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examination of one of history's greatest philosophers, showing us how to lead happy, fulfilled, and meaningful livesAristotle was the first philosopher to inquire into subjective happiness, and he understood its essence better and more clearly than anyone since. According to Aristotle, happiness is not about well-being, but instead a lasting state of contentment, which should be the ultimate goal of human life. We become happy through finding a purpose, realizing our potential, and modifying our behavior to become the best version of ourselves. With these objectives in mind, Aristotle developed a humane program for becoming a happy person, which has stood the test of time, comprising much of what today we associate with the good life: meaning, creativity, and positivity. Most importantly, Aristotle understood happiness as available to the vast majority us, but only, crucially, if we decide to apply ourselves to its creationand he led by example. As Hall writes, \"If you believe that the goal of human life is to maximize happiness, then you are a budding Aristotelian.\"In expert yet vibrant modern language, Hall lays out the crux of Aristotle's thinking, mixing affecting autobiographical anecdotes with a deep wealth of classical learning. For Hall, whose own life has been greatly improved by her understanding of Aristotle, this is an intensely personal subject. She distills his ancient wisdom into ten practical and universal lessons to help us confront life's difficult and crucial moments, summarizing a lifetime of the most rarefied and brilliant scholarship.","From renowned classicist Edith Hall, ARISTOTLE'S WAY is an examination of one of history's greatest philosophers, showing us how to lead happy, fulfilled, and meaningful lives

Aristotle was the first philosopher to inquire into subjective happiness, and he understood its essence better and more clearly than anyone since. According to Aristotle, happiness is not about well-being, but instead a lasting state of contentment, which should be the ultimate goal of human life. We become happy through finding a purpose, realizing our potential, and modifying our behavior to become the best version of ourselves. With these objectives in mind, Aristotle developed a humane program for becoming a happy person, which has stood the test of time, comprising much of what today we associate with the good life: meaning, creativity, and positivity. Most importantly, Aristotle understood happiness as available to the vast majority us, but only, crucially, if we decide to apply ourselves to its creationand he led by example. As Hall writes, \"If you believe that the goal of human life is to maximize happiness, then you are a budding Aristotelian.\"

In expert yet vibrant modern language, Hall lays out the crux of Aristotle's thinking, mixing affecting autobiographical anecdotes with a deep wealth of classical learning. For Hall, whose own life has been greatly improved by her understanding of Aristotle, this is an intensely personal subject. She distills his ancient wisdom into ten practical and universal lessons to help us confront life's difficult and crucial moments, summarizing a lifetime of the most rarefied and brilliant scholarship.","featuredImage",{"_41":2360,"_54":2361,"_56":2362,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47597344620785","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780735220829_p0.jpg?v=1765183313",1315,2000,"altText",{"_950":2366},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},"18.0",{"_950":2369,"_956":2370},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},"variants",{"_965":2373},[2374],{"_41":2375,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":2376,"_983":2377,"_928":2378,"_986":2379,"_990":2355,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46279620591857",{"_41":2360,"_54":2361,"_2364":-5,"_56":2362,"_50":2363},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},{"_72":2354,"_829":2355},[2380],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2355},[2383,-5,-5,2386,2388,-5,2390,2392,2396,2399,2402,-5,-5,2404,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2384,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2385},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198434222321","[{\"contributorId\":436492,\"fullName\":\"Edith Hall\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2387,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198434844913",{"_41":2389,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198433599729",{"_41":2391,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198435008753",{"_41":2393,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2395},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198436942065","commentary","[{\"id\":\"75708551T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Chapter 1

Happiness

At the beginning of Eudemian Ethics, Aristotle quotes a line of wisdom literature inscribed on an ancient stone on the sacred island of Delos. It proclaimed that the three best things in life are \\\"Justice, Health, and Achieving One's Desires.\\\" Aristotle trenchantly disagrees. According to him, the ultimate goal of human life is, simply, happiness, which means finding a purpose in order to realize your potential and working on your behavior to become the best version of yourself. You are your own moral agent, but act in an interconnected world where partnerships with other people are of great significance.

Aristotle's own teacher was Plato, himself the disciple of Socrates who famously said \\\"the unexamined life is not worth living.\\\" Aristotle regarded this is as somewhat harsh. He knew that many people-perhaps the majority-live intuitively and often unreflectively, but they enjoy great happiness, on \\\"autopilot\\\" as it were. He would have shifted the emphasis to practical activity and to the future, and his alternative motto might have been: \\\"the unplanned life is unlikely to be fully happy.\\\"

Aristotelian ethics put the individual in charge. As Abraham Lincoln saw, \\\"Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.\\\" Rather than working on autopilot, Aristotelian ethics put you as sole pilot at the full control panel. Other ethical systems place far less emphasis either on your individual moral agency or on your responsibilities toward others. Aristotelian ethics share the starting point of the moral agent with ethical egoism, associated with the early modern philosopher Bernard Mandeville (1670-1733), but nothing else. This system recommends that every individual consciously act so as to maximize their own self-interest. Imagine you are hosting a tea party for ten of your neighbors. You know that two are vegans. But vegan sandwiches are three times as expensive as ham sandwiches. If you buy two servings of vegan sandwiches, there will be less food all round for everybody. The egoist would ignore everyone else's needs and choose whether to cater for the vegans depending on her own personal eating habits. If she were not a vegan, then she would certainly not want her helping of ham sandwiches diminished by having to cater for anyone else's different preference. If she were a vegan, then she would ignore the deprivation suffered by all eight carnivores receiving smaller helpings and simply ensure that there was plenty of vegan food available for herself, and order a private extra serving.

Utilitarians, on the other hand, seek to maximize the happiness of the greatest number, thus focusing on consequences of actions: for utilitarians, a result involving eight happy carnivores completely trumps the accompanying problem of two miserable vegans. Utilitarianism gets difficult when the minorities are very large: a tea party with, say, four miserable vegans and only six happy carnivores would begin to feel decidedly unfestive. Followers of Immanuel Kant emphasize duties and obligations, asking whether there should be a universal and fixed law about the proportion of different kinds of sandwiches available at tea parties. Cultural relativists, on the other hand, have insisted that there is no such thing as a universal moral law. Everyone, they say, belongs to a group or groups which do have their own internal laws and customs. Across the planet, there are many cultures and communities which eat no pig products at all; there are others which cannot comprehend vegetarianism or even tea parties.

Aristotle would instead realize that the decision about the sandwiches could not be made abstractly in a vacuum. He would set aside time to think about the problem and make plans. He would look behind catering plans to make his intention conscious-if it is to make all ten neighbors feel welcomed and well fed, because that would make the whole community nicer for everyone to live in, conducing to individual and collective happiness, then his decision would need to maximize the possibility of that intention being fulfilled. There would be little point in offending even a minority of the guests. He would then consult interested persons, including the invitees and the caterers, to test the water on possible reactions. He would think about previous parties he had held or experienced, review precedents and very likely discover a way round the whole problem from looking at the history of tea parties-serving non-dairy cakes which everyone liked, for example, rather than the divisive sandwiches. He would also make sure that he personally enjoyed the types of cake he then chose, because unnecessary self-denial has no place in his philosophy of respect toward self and others.

Aristotle's ethical system is versatile, flexible and practical to implement in daily life. Most of the real-world psychological steps toward increasing contentment outlined by psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky in The How of Happiness: A Practical Guide to Getting the Life You Want (2007) bear a startling resemblance to Aristotle's philosophical recommendations, and she indeed cites him with approval. His leitmotifs are working with the situation you find at hand, forethought, an unrelenting focus on intentions, flexibility, practical common sense, individual autonomy and the importance of consultation with others. The basic premise of Aristotle's notion of happiness is wonderfully simple and democratic: everyone can decide to be happy. After a certain amount of time, acting rightly becomes ingrained as a habit, so you feel good about yourself, and the resulting state of mind is one of eudaimonia, Aristotle's word for happiness.

This Aristotelian pursuit of eudaimonia is often attractive to agnostics and atheists, but is in fact compatible with any religion which emphasizes the individual's moral responsibility for their own actions and does not assume that frequent guidance, reward or punishment come from any external divine being. But since Aristotle himself did not believe that god interfered in the world or was interested in it in any way, his program for achieving happiness was a system in itself. The Aristotelian will not expect to find rules about tea parties in any sacred text. But she will not expect to be hit by god-sent retribution if her tea party goes badly wrong, either. Living in a competent and planned manner is something you elect to do to control your life and destiny. Since this control is traditionally assigned to a god or the gods, there is a sense in which it can make you \\\"godlike.\\\"

Eudaimonia, however, is not so simple to explain. The eu- prefix (pronounced like \\\"you\\\") means \\\"well\\\" or \\\"good\\\"; the daimonia element comes from a word with a whole range of meanings-divine being, divine power, guardian spirit, fortune or lot in life. So eudaimonia came to mean well-being or prosperity, which certainly includes contentment. But it is far more active than \\\"contentment.\\\" You \\\"do\\\" eudaimonia; it requires positive input. In fact, for Aristotle, happiness is activity (praxis). He points out that if it were an emotional disposition which some people are either born with or not, then it could be possessed by a man who spent his life asleep, \\\"living the life of a vegetable.\\\"

Aristotle's definition of happiness is not constituted by material prosperity of any kind either. A century earlier, another northern Greek thinker, Democritus, whom Aristotle admired, had talked about \\\"happiness of the soul,\\\" and had insisted that it definitely did not derive from the possession of livestock or gold. When Aristotle uses the word eudaimonia, he likewise means \\\"happiness of the soul,\\\" as experienced in the consciousness of the sentient human. According to him, life itself consists of having an active mind. Aristotle was convinced that most people get most of their pleasure from learning things and wondering about and at the world. Indeed, he regarded the attainment of an understanding of the world-not just academic knowledge, but understanding of any aspect of experience-as the actual goal of life itself.

If you believe that the goal of human life is to maximize happiness, then you are a budding Aristotelian. If the goal of human life is happiness, the way to achieve it is by thinking hard about how to Live Well, or being alive in the best way possible. This requires self-conscious habit, which Aristotle does not think other animals are capable of. The deceptively simple adverb \\\"well\\\" can mean \\\"competently\\\" in a practical sense, \\\"morally\\\" in terms of being kind, and \\\"fortunately\\\" or \\\"with felicity\\\" in terms of enjoying happiness and pleasant circumstances.

On 4 July 1776, the brand new United States Congress ratified the text of the Declaration of Independence drawn up by Thomas Jefferson. Its epoch-making first sentence reads: \\\"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.\\\" It is well known that the ancient Roman Republic was a model for the Founding Fathers of America, but that telling phrase \\\"the pursuit of Happiness\\\" shows that Jefferson was immersed in the philosophy of Aristotle as well. Four years later the constitution of Massachusetts (1780) followed suit: government is instituted for the common good, \\\"for the protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness of the people.\\\"

Aristotle believed that the way we educate future citizens is crucial to whether they can fulfill their potential both as individuals and in communities. The 1787 Northwest Ordinance could not have sounded more Aristotelian when it stated that schools were necessary to \\\"good government and the happiness of mankind.\\\" Everyone in the world who lives in broad agreement with the principles that were espoused in the bright new dawn of American independence is, whether they know it or not, an Aristotelian committed to the project of human happiness.

The most famous statement by Aristotle-so famous that it was (inaccurately) quoted in an exchange between Pope Francis and Donald Trump in February 2016-is that man is a \\\"political animal\\\" (zoon politikon). Aristotle meant that man is distinguished from other animals by naturally tending toward gathering together to live in a large settled community, a polis, or city-state. Aristotle always arrives at definitions by making a series of distinctions, and in his Nicomachean Ethics he asks crucially: what are the distinctive features of the human being? Humans, like animals and plants, partake in the basic activity of living, obtaining nutrients and growing. If other animals and plants live, get nourishment and grow, then this is not distinctive to humanity. Animals, like humans, also have senses with which they discern the world around them and other creatures. So sentient life can't be the distinctive and definitive feature of being human, either. But no other living being shares \\\"the active life of the being that has reason.\\\" Humans do things, and are able to think before, during and after these activities. That is the human raison d'étre. If you, as a human being, don't fulfill your ability to act while exercising your rational faculties, then you are not fulfilling your potential.

Exercising your reason to Live Well means cultivating virtues and avoiding vices. Being a good person will make you happier. There is a reason why Frank Capra's feel-good fantasy It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is the most popular Christmas movie of all time: its message resonates so deeply with the generous and cooperative values most humans share. George Bailey, played by James Stewart, is a troubled philanthropic businessman, persecuted by a rapacious capitalist. He is planning suicide on Christmas Eve. A guardian angel, Clarence, arrives from heaven, and through flashbacks shows George episodes from his past life where he has unselfishly helped others; he has been a devoted family member and offered loans allowing the poor to buy their own houses. Clarence persuades George out of suicide by showing him an alternative version of history in which he had never existed, his family had been deprived of him and the poor had to live in slums. George sees that his \\\"wonderful life\\\" had connected him to other people by his efforts to support them. The movie is also Aristotelian in that it presents life as a project, a continuous arc, which is as wonderful as we choose to make it. However cheesy the film may now seem, it strikes an authentic emotional chord.

