage Ronson: wise, timely and extremely funny.\\\" --Louis Theroux

\\\"Addictively readable, I loved The Castle. This is a much-needed book -- an anti-sensationalist yet utterly compelling investigation into the masculinity crisis.\\\" --Dolly Alderton, author of Good Material

\\\"The Castle is by turns funny and frightening, dark and disarming. It's a cautionary tale of our times that deserves to be on the shelf of any reader who seeks to make sense of the perplexing, and sometimes toxic, manosphere.\\\" --BookPage, starred review

\\\"Brilliant...A blockbuster portrait of men gone mad.\\\" --Publishers Weekly, starred review

\\\"Jon Ronson is an essential guide in these disorienting times. I love everything that Ronson writes but The Castle is a particular gem, a story of his own making in the collapsing world of twenty-first century masculinity. Wonderfully breathless and weird and open, it feels hallucinatory and all too real at the same time.\\\" --Sam Knight, author of The Premonitions Bureau

\\\"The Castle is an investigation into one man that broadens into an enquiry into the state of all men. Jon Ronson is such a companiable narrator, and this book is by turns horrifying, hilarious, bizarre and gripping\\\" --Ed Caesar, author of Moth and the Mountain

\\\"Every Jon Ronson book has made me see the world differently. Nobody tells an unbelievable-but-true story like him. He's done it again with The Castle I was utterly gripped from page one. If you want a totally compelling live mystery that will make you burn for justice, READ THIS BOOK URGENTLY.\\\" --Marina Hyde\"},{\"id\":\"130277863T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

With humor and curiosity, Jon Ronson unpacks modern masculinity, delving into the pressures and expectations placed on men as well as the loneliness, shame and loss of purpose many experience.

\"},{\"id\":\"124037624T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Jon Ronson is an internationally bestselling author, journalist, and filmmaker whose books have been translated into more than thirty languages. His nonfiction titles include So You've Been Publicly Shamed, The Psychopath Test, and Them: Adventures with Extremists. Two of his books, The Men Who Stare at Goats and Frank, have been adapted into feature-length films, and his TED talks have amassed more than thirty million views. Ronson is also the host and producer of multiple radio programs and chart-topping podcasts. He is a regular contributor to This American Life and lives in New York.

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\"}]",{"_41":3370,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3371},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542378225","The-Castle/Jon-Ronson",{"_41":3373,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3374},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541690097","1149525288",{"_41":3376,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542050545",{"_41":3378,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":3353},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682482245873",{"_41":3380,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3329},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812540936433",{"_41":3382,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542148849",{"_41":3384,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2011,"_1951":2136},"gid://shopify/Metafield/93915932819697",{"_41":3386,"_1965":2010,"_1967":2015,"_1951":891},"gid://shopify/Metafield/93915932786929",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3388,"_71":3389,"_1905":2328,"_825":3390,"_1908":3391,"_1910":3392,"_1912":3393,"_1919":3396,"_1927":59,"_1928":3398,"_1934":3401,"_1955":3411,"_1956":3412,"_1958":3413,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3414},"gid://shopify/Product/9484011602161","Vibe: The Secrets of Strong Connections in a Lonely World","9798217059706","#1 New York Times bestselling author Adam Grant illuminates the surprising science of chemistry and closenessWhen we vibe with other people, it fuels our happiness and success. Yet building meaningful ties is one of the most pressing problems of our time. As face-to-face interaction gives way to digital screens, communication gets outsourced to AI, and the world becomes more polarized, our loneliness crisis shows no signs of slowing.To reveal how we can forge faster, stronger, and longer bonds, Adam Grant offers groundbreaking studies, expert insights, and myth-busting stories. Filled with the eye-opening takeaways that have brought millions of readers to his books, Vibe teaches us that similarity is not necessary for solidarity, chemistry doesn't always happen quickly, and closeness doesn't always take time.Along the way, Grant introduces us to a crew of astronauts who learned to trust people they don't like, a comedy troupe that swears by taking time apart as a key to staying together, a band that grew closer by learning to fight more, and a journalist who designed a gathering that led to seventy-eight marriages. He also opens up about his personal struggles to find his place as a shy introvert and the lessons that propelled his transformation into an enthusiastic convener. Through these examples and more, Grant uncovers the keys to creating deeper relationships and tighter communities.Vibe will change how you interact with people. No matter how good you are at connecting, you can always get better-and help others get better too.","#1 New York Times bestselling author Adam Grant illuminates the surprising science of chemistry and closeness