La Promesse (1996), by Belgian filmmakers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, eschews all sentimentality, showing how a young person on the brink of adulthood, and full moral agency, learns the gratification of goodness. At the beginning of the film Igor is only fifteen years old, a trainee mechanic, but he faces an extreme ethical challenge and succeeds in establishing moral independence from his unscrupulous father. The plot involves the accidental death of an illegal immigrant and Igor's father's insistence that Igor help to conceal it. Igor comes to moral maturity and a degree of serenity by assisting the bereaved family in the face of an unfeeling father, feelings of guilt, social vulnerability and fear of the law.

The emphasis on the connection between happiness and virtuous action is one of the fundamental differences between Aristotle's recipe for happiness and that of the other philosophies such as egoism, utilitarianism and Kantianism. In his Politics, to illustrate the difficulty of achieving happiness without trying to be a good person, Aristotle offers an extreme caricature of the vice-ridden and consequently miserable person:

Nobody would call a man ideally happy that has not got a particle of courage nor of self-control nor of decency nor sense, but is afraid of the flies that flutter by him, cannot refrain from any of the most outrageous actions in order to gratify a desire to eat or to drink, ruins his dearest friends for the sake of a penny, and also in matters of the intellect, similarly, is as senseless and mistaken as any infant or lunatic.

George Washington put the same virtue/happiness correlation differently in his 1789 inaugural speech, when he told his New York City audience that there is \\\"an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness.\\\"

Deciding to pursue happiness by Living Well means practicing \\\"virtue ethics\\\" or more simply \\\"Doing the Right Thing.\\\" Aristotle's virtues, likewise, are translated into portentous nouns like \\\"justice,\\\" which really just means treating other people fairly and decently. Virtue ethics have always attracted humanists, agnostics, atheists and skeptics precisely because they offer, to people who want to live contented, decent and constructive lives, a considered way in which to do so. Virtue ethics will help you approach decisions, morality, and the \\\"big questions\\\" about life and death, trusting in your own judgment and ability to look after yourself, your friends and your dependants. But the lack of idiomatic translations of the Greek has been one reason why Aristotle's sensible and effective program of pursuing happiness through deciding to Do the Right Thing has not become more widely understood among the general public. If people understood that personal happiness was down to their own conduct, then happiness, he wrote, would become \\\"more common because it would be possible for more people to share it.\\\" Aristotle goes so far as to say that, ideally, \\\"all humankind would be seen to be in agreement with the views that will be stated,\\\" but, failing that, they should sign up to at least part of the program entailed by virtue ethics, \\\"for everyone has something to contribute.\\\"\"},{\"id\":\"66667790T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Chapter 1

Happiness

At the beginning of Eudemian Ethics, Aristotle quotes a line of wisdom literature inscribed on an ancient stone on the sacred island of Delos. It proclaimed that the three best things in life are \\\"Justice, Health, and Achieving One's Desires.\\\" Aristotle trenchantly disagrees. According to him, the ultimate goal of human life is, simply, happiness, which means finding a purpose in order to realize your potential and working on your behavior to become the best version of yourself. You are your own moral agent, but act in an interconnected world where partnerships with other people are of great significance.

Aristotle's own teacher was Plato, himself the disciple of Socrates who famously said \\\"the unexamined life is not worth living.\\\" Aristotle regarded this is as somewhat harsh. He knew that many people-perhaps the majority-live intuitively and often unreflectively, but they enjoy great happiness, on \\\"autopilot\\\" as it were. He would have shifted the emphasis to practical activity and to the future, and his alternative motto might have been: \\\"the unplanned life is unlikely to be fully happy.\\\"

Aristotelian ethics put the individual in charge. As Abraham Lincoln saw, \\\"Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.\\\" Rather than working on autopilot, Aristotelian ethics put you as sole pilot at the full control panel. Other ethical systems place far less emphasis either on your individual moral agency or on your responsibilities toward others. Aristotelian ethics share the starting point of the moral agent with ethical egoism, associated with the early modern philosopher Bernard Mandeville (1670-1733), but nothing else. This system recommends that every individual consciously act so as to maximize their own self-interest. Imagine you are hosting a tea party for ten of your neighbors. You know that two are vegans. But vegan sandwiches are three times as expensive as ham sandwiches. If you buy two servings of vegan sandwiches, there will be less food all round for everybody. The egoist would ignore everyone else's needs and choose whether to cater for the vegans depending on her own personal eating habits. If she were not a vegan, then she would certainly not want her helping of ham sandwiches diminished by having to cater for anyone else's different preference. If she were a vegan, then she would ignore the deprivation suffered by all eight carnivores receiving smaller helpings and simply ensure that there was plenty of vegan food available for herself, and order a private extra serving.

Utilitarians, on the other hand, seek to maximize the happiness of the greatest number, thus focusing on consequences of actions: for utilitarians, a result involving eight happy carnivores completely trumps the accompanying problem of two miserable vegans. Utilitarianism gets difficult when the minorities are very large: a tea party with, say, four miserable vegans and only six happy carnivores would begin to feel decidedly unfestive. Followers of Immanuel Kant emphasize duties and obligations, asking whether there should be a universal and fixed law about the proportion of different kinds of sandwiches available at tea parties. Cultural relativists, on the other hand, have insisted that there is no such thing as a universal moral law. Everyone, they say, belongs to a group or groups which do have their own internal laws and customs. Across the planet, there are many cultures and communities which eat no pig products at all; there are others which cannot comprehend vegetarianism or even tea parties.

Aristotle would instead realize that the decision about the sandwiches could not be made abstractly in a vacuum. He would set aside time to think about the problem and make plans. He would look behind catering plans to make his intention conscious-if it is to make all ten neighbors feel welcomed and well fed, because that would make the whole community nicer for everyone to live in, conducing to individual and collective happiness, then his decision would need to maximize the possibility of that intention being fulfilled. There would be little point in offending even a minority of the guests. He would then consult interested persons, including the invitees and the caterers, to test the water on possible reactions. He would think about previous parties he had held or experienced, review precedents and very likely discover a way round the whole problem from looking at the history of tea parties-serving non-dairy cakes which everyone liked, for example, rather than the divisive sandwiches. He would also make sure that he personally enjoyed the types of cake he then chose, because unnecessary self-denial has no place in his philosophy of respect toward self and others.

Aristotle's ethical system is versatile, flexible and practical to implement in daily life. Most of the real-world psychological steps toward increasing contentment outlined by psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky in The How of Happiness: A Practical Guide to Getting the Life You Want (2007) bear a startling resemblance to Aristotle's philosophical recommendations, and she indeed cites him with approval. His leitmotifs are working with the situation you find at hand, forethought, an unrelenting focus on intentions, flexibility, practical common sense, individual autonomy and the importance of consultation with others. The basic premise of Aristotle's notion of happiness is wonderfully simple and democratic: everyone can decide to be happy. After a certain amount of time, acting rightly becomes ingrained as a habit, so you feel good about yourself, and the resulting state of mind is one of eudaimonia, Aristotle's word for happiness.

This Aristotelian pursuit of eudaimonia is often attractive to agnostics and atheists, but is in fact compatible with any religion which emphasizes the individual's moral responsibility for their own actions and does not assume that frequent guidance, reward or punishment come from any external divine being. But since Aristotle himself did not believe that god interfered in the world or was interested in it in any way, his program for achieving happiness was a system in itself. The Aristotelian will not expect to find rules about tea parties in any sacred text. But she will not expect to be hit by god-sent retribution if her tea party goes badly wrong, either. Living in a competent and planned manner is something you elect to do to control your life and destiny. Since this control is traditionally assigned to a god or the gods, there is a sense in which it can make you \\\"godlike.\\\"

Eudaimonia, however, is not so simple to explain. The eu- prefix (pronounced like \\\"you\\\") means \\\"well\\\" or \\\"good\\\"; the daimonia element comes from a word with a whole range of meanings-divine being, divine power, guardian spirit, fortune or lot in life. So eudaimonia came to mean well-being or prosperity, which certainly includes contentment. But it is far more active than \\\"contentment.\\\" You \\\"do\\\" eudaimonia; it requires positive input. In fact, for Aristotle, happiness is activity (praxis). He points out that if it were an emotional disposition which some people are either born with or not, then it could be possessed by a man who spent his life asleep, \\\"living the life of a vegetable.\\\"

Aristotle's definition of happiness is not constituted by material prosperity of any kind either. A century earlier, another northern Greek thinker, Democritus, whom Aristotle admired, had talked about \\\"happiness of the soul,\\\" and had insisted that it definitely did not derive from the possession of livestock or gold. When Aristotle uses the word eudaimonia, he likewise means \\\"happiness of the soul,\\\" as experienced in the consciousness of the sentient human. According to him, life itself consists of having an active mind. Aristotle was convinced that most people get most of their pleasure from learning things and wondering about and at the world. Indeed, he regarded the attainment of an understanding of the world-not just academic knowledge, but understanding of any aspect of experience-as the actual goal of life itself.

If you believe that the goal of human life is to maximize happiness, then you are a budding Aristotelian. If the goal of human life is happiness, the way to achieve it is by thinking hard about how to Live Well, or being alive in the best way possible. This requires self-conscious habit, which Aristotle does not think other animals are capable of. The deceptively simple adverb \\\"well\\\" can mean \\\"competently\\\" in a practical sense, \\\"morally\\\" in terms of being kind, and \\\"fortunately\\\" or \\\"with felicity\\\" in terms of enjoying happiness and pleasant circumstances.

On 4 July 1776, the brand new United States Congress ratified the text of the Declaration of Independence drawn up by Thomas Jefferson. Its epoch-making first sentence reads: \\\"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.\\\" It is well known that the ancient Roman Republic was a model for the Founding Fathers of America, but that telling phrase \\\"the pursuit of Happiness\\\" shows that Jefferson was immersed in the philosophy of Aristotle as well. Four years later the constitution of Massachusetts (1780) followed suit: government is instituted for the common good, \\\"for the protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness of the people.\\\"

Aristotle believed that the way we educate future citizens is crucial to whether they can fulfill their potential both as individuals and in communities. The 1787 Northwest Ordinance could not have sounded more Aristotelian when it stated that schools were necessary to \\\"good government and the happiness of mankind.\\\" Everyone in the world who lives in broad agreement with the principles that were espoused in the bright new dawn of American independence is, whether they know it or not, an Aristotelian committed to the project of human happiness.

The most famous statement by Aristotle-so famous that it was (inaccurately) quoted in an exchange between Pope Francis and Donald Trump in February 2016-is that man is a \\\"political animal\\\" (zoon politikon). Aristotle meant that man is distinguished from other animals by naturally tending toward gathering together to live in a large settled community, a polis, or city-state. Aristotle always arrives at definitions by making a series of distinctions, and in his Nicomachean Ethics he asks crucially: what are the distinctive features of the human being? Humans, like animals and plants, partake in the basic activity of living, obtaining nutrients and growing. If other animals and plants live, get nourishment and grow, then this is not distinctive to humanity. Animals, like humans, also have senses with which they discern the world around them and other creatures. So sentient life can't be the distinctive and definitive feature of being human, either. But no other living being shares \\\"the active life of the being that has reason.\\\" Humans do things, and are able to think before, during and after these activities. That is the human raison d'?tre. If you, as a human being, don't fulfill your ability to act while exercising your rational faculties, then you are not fulfilling your potential.

Exercising your reason to Live Well means cultivating virtues and avoiding vices. Being a good person will make you happier. There is a reason why Frank Capra's feel-good fantasy It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is the most popular Christmas movie of all time: its message resonates so deeply with the generous and cooperative values most humans share. George Bailey, played by James Stewart, is a troubled philanthropic businessman, persecuted by a rapacious capitalist. He is planning suicide on Christmas Eve. A guardian angel, Clarence, arrives from heaven, and through flashbacks shows George episodes from his past life where he has unselfishly helped others; he has been a devoted family member and offered loans allowing the poor to buy their own houses. Clarence persuades George out of suicide by showing him an alternative version of history in which he had never existed, his family had been deprived of him and the poor had to live in slums. George sees that his \\\"wonderful life\\\" had connected him to other people by his efforts to support them. The movie is also Aristotelian in that it presents life as a project, a continuous arc, which is as wonderful as we choose to make it. However cheesy the film may now seem, it strikes an authentic emotional chord.

La Promesse (1996), by Belgian filmmakers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, eschews all sentimentality, showing how a young person on the brink of adulthood, and full moral agency, learns the gratification of goodness. At the beginning of the film Igor is only fifteen years old, a trainee mechanic, but he faces an extreme ethical challenge and succeeds in establishing moral independence from his unscrupulous father. The plot involves the accidental death of an illegal immigrant and Igor's father's insistence that Igor help to conceal it. Igor comes to moral maturity and a degree of serenity by assisting the bereaved family in the face of an unfeeling father, feelings of guilt, social vulnerability and fear of the law.

The emphasis on the connection between happiness and virtuous action is one of the fundamental differences between Aristotle's recipe for happiness and that of the other philosophies such as egoism, utilitarianism and Kantianism. In his Politics, to illustrate the difficulty of achieving happiness without trying to be a good person, Aristotle offers an extreme caricature of the vice-ridden and consequently miserable person:

Nobody would call a man ideally happy that has not got a particle of courage nor of self-control nor of decency nor sense, but is afraid of the flies that flutter by him, cannot refrain from any of the most outrageous actions in order to gratify a desire to eat or to drink, ruins his dearest friends for the sake of a penny, and also in matters of the intellect, similarly, is as senseless and mistaken as any infant or lunatic.

George Washington put the same virtue/happiness correlation differently in his 1789 inaugural speech, when he told his New York City audience that there is \\\"an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness.\\\"

Deciding to pursue happiness by Living Well means practicing \\\"virtue ethics\\\" or more simply \\\"Doing the Right Thing.\\\" Aristotle's virtues, likewise, are translated into portentous nouns like \\\"justice,\\\" which really just means treating other people fairly and decently. Virtue ethics have always attracted humanists, agnostics, atheists and skeptics precisely because they offer, to people who want to live contented, decent and constructive lives, a considered way in which to do so. Virtue ethics will help you approach decisions, morality, and the \\\"big questions\\\" about life and death, trusting in your own judgment and ability to look after yourself, your friends and your dependants. But the lack of idiomatic translations of the Greek has been one reason why Aristotle's sensible and effective program of pursuing happiness through deciding to Do the Right Thing has not become more widely understood among the general public. If people understood that personal happiness was down to their own conduct, then happiness, he wrote, would become \\\"more common because it would be possible for more people to share it.\\\" Aristotle goes so far as to say that, ideally, \\\"all humankind would be seen to be in agreement with the views that will be stated,\\\" but, failing that, they should sign up to at least part of the program entailed by virtue ethics, \\\"for everyone has something to contribute.\\\"\"},{\"id\":\"59512710T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":\"John Kaag\",\"sourceName\":\"The New York Times Book Review\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"There is a pernicious, but widely held, belief that turning over a new leaf always involves turning our worlds upside down, that living a happy, well-adjusted life entails acts of monkish discipline or heroic strength. The genre of self-help lives and dies on this fanaticism…In our culture, virtuous moderation and prudence rarely sell but, taking her cues from Aristotle, Hall offers a set of reasons to explain why they should. [Aristotle's Way] clears a rare middle way for her reader to pursue happiness, what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia, usually translated as well-being or prosperity. This prosperity has nothing to do with the modern obsession with material success but rather \\\"finding a purpose in order to realize your potential and working on your behavior to become the best version of yourself.\\\" It sounds platitudinous enough, but it isn't, thanks to Hall's tight yet modest prose…Hall excels when she is at her most frank. For Aristotle, there is latitude when it comes to which endeavors merit our pursuit, but authenticity and self-knowledge are nonnegotiable.\"},{\"id\":\"75706774T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Edith Hall is a professor in the Department of Classics and Ancient History at Durham University. She is the author of numerous books, including Aristotle's Way, the Ancient Greeks, and Me. She lives in Cambridgeshire, UK.\"},{\"id\":\"56038811T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Edith Hall first encountered Aristotle when she was twenty, and he changed her life forever. Now one of Britain's foremost classicists, and a Professor at King's College London, she is the first woman to have won the Erasmus Medal of the European Academy. In 2017 she was awarded an Honorary Doctorate from Athens University, just a few streets away from Aristotle's own Lyceum. She is the author of several books, including Introducing the Ancient Greeks. She lives with her family in Cambridgeshire.\"}]",{"_41":2397,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2398},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198436188401","Aristotles-Way/Edith-Hall",{"_41":2400,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2401},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198433239281","1128615831",{"_41":2403,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198434681073",{"_41":2405,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2355},"gid://shopify/Metafield/41198431797489",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2407,"_72":2408,"_946":947,"_829":2409,"_937":2410,"_935":2411,"_2358":2412,"_948":2417,"_980":59,"_958":2420,"_2371":2423,"_1041":2432,"_1003":2434,"_1072":2435},"gid://shopify/Product/8846704148721","The Odyssey: Translated by Emily Wilson","9780393356250","Homer’s great epic of a hero’s journey home—inspiration for the major motion picture by Christopher Nolan—in a bold, contemporary, and refreshingly readable translation.\"Wilson’s language is fresh, unpretentious and lean. . . . It is rare to find a translation that is at once so effortlessly easy to read and so rigorously considered.\" —Madeline Miller, author of CirceComposed at the rosy-fingered dawn of world literature almost three millennia ago, The Odyssey is a poem about violence and the aftermath of war; about wealth, poverty, and power; about marriage and family; about travelers, hospitality, and the yearning for home.This fresh, authoritative translation captures the beauty of this ancient poem as well as the drama of its narrative. Its characters are unforgettable, none more so than the “complicated” hero himself, a man of many disguises, many tricks, and many moods, who emerges in this version as a more fully rounded human being than ever before.Written in iambic pentameter verse and a vivid, contemporary idiom, Emily Wilson’s Odyssey sings with a voice that echoes the epic’s music, sailing along at Homer’s swift, smooth pace.A fascinating, informative introduction explores the Bronze Age milieu that produced the epic, the poem’s major themes, the controversies about its origins, and the unparalleled scope of its impact and influence. Maps drawn especially for this volume, a pronunciation glossary, and extensive notes and summaries of each book make this an Odyssey that will be treasured by a new generation of readers.","

Homer’s great epic of a hero’s journey home—inspiration for the major motion picture by Christopher Nolan—in a bold, contemporary, and refreshingly readable translation.

\"Wilson’s language is fresh, unpretentious and lean. . . . It is rare to find a translation that is at once so effortlessly easy to read and so rigorously considered.\" —Madeline Miller, author of Circe

Composed at the rosy-fingered dawn of world literature almost three millennia ago, The Odyssey is a poem about violence and the aftermath of war; about wealth, poverty, and power; about marriage and family; about travelers, hospitality, and the yearning for home.

This fresh, authoritative translation captures the beauty of this ancient poem as well as the drama of its narrative. Its characters are unforgettable, none more so than the “complicated” hero himself, a man of many disguises, many tricks, and many moods, who emerges in this version as a more fully rounded human being than ever before.

Written in iambic pentameter verse and a vivid, contemporary idiom, Emily Wilson’s Odyssey sings with a voice that echoes the epic’s music, sailing along at Homer’s swift, smooth pace.

A fascinating, informative introduction explores the Bronze Age milieu that produced the epic, the poem’s major themes, the controversies about its origins, and the unparalleled scope of its impact and influence. Maps drawn especially for this volume, a pronunciation glossary, and extensive notes and summaries of each book make this an Odyssey that will be treasured by a new generation of readers.

",{"_41":2413,"_54":2414,"_56":2415,"_50":2416,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47499458117873","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780393356250_p0.jpg?v=1764986319",596,896,{"_950":2418},{"_952":2419,"_954":955},"18.95",{"_950":2421,"_956":2422},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":2424},[2425],{"_41":2426,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":2427,"_983":2428,"_928":2429,"_986":2430,"_990":2409,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46244689641713",{"_41":2413,"_54":2414,"_2364":-5,"_56":2415,"_50":2416},{"_952":2419,"_954":955},{"_72":2408,"_829":2409},[2431],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2433},"[\"High School & College (p9064)\",\"Page & Screen (p4180)\",\"Classroom Literature & Nonfiction (p5500)\",\"B|Bestseller|#007C6C (p7858)\",\"Recently Reviewed (p10276)\",\"The Books You've Always Meant to Read (p10565)\",\"BADGE - Best Seller (p7883)\"]",{"_989":2409},[2436,-5,-5,2439,2441,-5,2443,2445,2448,2451,2454,-5,2456,2458,-5,2460,2465],{"_41":2437,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2438},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660661047537","[{\"contributorId\":10988,\"fullName\":\"Homer\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":1909727,\"fullName\":\"Emily Wilson\",\"jobName\":\"Translator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":2440,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660661735665",{"_41":2442,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660660752625",{"_41":2444,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660661833969",{"_41":2446,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2447},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660663374065","[{\"id\":\"114583242T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"A masterpiece of translation.\\\"- Rowan Williams, University of Cambridge

\\\"A revelation. Never have I been so aware at once of the beauty of the poetry, the physicality of Homer's world, and the moral ambiguity of those who inhabit it.\\\"- Susan Chira New York Times Book Review

\\\"Emily Wilson's crisp and musical version is a cultural landmark.... This translation will change the way the poem is read in English.\\\"- Charlotte Higgins Guardian

\\\"In the history of Odyssey translations, few have exerted such a cultural influence that they become 'classics' in their own right.... I predict that Emily Wilson will win a place in this roll-call of the most significant translations of the poem in history. She certainly deserves the honour.\\\"- Edith Hall Daily Telegraph

\\\"Emily Wilson has given us a staggeringly superior translation-true, poetic, lively and readable, and always closely engaged with the original Greek-that brings to life the fascinating variety of voices in Homer's great epic.\\\"- Richard F. Thomas, Harvard University

\\\"When I first read these lines..., I was floored. I'd never read an Odyssey that sounded like this. It had such directness, the lines feeling not as if they were being fed into iambic pentameter because of some strategic decision but because the meter was a natural mode for its speaker.\\\"- Wyatt Mason New York Times Magazine

\\\"In her powerful new translation, Emily Wilson... has chosen immediacy and naturalism over majestic formality. She preserves the musicality of Homer's poetry, opting for an iambic pentameter whose approachable storytelling tone invites us in, only to startle us with eruptions of beauty.... Wilson's transformation of such a familiar and foundational work is... astonishing.\\\"- Rebecca Newberger Goldstein Atlantic

\\\"Wilson's translation is a superb achievement and a striking departure from the tradition of Homeric translation into English.... There is no elaborate or antiquated diction, just a crispness and clear-headedness that will seem quite alien to anyone familiar with earlier versions.... Wilson has produced a wonderfully distinctive-and modern-version of the poem.\\\"- Henry Power Evening Standard

\\\"Irresistibly readable, Wilson's Odyssey turns Homeric epic into a poetic feast.\\\"- Froma Zeitlin, Princeton University

\\\"This translation is a marvel! Bold and timely and ever so exciting.... As majestic as literature gets.\\\"- Max Porter, author of Grief Is the Thing With Feathers\"},{\"id\":\"114583241T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"2018 American Literary Translators Association National Translation Award, Short-listed
2018 New York Times Notable Selection, Commended
\"},{\"id\":\"131390838T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

For centuries, The Odyssey has enthralled readers with its unforgettable tale of adventure. Follow Odysseus and his crew as they outsmart a Cyclops, resist the Sirens' deadly song, and confront the mythical creatures that stand between them and home. Told in beautiful verse, this enduring epic invites you to embark on the legendary voyage back to Ithaca.

\"},{\"id\":\"131642525T\",\"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\":\"131642529T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

HOMER’s identity is shrouded in mystery. Most scholars agree that an epic poet named Homer likely existed anywhere between 900 to 700 B.C.E. Legend, originating in antiquity, says that Homer was a blind bard from Ionia, but no account of Homer’s life can be verified. The Iliad and The Odyssey, the two epic poems attributed to Homer, which take place during the Trojan War and its aftermath, were derived from the oral storytelling tradition. Their method of composition—either by a single author or several bards working in tandem—remains unknown. The Homeric Poems are among the most significant narratives in the Greek and Western literary canon.

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a fellow of the American Academy in Rome, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a MacArthur Fellow. In addition to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.

\"},{\"id\":\"66679341T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"},{\"id\":\"114583245T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

HOMER's identity is shrouded in mystery. Most scholars agree that an epic poet named Homer likely existed anywhere between 900 to 700 B.C.E. Legend, originating in antiquity, says that Homer was a blind bard from Ionia, but no account of Homer's life can be verified. The Iliad and The Odyssey, the two epic poems attributed to Homer, which take place during the Trojan War and its aftermath, were derived from the oral storytelling tradition. Their method of composition-either by a single author or several bards working in tandem-remains unknown. The Homeric Poems are among the most significant narratives in the Greek and Western literary canon.

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a fellow of the American Academy in Rome, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a MacArthur Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.

\"},{\"id\":\"114583243T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a fellow of the American Academy in Rome, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a MacArthur Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.