When we vibe with other people, it fuels our happiness and success. Yet building meaningful ties is one of the most pressing problems of our time. As face-to-face interaction gives way to digital screens, communication gets outsourced to AI, and the world becomes more polarized, our loneliness crisis shows no signs of slowing.

To reveal how we can forge faster, stronger, and longer bonds, Adam Grant offers groundbreaking studies, expert insights, and myth-busting stories. Filled with the eye-opening takeaways that have brought millions of readers to his books, Vibe teaches us that similarity is not necessary for solidarity, chemistry doesn't always happen quickly, and closeness doesn't always take time.

Along the way, Grant introduces us to a crew of astronauts who learned to trust people they don't like, a comedy troupe that swears by taking time apart as a key to staying together, a band that grew closer by learning to fight more, and a journalist who designed a gathering that led to seventy-eight marriages. He also opens up about his personal struggles to find his place as a shy introvert and the lessons that propelled his transformation into an enthusiastic convener. Through these examples and more, Grant uncovers the keys to creating deeper relationships and tighter communities.

Vibe will change how you interact with people. No matter how good you are at connecting, you can always get better-and help others get better too.",{"_41":3394,"_54":3395,"_56":2964,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48762598359281","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9798217059706_p0.jpg?v=1785381129",{"_1921":3397},{"_1923":2338,"_1925":1926},{"_1921":3399,"_1932":3400},{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3402},[3403],{"_41":3404,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":3405,"_705":3406,"_1943":3407,"_1945":3408,"_1947":3409,"_1953":3390,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47819821023473",{"_1923":2341,"_1925":1926},{"_41":3394,"_54":3395,"_1918":-5,"_56":2964,"_50":1917},{"_1923":2338,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3389,"_825":3390},[3410],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":2354},{"_1951":3390},{"_1951":2328},[3415,-5,-5,3418,3420,-5,3422,3424,3427,3430,3433,-5,3435,3437,-5,3439,-5,-5],{"_41":3416,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3417},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812550701297","[{\"contributorId\":3612652,\"fullName\":\"Adam Grant\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3419,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551389425",{"_41":3421,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812550177009",{"_41":3423,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551520497",{"_41":3425,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3426},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812923502833","[{\"id\":\"131047017T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"A deep dive into the science of friendship, companionship, and love. Every page is an illumination! The world needs this book now more than ever.\\\"
-Reese Witherspoon

\\\"Adam Grant has focused his enormous brain and loads of research on how we connect to our fellow humans and the result is informative and compulsively readable. Simply put, the Vibe is immaculate.\\\"
-Lin-Manuel Miranda and Luis Miranda

\\\"Vibe is a brilliant book about how to create great connections. Reading it is pure joy, and it will bring more joy into your life. If everyone reads it, the world will be a more magical place.\\\"
-Bob Iger

\\\"This book is the antidote for an increasingly lonely and disconnected world. It will make you feel truly hopeful about the power of human connection. I can't imagine a time in our history when we've needed Adam Grant's insights more.\\\"
-Jacinda Ardern

\\\"A master class in building winning teams and lasting bonds. In Vibe, Adam Grant presents an ingenious new approach to being better together. This book is a must-read.\\\"
-Steve Kerr

\\\"Vibe is an indispensable guide for enriching your interactions with loved ones, extended family, coworkers, difficult people, and even strangers. It's so potent, it might even work for your first encounter with a space alien.\\\"
-Neil deGrasse Tyson