\"},{\"id\":\"58365023T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"},{\"id\":\"108802238T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"}]",{"_41":2449,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2450},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660662915313","The-Odyssey/Homer",{"_41":2452,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2453},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660660556017","1129773507",{"_41":2455,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660661571825",{"_41":2457,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2433},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660663537905",{"_41":2459,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2409},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39660659474673",{"_41":2461,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2464},"gid://shopify/Metafield/64062113808625","reviews","rating","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.3\"}",{"_41":2466,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":899},"gid://shopify/Metafield/64062113775857","rating_count",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2469,"_72":2470,"_946":947,"_829":2471,"_937":2472,"_935":2473,"_2358":2474,"_948":2479,"_980":59,"_958":2482,"_2371":2485,"_1041":2494,"_1003":2496,"_1072":2497},"gid://shopify/Product/8833363902705","Pandora's Jar: Women in the Greek Myths","9780063139466","NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER\"Funny, sharp explications of what these sometimes not-very-nice women were up to, and how they sometimes made idiots of . . . but read on!\"-Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid's TaleThe national bestselling author of A Thousand Ships returns with a fascinating, eye-opening take on the remarkable women at the heart of classical stories Greek mythology from Helen of Troy to Pandora and the Amazons to Medea.In the world of ancient Greece, the tellers of myths-historically men-have routinely sidelined the female characters. When they do take a larger role, women are often portrayed as monstrous, vengeful or just plain evil-like Pandora, the woman of eternal scorn and damnation whose curiosity is tasked with causing all the world's suffering and wickedness when she opened that forbidden box. But, as Natalie Haynes reveals, in ancient Greek myths there was no box. It was a jar . . . which is far more likely to tip over.In Pandora's Jar, the broadcaster, writer, stand-up comedian, and passionate classicist turns the tables on classical mythology, putting the women of the Greek myths on an equal footing with the men. With wit, humor, and savvy, Haynes revolutionizes our understanding of epic poems, stories, and plays in this engaging feminist retelling, resurrecting them from a woman's perspective and tracing the origins of their mythic female characters. She looks at women such as Jocasta, Oedipus' mother-turned-lover-and-wife (turned Freudian sticking point), at once the cleverest person in the story and yet often unnoticed. She considers Helen of Troy, whose marriage to Paris \"caused\" the Trojan war-a somewhat uneven response to her decision to leave her husband for another man. She demonstrates how the vilified Medea was like an ancient Beyonce-getting her revenge on the man who hurt and betrayed her, if by extreme measures. And she turns her eye to Medusa, the original monstered woman, whose stare turned men to stone, but who wasn't always a monster, and had her hair turned to snakes as punishment for being raped.Pandora's Jar brings nuance and care to the millennia-old myths and legends and asks the question: Why are we so quick to villainize these women of Greek myth in the first place-and so eager to accept the stories we've been told? Mythology Retold: Discover why Pandora didn't have a box but a jar (far more likely to tip over), and how that simple mistranslation changed our view of the world's first woman. Feminist History: Explore how the stories of powerful figures were reshaped by the men who told them, turning characters like the monstrous Medusa into victims punished for being assaulted. Unique Angles on Classic Tales: See the women of myth in a new light, from the vilified Medea-reimagined as an ancient Beyoncé getting revenge-to Helen of Troy, whose choice of husband resulted in a somewhat uneven response. Accessible Classical Studies: Join a passionate classicist and comedian as she reveals the cleverness of Jocasta, the nuance of Clytemnestra, and the truth behind the formidable women we thought we knew.","

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

\"Funny, sharp explications of what these sometimes not-very-nice women were up to, and how they sometimes made idiots of . . . but read on!\"-Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid's Tale

The national bestselling author of A Thousand Ships returns with a fascinating, eye-opening take on the remarkable women at the heart of classical stories Greek mythology from Helen of Troy to Pandora and the Amazons to Medea.

In the world of ancient Greece, the tellers of myths-historically men-have routinely sidelined the female characters. When they do take a larger role, women are often portrayed as monstrous, vengeful or just plain evil-like Pandora, the woman of eternal scorn and damnation whose curiosity is tasked with causing all the world's suffering and wickedness when she opened that forbidden box. But, as Natalie Haynes reveals, in ancient Greek myths there was no box. It was a jar . . . which is far more likely to tip over.

In Pandora's Jar, the broadcaster, writer, stand-up comedian, and passionate classicist turns the tables on classical mythology, putting the women of the Greek myths on an equal footing with the men. With wit, humor, and savvy, Haynes revolutionizes our understanding of epic poems, stories, and plays in this engaging feminist retelling, resurrecting them from a woman's perspective and tracing the origins of their mythic female characters. She looks at women such as Jocasta, Oedipus' mother-turned-lover-and-wife (turned Freudian sticking point), at once the cleverest person in the story and yet often unnoticed. She considers Helen of Troy, whose marriage to Paris \"caused\" the Trojan war-a somewhat uneven response to her decision to leave her husband for another man. She demonstrates how the vilified Medea was like an ancient Beyonce-getting her revenge on the man who hurt and betrayed her, if by extreme measures. And she turns her eye to Medusa, the original monstered woman, whose stare turned men to stone, but who wasn't always a monster, and had her hair turned to snakes as punishment for being raped.

Pandora's Jar brings nuance and care to the millennia-old myths and legends and asks the question: Why are we so quick to villainize these women of Greek myth in the first place-and so eager to accept the stories we've been told?

\nMythology Retold: Discover why Pandora didn't have a box but a jar (far more likely to tip over), and how that simple mistranslation changed our view of the world's first woman.
\nFeminist History: Explore how the stories of powerful figures were reshaped by the men who told them, turning characters like the monstrous Medusa into victims punished for being assaulted.
\nUnique Angles on Classic Tales: See the women of myth in a new light, from the vilified Medea-reimagined as an ancient Beyoncé getting revenge-to Helen of Troy, whose choice of husband resulted in a somewhat uneven response.
\nAccessible Classical Studies: Join a passionate classicist and comedian as she reveals the cleverness of Jocasta, the nuance of Clytemnestra, and the truth behind the formidable women we thought we knew.

",{"_41":2475,"_54":2476,"_56":2477,"_50":2478,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47634749194481","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063139466_p0.jpg?v=1768986910",1324,1996,{"_950":2480},{"_952":2481,"_954":955},"18.99",{"_950":2483,"_956":2484},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":2486},[2487],{"_41":2488,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":2489,"_983":2490,"_928":2491,"_986":2492,"_990":2471,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229218001137",{"_41":2475,"_54":2476,"_2364":-5,"_56":2477,"_50":2478},{"_952":2481,"_954":955},{"_72":2470,"_829":2471},[2493],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2495},"[\"Reimaginings & Retellings (p9713)\"]",{"_989":2471},[2498,-5,-5,2501,2503,-5,2505,2507,2510,2513,2516,-5,2518,2520,-5,2522,2524],{"_41":2499,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2500},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014531727601","[{\"contributorId\":11450841,\"fullName\":\"Natalie Haynes\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2502,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014532088049",{"_41":2504,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014531498225",{"_41":2506,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014532153585",{"_41":2508,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2509},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014533366001","[{\"id\":\"118511828T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

\\\"Witty and frequently surprising.\\\" - Times Literary Supplement

\\\"Agile, rich, subversive, Pandora's Jar proves that the classics are far from dead, and keep evolving with us.\\\" - Mail on Sunday

\\\"Engaged, engaging and fun.\\\" - Herald

\\\"Packed with wry humor and scholarly insight, Pandora's Jar shines a new light on our oldest stories, illuminating its subjects in all their painful complexity.\\\" - Booklist

\\\"Classicist Haynes challenges common ideas about Greek mythology in this sharp corrective. . . . When she hits her stride and seamlessly blends historical, textual, and artistic analysis, her survey sings. Even those casually familiar with Greek mythology will find this enriching.\\\" - Publishers Weekly

\\\"Throughout, Haynes also notes that these often outlandish retellings and related tropes have become (flawed) inspirations for works of modern art, music, and film, including the original Star Trek series, an episode of The Simpsons, Pulp Fiction, and a music video by Beyoncé . . . Readers of all levels of knowledge are certain to be enthralled with her analysis and find her humor and wit captivating. A fun and informative addition to the ongoing consideration of ancient mythology.\\\" - Kirkus Reviews

\\\"A classicist revisits the tales of 10 mythological women from a female perspective, adding a new depth and nuance to the stories of Helen of Troy, Medea, Medusa and others.\\\" - New York Times

\\\"Impassioned and informed . . . When Haynes gets down to retelling the stories . . . and teasing out their distortions and elisions, the book flies.\\\" - Sunday Times (UK)

\\\"Natalie Haynes is beyond brilliant. Pandora's Jar is a treasure box of classical delights. Never has ancient misogyny been presented with so much wit and style.\\\" - Amanda Foreman, author of The World Made by Women

\\\"Beyoncé, Star Trek, Ray Harryhausen . . . the most enjoyable book about Greek myths you will ever read, absolutely brimming with subversive enthusiasm.\\\" - Mark Haddon, author of The Porpoise and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

\\\"Witty, erudite and subversive, this takes the women of Greek myth―the women who are sidelined, vilified, misunderstood or ignored―and puts them centre stage.\\\" - Samantha Ellis, author of How to Be a Heroine and Take Courage

\\\"Natalie Haynes is [Britain's] muse.\\\" - Adam Rutherford, author of How to Argue with a Racist

\\\"An erudite, funny and sometimes angry attempt to fill in the blank spaces.\\\" - Observer

\\\"Funny, sharp explications of what these sometimes not-very-nice women were up to, and how they sometimes made idiots of . . . but read on!\\\" - Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid's Tale

\\\"A hugely enjoyable and witty book, which will appeal to admirers of novels such as Madeline Miller's Circe, Kamila Shamsie's Home Fire, and Haynes's own fiction.\\\" - The Guardian

\\\"Natalie Haynes is both a witty and an erudite guide. She wears her extensive learning lightly and deftly drags the Classics into the modern world. I loved it.\\\" - Kate Atkinson, author of Life After Life

\"},{\"id\":\"131721131T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\\\"Witty and frequently surprising.\\\" - Times Literary Supplement

\\\"Agile, rich, subversive, Pandora's Jar proves that the classics are far from dead, and keep evolving with us.\\\" - Mail on Sunday

\\\"Engaged, engaging and fun.\\\" - Herald

\\\"Packed with wry humor and scholarly insight, Pandora's Jar shines a new light on our oldest stories, illuminating its subjects in all their painful complexity.\\\" - Booklist

\\\"Impassioned and informed . . . When Haynes gets down to retelling the stories . . . and teasing out their distortions and elisions, the book flies.\\\" - Sunday Times (UK)

\\\"Natalie Haynes is [Britain's] muse.\\\" - Adam Rutherford, author of How to Argue with a Racist

\\\"An erudite, funny and sometimes angry attempt to fill in the blank spaces.\\\" - Observer

\\\"A hugely enjoyable and witty book, which will appeal to admirers of novels such as Madeline Miller's Circe, Kamila Shamsie's Home Fire, and Haynes's own fiction.\\\" - The Guardian

\"},{\"id\":\"83019226T\",\"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 the author of A Thousand Ships comes a sharp and witty correction to the popularly known Greek myths. Centering on the women often villainized or pushed to the side, this book flips the narrative on its head, giving the women the same weight as the men in classic Greek myths. Natalie Haynes’ brilliant book makes readers question why they were so quick to accept the stories they’ve been told.

\"},{\"id\":\"118824084T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Natalie Haynes is the author of eight books, including the nonfiction work Pandora's Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short-listed for the 2020 Women's Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded twelve series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, The Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"76721265T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Natalie Haynes is the author of eight books, including the nonfiction work Pandora’s Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short—listed for the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded eleven series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, The Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"104839675T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Natalie Haynes is the author of six books, including the nonfiction work Pandora’s Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short-listed for the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded nine series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, the Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"108832122T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Natalie Haynes is the author of six books, including the nonfiction work Pandora's Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short-listed for the 2020 Women's Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded nine series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, the Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"118511830T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

Natalie Haynes is the author of eight books, including the nonfiction work Pandora’s Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short-listed for the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded twelve series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, The Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"},{\"id\":\"76721167T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"Natalie Haynes is the author of eight books, including the nonfiction work Pandora’s Jar, which was a New York Times bestseller, and the novels A Thousand Ships, which was a national bestseller and short—listed for the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction, and Stone Blind. She has written and recorded eleven series of Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics for the BBC. Haynes has written for the Times, the Independent, The Guardian, and the Observer. She lives in London.

\"}]",{"_41":2511,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2512},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014532907249","Pandoras-Jar/Natalie-Haynes",{"_41":2514,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2515},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014531268849","1139607604",{"_41":2517,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014532022513",{"_41":2519,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2495},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014533497073",{"_41":2521,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2471},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39014530023665",{"_41":2523,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2464},"gid://shopify/Metafield/63924872380657",{"_41":2525,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":2526},"gid://shopify/Metafield/63924872347889","3",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2528,"_72":2529,"_946":947,"_829":2530,"_937":2531,"_935":2532,"_2358":2533,"_948":2537,"_980":59,"_958":2540,"_2371":2543,"_1041":2552,"_1003":2554,"_1072":2555},"gid://shopify/Product/8846725021937","The Iliad: Translated by Emily Wilson","9781324076148","\"Wilson's Iliad is clear and brisk, its iambic pentameter a zone of enchantment.\" -Ange Mlinko, London Review of Books The greatest literary landmark of antiquity masterfully rendered by the most celebrated translator of our time.When Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey appeared in 2017-revealing the ancient poem in a contemporary idiom that was \"fresh, unpretentious and lean\" (Madeline Miller, Washington Post)-critics lauded it as \"a revelation\" (Susan Chira, New York Times) and \"a cultural landmark\" (Charlotte Higgins, Guardian) that would forever change how Homer is read in English. Now Wilson has returned with an equally revelatory translation of Homer's other great epic-the most revered war poem of all time.The Iliad roars with the clamor of arms, the bellowing boasts of victors, the fury and grief of loss, and the anguished cries of dying men. It sings, too, of the sublime magnitude of the world-the fierce beauty of nature and the gods' grand schemes beyond the ken of mortals. In Wilson's hands, this thrilling, magical, and often horrifying tale now gallops at a pace befitting its legendary battle scenes, in crisp but resonant language that evokes the poem's deep pathos and reveals palpably real, even \"complicated,\" characters-both human and divine.The culmination of a decade of intense engagement with antiquity's most surpassingly beautiful and emotionally complex poetry, Wilson's Iliad now gives us a complete Homer for our generation.","

\"Wilson's Iliad is clear and brisk, its iambic pentameter a zone of enchantment.\" -Ange Mlinko, London Review of Books

\n
The greatest literary landmark of antiquity masterfully rendered by the most celebrated translator of our time.

When Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey appeared in 2017-revealing the ancient poem in a contemporary idiom that was \"fresh, unpretentious and lean\" (Madeline Miller, Washington Post)-critics lauded it as \"a revelation\" (Susan Chira, New York Times) and \"a cultural landmark\" (Charlotte Higgins, Guardian) that would forever change how Homer is read in English. Now Wilson has returned with an equally revelatory translation of Homer's other great epic-the most revered war poem of all time.

The Iliad roars with the clamor of arms, the bellowing boasts of victors, the fury and grief of loss, and the anguished cries of dying men. It sings, too, of the sublime magnitude of the world-the fierce beauty of nature and the gods' grand schemes beyond the ken of mortals. In Wilson's hands, this thrilling, magical, and often horrifying tale now gallops at a pace befitting its legendary battle scenes, in crisp but resonant language that evokes the poem's deep pathos and reveals palpably real, even \"complicated,\" characters-both human and divine.

The culmination of a decade of intense engagement with antiquity's most surpassingly beautiful and emotionally complex poetry, Wilson's Iliad now gives us a complete Homer for our generation.

",{"_41":2534,"_54":2535,"_56":2536,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47619888054513","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781324076148_p0.jpg?v=1765226008",1364,{"_950":2538},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},"19.99",{"_950":2541,"_956":2542},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":2544},[2545],{"_41":2546,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":2547,"_983":2548,"_928":2549,"_986":2550,"_990":2530,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46244711006449",{"_41":2534,"_54":2535,"_2364":-5,"_56":2536,"_50":2363},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},{"_72":2529,"_829":2530},[2551],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2553},"[\"B|Bestseller|#007C6C (p7858)\",\"The Books You've Always Meant to Read (p10565)\",\"BADGE - Best Seller (p7883)\"]",{"_989":2530},[2556,-5,-5,2558,2560,-5,2562,2564,2567,2570,2573,-5,2575,2577,-5,2579,2582],{"_41":2557,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2438},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661683507441",{"_41":2559,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661683900657",{"_41":2561,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661683179761",{"_41":2563,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661683966193",{"_41":2565,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2566},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661684719857","[{\"id\":\"114576237T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"Wilson's style is like the proverbial mountain stream-clean and clear, and bubbling along at pace.... Wilson's strong authorial voice and open and accessible style...make this volume the definitive Iliad for our times. Readable, relevant and from the heart, this is the Iliad we have all been waiting for, whether we knew it or not.\\\"- Naoíse Mac Sweeney Washington Post

\\\"Wilson's admirers hoped that her second Homeric translation would be as great an achievement as the first. What they might not have expected is that it would be better.... Emily Wilson has not only produced fresh and limpid new translations of two foundational ancient poems. She has also given a new generation of readers the tools to approach Homer, with comfort and confidence, for the very first time. For those who knew the poems already, she lets Homer speak to them in a new voice.\\\"- Johanna Hanink Slate

\\\"Wilson's deep love for and understanding of the Iliad-by her own admission, the greater of her Homeric loves-shine through every page of this superb translation. The completion of her verse Homer amounts to nothing less than the renewal of an English poetic tradition.\\\"- Daniel Walden Bulwark

\\\"The experience of reading Homer must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of a new translation. In her version of The Iliad, [Emily] Wilson enlivens the epic with rich sanguinary nutrients.... The result is an Iliad of clarity and approachability, its violence rendered with brutal intimacy: Wilson's translation is zippy, and it zips the reader to a place and time of alien savagery.... [T]he vigor of language and vision is undeniable.\\\"- Atlantic

\\\"There's nothing stiff or cool about Emily Wilson's stirring translation of The Iliad, which whips and crackles beneath the familiar meter of loose iambic pentameter. Wilson tells it all in plain English, to elegant effect.... [S]he deftly coaxes the original's Dactylic hexameters into our own accentual tongue. We feel her joy, birthed by hard labor.... Wilson has pulled off a thrilling achievement, framing ancient questions in a fresh light.\\\"- Hamilton Cain Boston Globe

\\\"Superb. Emily Wilson's beautiful, fluent, memorable translation tells us once again that the Olympian gods and the would-be superhumans who want to emulate them are not yet dead in our world.\\\"- Rowan Williams New Statesman

\\\"Wilson is at her best when writing of the battlefield.... [S]he has a knack for the consonantal sounds of warfare. Her opening description of Achilles' anger, which will lead inexorably to more men's weapons clanging against metal, terms it 'cataclysmic wrath.' Her priority is those iambic Shakespearean rhythms: the beat makes this the perfect translation to read aloud.\\\"- Kate Maltby Financial Times

\\\"Wilson has again presented a Homer that sings, in sprightly iambic pentameter and pellucid language that avoids ponderosities like, well, ponderosities and pellucid.... The shortness of Wilson's lines...abetted by her unfussy diction and lyricism, are easy on the reader's eye and seem to help the mind grasp the breadth of Homer's canvas at any given moment while still marveling at details.... A masterful, highly readable rendering of the Greek classic.\\\"- Kirkus Reviews, starred review

\\\"Seduce[s] with its crystalline clarity, elegance, sensuality, sometimes breathless pace and above all emotional clout.\\\"- Edith Hall Guardian

\\\"Wilson achieves her register-at once plain spoken and slightly removed from everyday speech-partly by studiously avoiding contractions and allowing for metrically convenient epicisms like 'mighty,' mixed in with natural-seeming phrases like 'only just heard the news about the war.' The effect is not so much to bring the characters of the Iliad into the contemporary sphere, as to bring us into theirs.... Wilson has said that she is an Iliad person rather than an Odyssey one. And I have to say that for all that I enjoyed her Odyssey, I have been even more absorbed by her Iliad. It's a poem you read with your heart in your throat.\\\"- A. E. Stallings Spectator

\\\"The great virtue of this translation is its handling of action. In Wilson's verse the acts of the poem stand out in brilliant, clear Mediterranean light.... The lengthy battle scenes in Homer that a reader might well dread-they shine.... Aeschylus claimed that his tragedies were 'scraps from the great table of Homer,' and with Wilson the great tragedy of the poem is felt afresh.\\\"- John Byron Kuhner National Review

\\\"When she strikes the perfect balance between propulsive pacing, accessible language, and elevated sensibility, Wilson's translation is easy to keep reading. When she does this while also listening to the way words sound, it's even fun. Just as Keats, on first looking into Chapman's Homer, felt a sense of amazed discovery, so too will readers of Wilson's Iliad find fresh and absorbing clarity in this ancient poem.\\\"- Zoe Guttenplan Jacobin

\\\"Wilson's translation of Homeric Greek is always buoyant and expressive.... Wilson wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform. In Book 3, we meet Helen of Sparta, now Helen of Troy, 'weaving a massive double-layered cloth / in dazzling colors, patterning upon it / the many troubles, tests, and tribulations / that Trojan horsemen and bronze-armored Greeks / suffered at Ares' hands because of her.' It is a gorgeous moment in both the poem and the translation: the beautiful Helen revealed by Homer as the creator of a war narrative, just like him. The contemporary reader sees a double reflection: Helen at her loom, weaving the same story Homer is telling, the same one Wilson is weaving.\\\"- Natalie Haynes New York Times Book Review

\\\"Wilson's translation is vivid, lucid, pacy. Avoiding cliché, she renders Homeric phrases into natural, modern English counterparts. At its best, the urgent, almost claustrophobic lub-dub of the pentameter keeps up the frenetic energy of close combat, all the while sounding like natural English.... For those yet to encounter this violent, charming, disturbing, beautiful poem, now is the time.\\\"- Katherine Backler Tablet

\\\"Wilson's spin on the battlefield saga centered on the Trojan conflict is refreshing and bold.\\\"- Time

\\\"In Wilson's hands, the poem sings with the clash of bronze, the thundering of hooves, the savage holler of war-cries. Her use of iambic pentameter imbues it with irresistible pace and rhythm. It flows like music-exhilarating, tragic, beautiful and stirring.... Her use of language and imagery makes it a visual experience too; one of glittering metal and flame, full of searing light so that we feel entirely transported to an alien, ancient and terrifying world.... Running throughout is a humane, expressive connection of a truth we all know-the shattering inevitability of loss. Rediscovering it through Wilson's eyes brought me to tears all over again.\\\"- Jennifer Saint i newspaper

\\\"Wilson brings a rare combination of academic rigor and the lyricism of a born poet to one of Europe's most important texts, making ancient battles vivid and visceral and the language of Homer sing like few translators before.\\\"- Charlie Connelly New European

\\\"[Wilson] captures so brilliantly the fire and dread and bewilderment and rage of the poem. She wears her erudition beautifully: she matches it with such wit, precision and flair.\\\"- Katherine Rundell\"},{\"id\":\"114576236T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"2024 Runciman Award, Short-listed
\"},{\"id\":\"131396457T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Emily Wilson uses her accessible writing style to bring Homer’s epic poem to life in astonishing detail. Telling an emotionally complex story of war, loss and fury using fresh language, Wilson invites new readers to meet some of literature's most complex characters in The Iliad.

\"},{\"id\":\"91479000T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Emily Wilson made the news with her 2017 translation of The Odyssey. She brings a fresh take to one of our other oldest tales, inviting in new readers.

\"},{\"id\":\"114576240T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a fellow of the American Academy in Rome, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a MacArthur Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.

\"},{\"id\":\"88933412T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"},{\"id\":\"105902966T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"},{\"id\":\"114576238T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a fellow of the American Academy in Rome, a Guggenheim Fellow, and a MacArthur Fellow. In addition to Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.

\"},{\"id\":\"88933409T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. She has been named a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome in Renaissance and early modern studies, a MacArthur Fellow, and a Guggenheim Fellow. In addition to Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, she has also published translations of Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca. She lives in Philadelphia.\"}]",{"_41":2568,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2569},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661684490481","The-Iliad/Homer",{"_41":2571,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2572},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661682884849","1143278097",{"_41":2574,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661683835121",{"_41":2576,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2553},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661684785393",{"_41":2578,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2530},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39661681279217",{"_41":2580,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2581},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87401637314801","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.0\"}",{"_41":2583,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":1054},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87401637282033",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2585,"_72":2586,"_946":947,"_829":2587,"_937":2588,"_935":2589,"_2358":2590,"_948":2595,"_980":59,"_958":2597,"_2371":2600,"_1041":2609,"_1003":2611,"_1072":2612},"gid://shopify/Product/8846784463089","SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome","9781631492228","New York Times BestsellerA New York Times Notable BookNamed one of the Best Books of the Year by the Wall Street Journal, the Economist, Foreign Affairs, and Kirkus ReviewsFinalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award (Nonfiction)Shortlisted for the Cundill Prize in Historical LiteratureFinalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize (History)A San Francisco Chronicle Holiday Gift Guide SelectionA New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice SelectionA sweeping, \"magisterial\" history of the Roman Empire from one of our foremost classicists shows why Rome remains \"relevant to people many centuries later\" (Atlantic). In SPQR, an instant classic, Mary Beard narrates the history of Rome \"with passion and without technical jargon\" and demonstrates how \"a slightly shabby Iron Age village\" rose to become the \"undisputed hegemon of the Mediterranean\" (Wall Street Journal). Hailed by critics as animating \"the grand sweep and the intimate details that bring the distant past vividly to life\" (Economist) in a way that makes \"your hair stand on end\" (Christian Science Monitor) and spanning nearly a thousand years of history, this \"highly informative, highly readable\" (Dallas Morning News) work examines not just how we think of ancient Rome but challenges the comfortable historical perspectives that have existed for centuries. With its nuanced attention to class, democratic struggles, and the lives of entire groups of people omitted from the historical narrative for centuries, SPQR will to shape our view of Roman history for decades to come.","

New York Times Bestseller

A New York Times Notable Book
Named one of the Best Books of the Year by the Wall Street Journal, the Economist, Foreign Affairs, and Kirkus Reviews
Finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award (Nonfiction)
Shortlisted for the Cundill Prize in Historical Literature
Finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize (History)
A San Francisco Chronicle Holiday Gift Guide Selection
A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice Selection

A sweeping, \"magisterial\" history of the Roman Empire from one of our foremost classicists shows why Rome remains \"relevant to people many centuries later\" (Atlantic).