\\\"Vibe explores one of the most important lessons I learned during my year in space: Human connection is not something you find, it's something you build. It's a superb book, with compelling insights that are especially relevant in a world where genuine connection is increasingly rare.\\\"
-Scott Kelly\"},{\"id\":\"131072511T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"A deep dive into the science of friendship, companionship, and love. Every page is an illumination! The world needs this book now more than ever.\\\"
--Reese Witherspoon

\\\"Adam Grant has focused his enormous brain and loads of research on how we connect to our fellow humans and the result is informative and compulsively readable. Simply put, the Vibe is immaculate.\\\"
--Lin-Manuel Miranda and Luis Miranda

\\\"Vibe is a brilliant book about how to create great connections. Reading it is pure joy, and it will bring more joy into your life. If everyone reads it, the world will be a more magical place.\\\"
--Bob Iger

\\\"This book is the antidote for an increasingly lonely and disconnected world. It will make you feel truly hopeful about the power of human connection. I can't imagine a time in our history when we've needed Adam Grant's insights more.\\\"
--Jacinda Ardern

\\\"A master class in building winning teams and lasting bonds. In Vibe, Adam Grant presents an ingenious new approach to being better together. This book is a must-read.\\\"
--Steve Kerr

\\\"Vibe is an indispensable guide for enriching your interactions with loved ones, extended family, coworkers, difficult people, and even strangers. It's so potent, it might even work for your first encounter with a space alien.\\\"
--Neil deGrasse Tyson

\\\"Vibe explores one of the most important lessons I learned during my year in space: Human connection is not something you find, it's something you build. It's a superb book, with compelling insights that are especially relevant in a world where genuine connection is increasingly rare.\\\"
--Scott Kelly\"},{\"id\":\"129789034T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

In a world increasingly dependent on technologies like social media and AI, human connection can seem less attainable than ever. Adam Grant shares his personal struggles alongside expert insights for overcoming loneliness and cultivating belonging.

\"},{\"id\":\"132696648T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

\"},{\"id\":\"124037524T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Adam Grant is an organizational psychologist at Wharton, where he has been the top-rated professor for seven straight years. His books have sold millions of copies, he is one of TED's most popular speakers, and his podcasts have over 100 million downloads; he hosts Re:Thinking. Adam has been recognized as the world's second-most influential management thinker and one of Fortune's 40 Under 40. Grant received his BA from Harvard University and his PhD from the University of Michigan, and he is a former Junior Olympic springboard diver and magician. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Allison Sweet Grant, a novelist and poet; their two cats (who don't get along); and their three children (who mostly do).

\"},{\"id\":\"124114690T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

Adam Grant is an organizational psychologist at The Wharton School, where he has been the top-rated professor for seven straight years. His books have sold millions of copies, his TED talks have been viewed more than thirty-five million times, and he hosts the hit podcast Re:Thinking. His pioneering research has challenged widespread assumptions about motivation, success, character, and change, and his viral piece on languishing was the most-read New York Times article of 2021 and the most-saved article across platforms. He has been recognized as the world’s number-two most influential management thinker and one of Fortune’s 40 Under 40, and he has received distinguished scientific achievement awards from the American Psychological Association and the National Science Foundation. Grant received his B.A. from Harvard University and his Ph.D. from the University of Michigan, and he is a former Junior Olympic springboard diver and magician. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Allison Sweet Grant, a novelist and poet; their two cats (who don’t get along); and their three children (who mostly do).

\"},{\"id\":\"132492492T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Adam Grant is an organizational psychologist at Wharton, where he has been the top-rated professor for seven straight years. His books have sold millions of copies, he is one of TED's most popular speakers, and his podcasts have over 100 million downloads; he hosts Re: Thinking. Adam has been recognized as the world's second-most influential management thinker and one of Fortune's 40 Under 40. Grant received his BA from Harvard University and his PhD from the University of Michigan, and he is a former Junior Olympic springboard diver and magician. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Allison Sweet Grant, a novelist and poet; their two cats (who don't get along); and their three children (who mostly do).