In SPQR, an instant classic, Mary Beard narrates the history of Rome \"with passion and without technical jargon\" and demonstrates how \"a slightly shabby Iron Age village\" rose to become the \"undisputed hegemon of the Mediterranean\" (Wall Street Journal). Hailed by critics as animating \"the grand sweep and the intimate details that bring the distant past vividly to life\" (Economist) in a way that makes \"your hair stand on end\" (Christian Science Monitor) and spanning nearly a thousand years of history, this \"highly informative, highly readable\" (Dallas Morning News) work examines not just how we think of ancient Rome but challenges the comfortable historical perspectives that have existed for centuries. With its nuanced attention to class, democratic struggles, and the lives of entire groups of people omitted from the historical narrative for centuries, SPQR will to shape our view of Roman history for decades to come.

",{"_41":2591,"_54":2592,"_56":2593,"_50":2594,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47444372160753","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781631492228_p0.jpg?v=1764882245",475,716,{"_950":2596},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},{"_950":2598,"_956":2599},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":2601},[2602],{"_41":2603,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":2604,"_983":2605,"_928":2606,"_986":2607,"_990":2587,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46244772086001",{"_41":2591,"_54":2592,"_2364":-5,"_56":2593,"_50":2594},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},{"_72":2586,"_829":2587},[2608],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2610},"[\"Celebrate Women's History Month (p10585)\",\"Classroom Literature & Nonfiction (p5500)\",\"The Books You've Always Meant to Read (p10565)\"]",{"_989":2587},[2613,-5,-5,2616,2618,-5,2620,2622,2625,2628,2631,-5,2633,2635,-5,2637,2640],{"_41":2614,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2615},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664598483185","[{\"contributorId\":291560,\"fullName\":\"Mary Beard\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2617,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664599171313",{"_41":2619,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664597893361",{"_41":2621,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664599302385",{"_41":2623,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2624},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664601628913","[{\"id\":\"114589165T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"Beard tells this story precisely and clearly, with passion and without technical jargon...SPQR is a grim success story, but one told with wonderful flair.\\\"- Greg Woolf Wall Street Journal

\\\"Though she here claims that 50 years of training and study have led up to SPQR, Beard wears her learning lightly. As she takes us through the brothels, bars, and back alleys where the populus Romanus left their imprint, one senses, above all, that she is having fun.\\\"- James Romm New Republic

\\\"By the time Beard has finished, she has explored not only archaic, republican, and imperial Rome, but the eastern and western provinces over which it eventually won control...She moves with ease and mastery though archaeology, numismatics, and philology, as well as a mass of written documents on stone and papyrus.\\\"- G. W. Bowersock New York Review of Books

\\\"In SPQR, her wonderful concise history, Mary Beard unpacks the secrets of the city's success with a crisp and merciless clarity that I have not seen equaled anywhere else.\\\"- Ferdinand Mount New York Times Book Review

\\\"Beard does precisely what few popularizers dare to try and plenty of dons can't pull off: She conveys the thrill of puzzling over texts and events that are bound to be ambiguous, and she complicates received wisdom in the process. Her magisterial new history of Rome, SPQR...is no exception.... The ancient Romans, Beard shows, are relevant to people many centuries later who struggle with questions of power, citizenship, empire, and identity.\\\"- Emily Wilson The Atlantic

\\\"A masterful new chronicle.... Beard is a sure-footed guide through arcane material that, in other hands, would grow tedious. Sifting myth from fact in dealing with the early history of the city, she enlivens-and deepens-scholarly debates by demonstrating how the Romans themselves shaped their legendary beginnings to short-term political ends.... Exemplary popular history, engaging but never dumbed down, providing both the grand sweep and the intimate details that bring the distant past vividly to life.\\\"- The Economist\"},{\"id\":\"46387629T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":\"Ferdinand Mount\",\"sourceName\":\"The New York Times Book Review\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"In SPQR, her wonderful concise history, Mary Beard unpacks the secrets of the city's success with a crisp and merciless clarity that I have not seen equaled anywhere else.\"},{\"id\":\"46331182T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":\"Dwight Garner\",\"sourceName\":\"The New York Times\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"…a sprawling but humane volume that examines nearly 1,000 years in the early history of that teeming city and empire…[Beard] is a debunker and a complicator…and charming company. In SPQR she pulls off the difficult feat of deliberating at length on the largest intellectual and moral issues her subject presents (liberty, beauty, citizenship, power) while maintaining an intimate tone…Ms. Beard's prose is never mandarin, yet she treats her readers like peers. She pulls us into the faculty lounge and remarks about debates that can make or end academic careers…You come to Ms. Beard's books to meet her as much as her subjects. They are idiosyncratic and offbeat, which is to say, pleasingly hers.\"},{\"id\":\"114589164T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"2015 New York Times Notable Selection, Commended
2015 Los Angeles Times Book Prize, Short-listed
\"},{\"id\":\"90932935T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

By one of, if not the most compelling writers of history, SPQR tells the story of the rise and fall of the Roman Empire like never before, giving fresh perspective and creative nuance that refreshes one of the most talked about periods of history.

\"},{\"id\":\"114589168T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Mary Beard is the author of the best-selling The Fires of Vesuvius and the National Book Critics Circle Award-nominated Confronting the Classics and SPQR. A popular blogger and television personality, Beard is a regular contributor to the New York Review of Books. She lives in England.

\"},{\"id\":\"66679891T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Mary Beard is the author of the best-selling The Fires of Vesuvius and the National Book Critics Circle Award–nominated Confronting the Classics and SPQR. A popular blogger and television personality, Beard is a regular contributor to the New York Review of Books. She lives in England.\"},{\"id\":\"91152443T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Mary Beard is the author of the best-selling The Fires of Vesuvius and the National Book Critics Circle Award–nominated Confronting the Classics and SPQR. A popular blogger and television personality, Beard is a regular contributor to the New York Review of Books. She lives in England.\"},{\"id\":\"114589166T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"45633643T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Mary Beard is the author of the best-selling The Fires of Vesuvius and the National Book Critics Circle Award–nominated Confronting the Classics and SPQR. A popular blogger and television personality, Beard is a regular contributor to the New York Review of Books. She lives in England.\"}]",{"_41":2626,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2627},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664600613105","SPQR/Mary-Beard",{"_41":2629,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2630},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664597500145","1121186183",{"_41":2632,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664598974705",{"_41":2634,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2610},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664601792753",{"_41":2636,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2587},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39664595042545",{"_41":2638,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2639},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61361990533361","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.9\"}",{"_41":2641,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":2642},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61361990500593","7",{"_26":75,"_76":10,"_54":2644},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/women-in-classics","Women Rewriting the Classics",{"_33":2647,"_26":1500,"_1490":2648,"_72":2921},"cc4f1890f988",{"_1493":2649,"_1502":233,"_1902":1903,"_1904":1905,"_104":-5,"_54":2919},[2650,2706,2760,2813,2866],{"_2351":2352,"_41":2651,"_72":2652,"_946":2653,"_829":2654,"_937":2655,"_935":2656,"_2358":2657,"_948":2660,"_980":59,"_958":2663,"_2371":2667,"_1041":2677,"_1003":2679,"_1072":2680},"gid://shopify/Product/8833970045169","The Steps: A Memoir","Hardcover","9780063443914","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.","

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.

",{"_41":2658,"_54":2659,"_56":2477,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47637521465585","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780063443914_p0.jpg?v=1768988713",{"_950":2661},{"_952":2662,"_954":955},"27.5",{"_950":2664,"_956":2666},{"_952":2665,"_954":955},"32.5",{"_952":2665,"_954":955},{"_965":2668},[2669],{"_41":2670,"_980":59,"_981":2671,"_711":2672,"_983":2673,"_928":2674,"_986":2675,"_990":2654,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46229940338929",{"_952":2665,"_954":955},{"_41":2658,"_54":2659,"_2364":-5,"_56":2477,"_50":2363},{"_952":2662,"_954":955},{"_72":2652,"_829":2654},[2676],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2678},"[\"B|$5 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7848)\",\"The Most Anticipated Books of 2026 (p10335)\",\"BADGE - $5 OFF (p7876)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"BADGE - 15% OFF (p7872)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_989":2654},[2681,-5,-5,2684,2686,-5,2688,2691,2694,2697,2700,-5,2702,2704,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2682,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2683},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044557275377","[{\"contributorId\":303924,\"fullName\":\"Sylvester Stallone\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2685,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044557865201",{"_41":2687,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044556620017",{"_41":2689,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044557963505","118",{"_41":2692,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2693},"gid://shopify/Metafield/67529648242929","[{\"id\":\"128276535T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"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\":\"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":2695,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2696},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044558553329","The-Steps/Sylvester-Stallone",{"_41":2698,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2699},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044556194033","1148277546",{"_41":2701,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044557766897",{"_41":2703,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2678},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044558946545",{"_41":2705,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2654},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39044553834737",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2707,"_72":2708,"_946":2653,"_829":2709,"_937":2710,"_935":2711,"_2358":2712,"_948":2715,"_980":59,"_958":2718,"_2371":2722,"_1041":2732,"_1003":2734,"_1072":2735},"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":2713,"_54":2714,"_56":2362,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/49384249131249","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593728123_p0.jpg?v=1783566741",{"_950":2716},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},"32.0",{"_950":2719,"_956":2721},{"_952":2720,"_954":955},"35.0",{"_952":2720,"_954":955},{"_965":2723},[2724],{"_41":2725,"_980":59,"_981":2726,"_711":2727,"_983":2728,"_928":2729,"_986":2730,"_990":2709,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47588913676529",{"_952":2720,"_954":955},{"_41":2713,"_54":2714,"_2364":-5,"_56":2362,"_50":2363},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_72":2708,"_829":2709},[2731],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2733},"[\"BADGE - $3 OFF (p7877)\",\"B|$3 Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7847)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_989":2709},[2736,-5,-5,2739,2741,-5,2743,2745,2748,2751,2754,-5,2756,2758,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2737,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2738},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979855089","[{\"contributorId\":170136,\"fullName\":\"Ben Macintyre\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2740,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980182769",{"_41":2742,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979625713",{"_41":2744,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980248305",{"_41":2746,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2747},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74634584326385","[{\"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

\"},{\"id\":\"130247273T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"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

\"},{\"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":2749,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2750},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980707057","Redwood/Ben-Macintyre",{"_41":2752,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2753},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633979494641","1148963735",{"_41":2755,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633980084465",{"_41":2757,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2733},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682087293169",{"_41":2759,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2709},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74633978642673",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2761,"_72":2762,"_946":2653,"_829":2763,"_937":2764,"_935":2765,"_2358":2766,"_948":2770,"_980":59,"_958":2773,"_2371":2776,"_1041":2786,"_1003":2787,"_1072":2788},"gid://shopify/Product/9484011438321","The Castle: Adventures in a World of Unraveling Men","9781594634208","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 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.","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":2767,"_54":2768,"_56":2769,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48885996126449","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781594634208_p0.jpg?v=1777343651",1323,{"_950":2771},{"_952":2772,"_954":955},"29.0",{"_950":2774,"_956":2775},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_965":2777},[2778],{"_41":2779,"_980":59,"_981":2780,"_711":2781,"_983":2782,"_928":2783,"_986":2784,"_990":2763,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47819820761329",{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_41":2767,"_54":2768,"_2364":-5,"_56":2769,"_50":2363},{"_952":2772,"_954":955},{"_72":2762,"_829":2763},[2785],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2733},{"_989":2763},[2789,-5,-5,2792,2794,-5,2796,2798,2801,2804,2807,-5,2809,2811,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2790,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2791},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541886705","[{\"contributorId\":1057956,\"fullName\":\"Jon Ronson\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2793,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542083313",{"_41":2795,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541755633",{"_41":2797,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542116081",{"_41":2799,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2800},"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.

\"},{\"id\":\"132070175T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2802,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2803},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542378225","The-Castle/Jon-Ronson",{"_41":2805,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2806},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812541690097","1149525288",{"_41":2808,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812542050545",{"_41":2810,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2733},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682482245873",{"_41":2812,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2763},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812540936433",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2814,"_72":2815,"_946":2653,"_829":2816,"_937":2817,"_935":2818,"_2358":2819,"_948":2822,"_980":59,"_958":2825,"_2371":2829,"_1041":2839,"_1003":2840,"_1072":2841},"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":2820,"_54":2821,"_56":2477,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48762598359281","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9798217059706_p0.jpg?v=1785381129",{"_950":2823},{"_952":2824,"_954":955},"30.0",{"_950":2826,"_956":2828},{"_952":2827,"_954":955},"33.0",{"_952":2827,"_954":955},{"_965":2830},[2831],{"_41":2832,"_980":59,"_981":2833,"_711":2834,"_983":2835,"_928":2836,"_986":2837,"_990":2816,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47819821023473",{"_952":2827,"_954":955},{"_41":2820,"_54":2821,"_2364":-5,"_56":2477,"_50":2363},{"_952":2824,"_954":955},{"_72":2815,"_829":2816},[2838],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2733},{"_989":2816},[2842,-5,-5,2845,2847,-5,2849,2851,2854,2857,2860,-5,2862,2864,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2843,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2844},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812550701297","[{\"contributorId\":3612652,\"fullName\":\"Adam Grant\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2846,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551389425",{"_41":2848,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812550177009",{"_41":2850,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551520497",{"_41":2852,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2853},"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\":\"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 and cohosts The Curiosity Shop with Brené Brown. 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\":\"124240444T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2855,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2856},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812552667377","Vibe/Adam-Grant",{"_41":2858,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2859},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812549914865","1149158802",{"_41":2861,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812551225585",{"_41":2863,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2733},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78682520584433",{"_41":2865,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2816},"gid://shopify/Metafield/76812548342001",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2867,"_72":2868,"_946":2653,"_829":2869,"_937":2870,"_935":2871,"_2358":2872,"_948":2875,"_980":59,"_958":2878,"_2371":2881,"_1041":2891,"_1003":2893,"_1072":2894},"gid://shopify/Product/9524501872881","Secrets: A Reporter's Memoir","9781668008232","From two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist Bob Woodword 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 Woodword 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":2873,"_54":2874,"_56":2477,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/49031571112177","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781668008232_p0.jpg?v=1774236175",{"_950":2876},{"_952":2877,"_954":955},"24.5",{"_950":2879,"_956":2880},{"_952":2720,"_954":955},{"_952":2720,"_954":955},{"_965":2882},[2883],{"_41":2884,"_980":59,"_981":2885,"_711":2886,"_983":2887,"_928":2888,"_986":2889,"_990":2869,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47947898978545",{"_952":2720,"_954":955},{"_41":2873,"_54":2874,"_2364":-5,"_56":2477,"_50":2363},{"_952":2877,"_954":955},{"_72":2868,"_829":2869},[2890],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2892},"[\"BADGE - 30% off (p7865)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\",\"B|30% Off|#DD2A27|#701F15 (p7837)\",\"Retail Price fixing (p261)\"]",{"_989":2869},[2895,-5,-5,2898,2900,-5,2902,2904,2907,2910,2913,-5,2915,2917,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":2896,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2897},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239680856305","[{\"contributorId\":174944,\"fullName\":\"Bob Woodward\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2899,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239681478897",{"_41":2901,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239680332017",{"_41":2903,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239681642737",{"_41":2905,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2906},"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.

\"}]",{"_41":2908,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2909},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239682822385","Secrets/Bob-Woodward",{"_41":2911,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2912},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239680037105","1149767323",{"_41":2914,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239681347825",{"_41":2916,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2892},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239684329713",{"_41":2918,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2869},"gid://shopify/Metafield/78239678464241",{"_26":75,"_76":10,"_54":2920},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/the-biggest-books-of-fall-2026-nonfiction-edition","The Biggest Books of Fall 2026: Nonfiction Edition",{"_33":2923,"_26":1500,"_1490":2924,"_72":3198},"e3ceb12b392e",{"_1493":2925,"_1502":233,"_1902":1903,"_1904":1905,"_104":-5,"_54":3196},[2926,2983,3037,3094,3145],{"_2351":2352,"_41":2927,"_72":2928,"_946":2653,"_829":2929,"_937":2930,"_935":2931,"_2358":2932,"_948":2936,"_980":59,"_958":2938,"_2371":2941,"_1041":2951,"_1003":2952,"_1072":2953},"gid://shopify/Product/9405443375345","Switzy: A Novel","9780593595244","A mesmerizing portrait of an aging man's last pilgrimage, from the New York Times best selling author of The Girls and The Guest.LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZEA private plane cuts through the winter night, somewhere over Greenland. David, a retired executive, sits back in his leather seat, playing solitaire on his phone. Click. Click. Drag. Click. The notebook in his jacket pocket is filled with familiar phrases, urgent reminders to himself, but he struggles to recognize his own handwriting. A mystery, among many mysteries. The world, once so knowable, has been rendered inscrutable.This is what David knows: Cody, his assistant, asleep in the seat next to him, will shepherd him along the voyage. A stopover in London. Dinner with his adult daughter. A meeting in France with an old friend, estranged for decades. His final destination is Zurich. David glides through hotel rooms and airports and foreign cities, running out the clock on his mortal life. His grasp on the present slips away, and the past rushes in: the Sunday roasts of childhood. The stiff clothes meant only for church. A summer at a school friend's house. The losses and missteps that punctuate a life. As David's arrival in Zurich looms, an exquisitely rendered portrait of an unraveling mind emerges, both darkly humorous and profoundly moving. Hypnotic and startlingly original, Switzy probes the depths of human consciousness, revealing what a man is left with when the accomplishments and compromises that have defined him, and the illusions he's relied on, vanish.","A mesmerizing portrait of an aging man's last pilgrimage, from the New York Times best selling author of The Girls and The Guest.

LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZE

A private plane cuts through the winter night, somewhere over Greenland. David, a retired executive, sits back in his leather seat, playing solitaire on his phone. Click. Click. Drag. Click. The notebook in his jacket pocket is filled with familiar phrases, urgent reminders to himself, but he struggles to recognize his own handwriting.

A mystery, among many mysteries. The world, once so knowable, has been rendered inscrutable.

This is what David knows: Cody, his assistant, asleep in the seat next to him, will shepherd him along the voyage. A stopover in London. Dinner with his adult daughter. A meeting in France with an old friend, estranged for decades.

His final destination is Zurich.

David glides through hotel rooms and airports and foreign cities, running out the clock on his mortal life. His grasp on the present slips away, and the past rushes in: the Sunday roasts of childhood. The stiff clothes meant only for church. A summer at a school friend's house. The losses and missteps that punctuate a life.

As David's arrival in Zurich looms, an exquisitely rendered portrait of an unraveling mind emerges, both darkly humorous and profoundly moving. Hypnotic and startlingly original, Switzy probes the depths of human consciousness, revealing what a man is left with when the accomplishments and compromises that have defined him, and the illusions he's relied on, vanish.",{"_41":2933,"_54":2934,"_56":2935,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48411087306993","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593595244_p0.jpg?v=1785354920",1328,{"_950":2937},{"_952":2772,"_954":955},{"_950":2939,"_956":2940},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_965":2942},[2943],{"_41":2944,"_980":59,"_981":2945,"_711":2946,"_983":2947,"_928":2948,"_986":2949,"_990":2929,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47562435494129",{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_41":2933,"_54":2934,"_2364":-5,"_56":2935,"_50":2363},{"_952":2772,"_954":955},{"_72":2928,"_829":2929},[2950],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2733},{"_989":2929},[2954,-5,-5,2957,2959,-5,2961,2963,2966,2969,2972,-5,2974,2976,-5,2978,2981],{"_41":2955,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":2956},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417510646001","[{\"contributorId\":17873290,\"fullName\":\"Emma Cline\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":2958,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417510940913",{"_41":2960,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417510383857",{"_41":2962,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417511039217",{"_41":2964,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":2965},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74420867596529","[{\"id\":\"132156567T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"1

It was always nighttime there. Or in his memory he had only ever been there at night, the cobblestone streets and the strangely empty sidewalks, the black vastness of the lake as seen from the back seat of a town car. It was a city that existed in a perpetual hush, a chilly dark. As if the place had been built for these kinds of shadowed errands.

There would be snow on the ground. The middle of February. The flat, sad month. Like a house when no one is home.

The steady hum of the plane's engine carried them along. The window shades were all closed. A flat-screen showed news without sound. David played solitaire on his phone. The green meadow of the background pulsed against the black and red and white cards.

Click. Click. Click. Drag. Click.

The cards flipped all at once, scrolling across the screen. Chaos that resolved itself into order and then back into chaos, in need of order, future order.

He put his phone down.

Cody was still asleep. His head hung slack, mouth open, though he seemed comfortable enough, his arms folded peaceably across his chest. Self-contained, unobtrusive. He'd worked for David for-his brain wandered. For years. How much time had David and the boy spent together, if you added up the hours?

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

The quick brown fox-

They were somewhere nearing Greenland. It was not his plane. Of course it wasn't his plane. This plane that was brand-new. A tax loophole David had been familiar with-bonus depreciation. One-hundred-percent write-off for \\\"business equipment.\\\" In some realms, business equipment meant planes. Millions, just x-ed off the ledger. But whatever equipment had to be put into use by December 31 of the calendar year-Stearns had just made the cutoff. Wheels up before New Year's Eve. This year the exemption had dropped to whatever percent. Next year, even less. In a few years, the exemption would cease to exist, or more likely, it would morph into some other sneaky form, open for exploitation, but that was out past the limits of his purview.

The plane was large, bigger than Stearns's last one. A full bedroom, a galley kitchen. Polished doors that separated the rooms, doors that slid silently and obligingly out of sight. The windows were larger, stamped out more of the night sky.

The flight attendant was somewhere in her thirties. Young but not enough to be vulgar. Low ponytail, low heels. David had known, when she first said her name, that it would instantly become vapor. And so it had.

She had made up little passenger kits for the overnight flight. Hand wipes and squat water bottles and Chapstick and miniature tubes of face lotion and a sachet of hydrating powder that made your water more . . . wet?

He unscrewed his water bottle and tipped in the sachet of powder, or however much powder he could manage to get inside. He screwed the cap back on, shook the bottle. He took a slug. Assessed whether this water tasted particularly wet.

Hard to say.

David had a small leather notebook that fit pretty well in a jacket pocket. An overly fussy leather-worked cover, Liberty or whatever, lined pages and a gold-leaf edge. He kept notes to himself here. In blocky handwriting. It wasn't his handwriting. But it had to be, because he had watched himself write, watched his hand move the pen across the page.

ROSE CHAIR APPLE

Hall of the Mtn King

REBECCA, MARYLEBONE-Geoffrey. Rainer, 9.

Invisible spheres

As a kid, he'd learned cursive on lined practice paper. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The swooping tails of the g's and the q's, the queerly looped z-he'd filled page after page. Miss Shapiro had gone to each student, met them in their private child world. Used her own hand to press theirs into place. It was about learning to hold the pencil right. The minor ache of his fingers taking up an unfamiliar position. Awkward, at first, and then it had become natural.

Miss Shapiro, who must have been barely in her twenties.

Now he seemed to clutch at his pen with a clumsy hand, the letters shaky and juvenile, awkward again. Miss Shapiro, where are you?

The flight attendant must have been watching, discreetly, to see when Cody woke up. At the first signs of stirring, she started to prepare dinner service.

Around she came to unfold the table, reconfigure the big leather seats into their dining arrangement. Click, click, she locked the seats into their new place. She spread a white tablecloth. Laid out the salt and pepper shakers, a pair of silver mid-century blobs. They were heavy in the hand, pleasingly so. The dishware, the flatware-the choosing of these items had taken up a not insignificant part of Stearns's mental energy. Multiple calls to David, discussing these decisions. Curious to think of now. These concerns.

They used to wear the outfits. The girls. The flight attendants. One of his first real business trips-those Austrian Air hostesses in red, head to toe. Their stockings were red, their little caps. There were little fabric curtains on each window with the names of the cultural capitals of Europe printed in script. Mouthfuls of Champagne. A little burp, David smiling at the red nurses. Smiling at the folding tray that marked his universe. He said nurse but he knew they weren't nurses, no. They were air hostesses, but those outfits-they had a nurse feel. Which meant they would care for you. So you could relax, all was well.

A glass of white wine for Cody. A slightly prissy sight, Cody lifting the stem to his mouth. David had three fingers of Scotch. Alcohol was to be avoided. That had been the initial wisdom. He had complied, at the beginning-fear, it turned out, was fairly motivating. David gagged a little on the supplement regimen, piously declined his evening Scotch. Then the futility was clear, and he was ashamed by his own efforts, that he had ever believed they might help.

And really, even his brief sobriety had seemed flimsy. Subject to the usual human waffling, that murky internal dialogue with which all manner of things were explained away. A lifelong Punch-and-Judy act-how one version of David pretended to himself that, yes, it was decided, no drink that night. Which, after the private gauntlet, usually meant, yes, yes, actually a drink tonight. Knowing he would have the desired thing, but first there's just this little play we are doing in which no, no, he would not.

Frowny face, smiley face.