\"},{\"id\":\"124240444T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Adam Grant is an organizational psychologist at The Wharton School, where he has been the top-rated professor for seven straight years. His books have sold millions of copies, his TED talks have been viewed more than thirty-five million times, and he hosts the hit podcast Re:Thinking. His pioneering research has challenged widespread assumptions about motivation, success, character, and change, and his viral piece on languishing was the most-read New York Times article of 2021 and the most-saved article across platforms. He has been recognized as the world's number-two most influential management thinker and one of Fortune's 40 Under 40, and he has received distinguished scientific achievement awards from the American Psychological Association and the National Science Foundation. Grant received his BA from Harvard University and his PhD from the University of Michigan, and he is a former Junior Olympic springboard diver and magician. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Allison Sweet Grant, a novelist and poet; their two cats (who don't get along); and their three children (who mostly do).

\"},{\"id\":\"132492252T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

Adam Grant is an organizational psychologist at The Wharton School, where he has been the top-rated professor for seven straight years. His books have sold millions of copies, his TED talks have been viewed more than thirty-five million times, and he hosts the hit podcast Re: Thinking. His pioneering research has challenged widespread assumptions about motivation, success, character, and change, and his viral piece on languishing was the most-read New York Times article of 2021 and the most-saved article across platforms. He has been recognized as the world's number-two most influential management thinker and one of Fortune's 40 Under 40, and he has received distinguished scientific achievement awards from the American Psychological Association and the National Science Foundation. Grant received his BA from Harvard University and his PhD from the University of Michigan, and he is a former Junior Olympic springboard diver and magician. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Allison Sweet Grant, a novelist and poet; their two cats (who don't get along); and their three children (who mostly do).

\"}]",{"_41":3428,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1992,"_1951":3429},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812552667377","Vibe/Adam-Grant",{"_41":3431,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1996,"_1951":3432},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812549914865","1149158802",{"_41":3434,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2000,"_1951":2001},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551225585",{"_41":3436,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1955,"_1951":2354},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682520584433",{"_41":3438,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1956,"_1951":3390},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812548342001",{"_41":3440,"_1965":1966,"_1967":2006,"_1951":2007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551651569",{"_1901":1902,"_41":3442,"_71":3443,"_1905":2328,"_825":3444,"_1908":3445,"_1910":3446,"_1912":3447,"_1919":3450,"_1927":59,"_1928":3453,"_1934":3456,"_1955":3466,"_1956":3468,"_1958":3469,"_1960":-5,"_1961":3470},"gid://shopify/Product/9524501872881","Secrets: A Reporter's Memoir","9781668008232","From two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist Bob Woodward comes the definitive memoir of the man with more #1 bestsellers than any journalist of our time, offering an unprecedented inside look at some of the most newsworthy stories ever.Bob Woodward has reported on every American president from Richard Nixon to Donald Trump. His books have penetrated government institutions, informed the national conversation and shaped our culture. In Secrets, Woodward tells his story-from his Illinois youth to his Navy service during the Vietnam War to his tenure at The Washington Post, where his reporting with Carl Bernstein on Watergate captivated the world and became the book All the President's Men. Like never before, Woodward takes readers inside his reporting on the White House, Supreme Court, CIA operations, and the Pentagon. Woodward's one-of-a-kind reporter's memoir lifts the lid on his historic reporting relationships and secret sources, and he explains why he can reveal some of those long-time sources now. The New York Times said of Woodward, \"The scope and depth of his work have earned him a unique place in politics and journalism as perhaps the most enduring chronicler of American presidents.\" Robert Gates, former Defense Secretary and CIA Director said, \"He has an extraordinary ability to get otherwise responsible adults to spill [their] guts.\"","From two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist Bob Woodward comes the definitive memoir of the man with more #1 bestsellers than any journalist of our time, offering an unprecedented inside look at some of the most newsworthy stories ever.

Bob Woodward has reported on every American president from Richard Nixon to Donald Trump. His books have penetrated government institutions, informed the national conversation and shaped our culture.

In Secrets, Woodward tells his story-from his Illinois youth to his Navy service during the Vietnam War to his tenure at The Washington Post, where his reporting with Carl Bernstein on Watergate captivated the world and became the book All the President's Men. Like never before, Woodward takes readers inside his reporting on the White House, Supreme Court, CIA operations, and the Pentagon.

Woodward's one-of-a-kind reporter's memoir lifts the lid on his historic reporting relationships and secret sources, and he explains why he can reveal some of those long-time sources now.

The New York Times said of Woodward, \"The scope and depth of his work have earned him a unique place in politics and journalism as perhaps the most enduring chronicler of American presidents.\"

Robert Gates, former Defense Secretary and CIA Director said, \"He has an extraordinary ability to get otherwise responsible adults to spill [their] guts.\"",{"_41":3448,"_54":3449,"_56":2964,"_50":1917,"_1918":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/49031571112177","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781668008232_p0.jpg?v=1774236175",{"_1921":3451},{"_1923":3452,"_1925":1926},"24.5",{"_1921":3454,"_1932":3455},{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},{"_1936":3457},[3458],{"_41":3459,"_1927":59,"_1940":59,"_1941":3460,"_705":3461,"_1943":3462,"_1945":3463,"_1947":3464,"_1953":3444,"_71":1952,"_1954":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47947898978545",{"_1923":3284,"_1925":1926},{"_41":3448,"_54":3449,"_1918":-5,"_56":2964,"_50":1917},{"_1923":3452,"_1925":1926},{"_71":3443,"_825":3444},[3465],{"_796":1950,"_1951":1952},{"_1951":3467},"[\"BADGE - 30% off (p7865)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"B|30% Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7837)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\",\"Barnes & Noble Holiday Gift Guide (p5430)\"]",{"_1951":3444},{"_1951":2328},[3471,-5,-5,3474,3476,-5,3478,3480,3483,3486,3489,-5,3491,3493,-5,3495,-5,-5],{"_41":3472,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1968,"_1951":3473},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239680856305","[{\"contributorId\":174944,\"fullName\":\"Bob Woodward\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3475,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1979,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239681478897",{"_41":3477,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1958,"_1951":2328},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239680332017",{"_41":3479,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1984,"_1951":2367},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239681642737",{"_41":3481,"_1965":1966,"_1967":1988,"_1951":3482},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239684034801","[{\"id\":\"125226341T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

The iconic journalist and editor tells his own story, in his own words. From his childhood in Illinois to his tenure at The Washington Post, Woodward reflects on his life and brings readers inside some of his biggest stories from The White House, The Supreme Court, CIA operations and more.

\"},{\"id\":\"131642236T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

\"},{\"id\":\"125188537T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

\"},{\"id\":\"125226344T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Bob Woodward is an associate editor at The Washington Post, where he has worked for fifty-five years. He has shared in two Pulitzer Prizes, one for his Watergate coverage with Carl Bernstein and the other for coverage of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He has authored twenty-four bestselling books, sixteen of which have been #1 New York Times bestsellers.

\"},{\"id\":\"125153592T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

Bob Woodward is an associate editor at The Washington Post, where he has worked for 55 years. He has shared in two Pulitzer Prizes, one for his Watergate coverage with Carl Bernstein and the other for coverage of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He has authored 24 bestselling books, 16 of which have been #1 New York Times bestsellers.

\"},{\"id\":\"125226345T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"AUDIO COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Bob Woodward is the author of three consecutive #1 New York Times bestsellers on President Trump—Fear (2018), Rage (2020), and Peril (2021) with Robert Costa—and an audiobook of 20 interviews with Trump. He has authored 22 bestselling books, 15 of which have been #1 New York Times bestsellers, covering every president from Nixon to Biden.

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Chris Van Dusen

All Books By Chris Van Dusen