The liaison in Zurich was a woman named Gould, Anna Gould-he called her Ghoul. The process had taken months. Months and months.

Ghoul had messaged again.

Ghoul needed a second assessment from another specialist.

Ghoul needed another round of paperwork completed before she could send along next steps.

All the bureaucracy that had to be navigated, as in any other transaction.

It was a business exchange, ultimately-that had been a comfort.

Ghoul required the boring, expected items. Passport, birth certificate.

Did David Hastings exist? Yes, he did. Born in North Linden Hospital at 3:02 in the morning, deep in an eastern winter.

Could David Hastings travel to Zurich? Did he have the proper documents?

Yes, here was his younger face that stared out from his passport photo. A younger face, blithe, a David Hastings who did not know what would befall this current face. Though as he understood it, it had been happening already, that many years ago, proteins circling and gumming up the brain, plaque crackling along his neurons. So this younger David already contained the information of his own senescence. As everyone did, he guessed.

This younger David did not care.

The passport meant that this older David could pass through borders and cross oceans.

A stopover in London, then he would arrive in Zurich at the appointed time.\"},{\"id\":\"132156603T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"1

It was always nighttime there. Or in his memory he had only ever been there at night, the cobblestone streets and the strangely empty sidewalks, the black vastness of the lake as seen from the back seat of a town car. It was a city that existed in a perpetual hush, a chilly dark. As if the place had been built for these kinds of shadowed errands.

There would be snow on the ground. The middle of February. The flat, sad month. Like a house when no one is home.

The steady hum of the plane's engine carried them along. The window shades were all closed. A flat-screen showed news without sound. David played solitaire on his phone. The green meadow of the background pulsed against the black and red and white cards.

Click. Click. Click. Drag. Click.

The cards flipped all at once, scrolling across the screen. Chaos that resolved itself into order and then back into chaos, in need of order, future order.

He put his phone down.

Cody was still asleep. His head hung slack, mouth open, though he seemed comfortable enough, his arms folded peaceably across his chest. Self-contained, unobtrusive. He'd worked for David for-his brain wandered. For years. How much time had David and the boy spent together, if you added up the hours?

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

The quick brown fox-

They were somewhere nearing Greenland. It was not his plane. Of course it wasn't his plane. This plane that was brand-new. A tax loophole David had been familiar with-bonus depreciation. One-hundred-percent write-off for \\\"business equipment.\\\" In some realms, business equipment meant planes. Millions, just x-ed off the ledger. But whatever equipment had to be put into use by December 31 of the calendar year-Stearns had just made the cutoff. Wheels up before New Year's Eve. This year the exemption had dropped to whatever percent. Next year, even less. In a few years, the exemption would cease to exist, or more likely, it would morph into some other sneaky form, open for exploitation, but that was out past the limits of his purview.

The plane was large, bigger than Stearns's last one. A full bedroom, a galley kitchen. Polished doors that separated the rooms, doors that slid silently and obligingly out of sight. The windows were larger, stamped out more of the night sky.

The flight attendant was somewhere in her thirties. Young but not enough to be vulgar. Low ponytail, low heels. David had known, when she first said her name, that it would instantly become vapor. And so it had.

She had made up little passenger kits for the overnight flight. Hand wipes and squat water bottles and Chapstick and miniature tubes of face lotion and a sachet of hydrating powder that made your water more . . . wet?

He unscrewed his water bottle and tipped in the sachet of powder, or however much powder he could manage to get inside. He screwed the cap back on, shook the bottle. He took a slug. Assessed whether this water tasted particularly wet.

Hard to say.

David had a small leather notebook that fit pretty well in a jacket pocket. An overly fussy leather-worked cover, Liberty or whatever, lined pages and a gold-leaf edge. He kept notes to himself here. In blocky handwriting. It wasn't his handwriting. But it had to be, because he had watched himself write, watched his hand move the pen across the page.

ROSE CHAIR APPLE

Hall of the Mtn King

REBECCA, MARYLEBONE-Geoffrey. Rainer, 9.

Invisible spheres

As a kid, he'd learned cursive on lined practice paper. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The swooping tails of the g's and the q's, the queerly looped z-he'd filled page after page. Miss Shapiro had gone to each student, met them in their private child world. Used her own hand to press theirs into place. It was about learning to hold the pencil right. The minor ache of his fingers taking up an unfamiliar position. Awkward, at first, and then it had become natural.

Miss Shapiro, who must have been barely in her twenties.

Now he seemed to clutch at his pen with a clumsy hand, the letters shaky and juvenile, awkward again. Miss Shapiro, where are you?

The flight attendant must have been watching, discreetly, to see when Cody woke up. At the first signs of stirring, she started to prepare dinner service.

Around she came to unfold the table, reconfigure the big leather seats into their dining arrangement. Click, click, she locked the seats into their new place. She spread a white tablecloth. Laid out the salt and pepper shakers, a pair of silver mid-century blobs. They were heavy in the hand, pleasingly so. The dishware, the flatware-the choosing of these items had taken up a not insignificant part of Stearns's mental energy. Multiple calls to David, discussing these decisions. Curious to think of now. These concerns.

They used to wear the outfits. The girls. The flight attendants. One of his first real business trips-those Austrian Air hostesses in red, head to toe. Their stockings were red, their little caps. There were little fabric curtains on each window with the names of the cultural capitals of Europe printed in script. Mouthfuls of Champagne. A little burp, David smiling at the red nurses. Smiling at the folding tray that marked his universe. He said nurse but he knew they weren't nurses, no. They were air hostesses, but those outfits-they had a nurse feel. Which meant they would care for you. So you could relax, all was well.

A glass of white wine for Cody. A slightly prissy sight, Cody lifting the stem to his mouth. David had three fingers of Scotch. Alcohol was to be avoided. That had been the initial wisdom. He had complied, at the beginning-fear, it turned out, was fairly motivating. David gagged a little on the supplement regimen, piously declined his evening Scotch. Then the futility was clear, and he was ashamed by his own efforts, that he had ever believed they might help.

And really, even his brief sobriety had seemed flimsy. Subject to the usual human waffling, that murky internal dialogue with which all manner of things were explained away. A lifelong Punch-and-Judy act-how one version of David pretended to himself that, yes, it was decided, no drink that night. Which, after the private gauntlet, usually meant, yes, yes, actually a drink tonight. Knowing he would have the desired thing, but first there's just this little play we are doing in which no, no, he would not.

Frowny face, smiley face.

The liaison in Zurich was a woman named Gould, Anna Gould-he called her Ghoul. The process had taken months. Months and months.

Ghoul had messaged again.

Ghoul needed a second assessment from another specialist.

Ghoul needed another round of paperwork completed before she could send along next steps.

All the bureaucracy that had to be navigated, as in any other transaction.

It was a business exchange, ultimately-that had been a comfort.

Ghoul required the boring, expected items. Passport, birth certificate.

Did David Hastings exist? Yes, he did. Born in North Linden Hospital at 3:02 in the morning, deep in an eastern winter.

Could David Hastings travel to Zurich? Did he have the proper documents?

Yes, here was his younger face that stared out from his passport photo. A younger face, blithe, a David Hastings who did not know what would befall this current face. Though as he understood it, it had been happening already, that many years ago, proteins circling and gumming up the brain, plaque crackling along his neurons. So this younger David already contained the information of his own senescence. As everyone did, he guessed.

This younger David did not care.

The passport meant that this older David could pass through borders and cross oceans.

A stopover in London, then he would arrive in Zurich at the appointed time.\"},{\"id\":\"127586036T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"\\\"We live in a time ruled by overpowered and undersocialised wealthy boy kings; Emma Cline's mordant novel considers what, if anything, remains at the end of one such luxurious yet lonely life. David is a retired American business executive with dementia who decides to be euthanised in a Swiss clinic. As he voyages across Europe, fuzzy memories from his life slip in and out of his consciousness. There are final gestures towards intimacy with family and friends, and a whimsical cartoon becomes a symbol of a bygone childhood. What makes a life? Cline writes vividly about the trappings of the elite-the private jets, the heirloom watches, all that time spent in the office-as well as their sad social cost in a story that feels immersive, elegiac, and very real. As one of us put it: 'I travel a lot, and know these guys.'\\\"-2026 Booker Prize judges

Praise for Emma Cline

\\\"Under [Emma] Cline's command, every sentence [is] as sharp as a scalpel.\\\"-The New York Times

\\\"Cline sees the world exactly and generously. On every other page, it seems, there is something remarkable.\\\"-The New Yorker

\\\"One of the boldest, most complicated writers working today.\\\"-San Francisco Chronicle

\\\"Cline is a master of depicting the nefarious and atmospheric menace that often lurks adjacent to our most glittery environments.\\\"-Vogue

\\\"Cline's fiction is full of binaries pressing up against one another; youthful promise and life's realities; success and failure; darkness and humor.\\\"-The Wall Street Journal

\\\"One of the best and most discomfiting young writers working today.\\\"-Entertainment Weekly\"},{\"id\":\"131734248T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"We live in a time ruled by overpowered and undersocialised wealthy boy kings; Emma Cline's mordant novel considers what, if anything, remains at the end of one such luxurious yet lonely life. David is a retired American business executive with dementia who decides to be euthanised in a Swiss clinic. As he voyages across Europe, fuzzy memories from his life slip in and out of his consciousness. There are final gestures towards intimacy with family and friends, and a whimsical cartoon becomes a symbol of a bygone childhood. What makes a life? Cline writes vividly about the trappings of the elite--the private jets, the heirloom watches, all that time spent in the office--as well as their sad social cost in a story that feels immersive, elegiac, and very real. As one of us put it: 'I travel a lot, and know these guys.'\\\"--2026 Booker Prize judges

Praise for Emma Cline

\\\"Under [Emma] Cline's command, every sentence [is] as sharp as a scalpel.\\\"--The New York Times

\\\"Cline sees the world exactly and generously. On every other page, it seems, there is something remarkable.\\\"--The New Yorker

\\\"One of the boldest, most complicated writers working today.\\\"--San Francisco Chronicle

\\\"Cline is a master of depicting the nefarious and atmospheric menace that often lurks adjacent to our most glittery environments.\\\"--Vogue

\\\"Cline's fiction is full of binaries pressing up against one another; youthful promise and life's realities; success and failure; darkness and humor.\\\"--The Wall Street Journal

\\\"One of the best and most discomfiting young writers working today.\\\"--Entertainment Weekly\"},{\"id\":\"132098558T\",\"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 author of The Guest returns with a quietly moving portrait of memory and time. As a wealthy retired executive, David’s past is full of accolades and accomplishments, but what really measures a life?

\"},{\"id\":\"130214022T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

As David’s life itinerary nears the end, an influx of memories takes over in Emma Cline’s quietly moving portrait of time, illusions and letting go.

\"},{\"id\":\"120613555T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Emma Cline is the New York Times bestselling author of The Guest, The Girls, and the story collection Daddy. The Girls was a finalist for the Center for Fiction's First Novel Prize, the National Book Critics Circle John Leonard Award, and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. It was a New York Times Editor's Choice and was the winner of the Shirley Jackson Award. The Guest was longlisted for the PEN/Faulkner Award. Cline's stories have been published in The New Yorker, Granta, The Paris Review, and The Best American Short Stories anthologies. She received an O'Henry Award and the Plimpton Prize from The Paris Review, and was chosen as one of Granta's Best Young American Novelists.

\"},{\"id\":\"122373272T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":2967,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":2968},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417511530737","Switzy/Emma-Cline",{"_41":2970,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":2971},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417510252785","1148911673",{"_41":2973,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417510875377",{"_41":2975,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":2733},"gid://shopify/Metafield/77226781180145",{"_41":2977,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2929},"gid://shopify/Metafield/74417509073137",{"_41":2979,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2980},"gid://shopify/Metafield/90583413981425","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"5.0\"}",{"_41":2982,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":893},"gid://shopify/Metafield/90583413948657",{"_2351":2352,"_41":2984,"_72":2985,"_946":947,"_829":2986,"_937":2987,"_935":2988,"_2358":2989,"_948":2993,"_980":59,"_958":2995,"_2371":2998,"_1041":-5,"_1003":3007,"_1072":3008},"gid://shopify/Product/8958578950385","Helen of Nowhere","9781566897358","LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE“Philosophically, politically, and spiritually adventurous, this slim, ambitious volume has the power to transform.” —The Booker Prize judgesIn the middle of the countryside, a realtor is showing a disgraced professor around an idyllic house. She speaks not only about the home's many wonderful qualities but about its previous owner, the mystifying Helen, whose presence still seems to suffuse every fixture. Through hearing stories of Helen's chosen way of living, the man begins to see that his own story is not actually over—rather, he is being offered a chance to buy his way into the simple life, close to the land, that's always been out of reach to him. But as evening fades into black, he will learn that the asking price may be much higher, and stranger, than anticipated.Philosophically and formally adventurous, at once intimate and cosmic in scope, Helen of Nowhere asks: What must we give up in exchange for true happiness?","LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE

“Philosophically, politically, and spiritually adventurous, this slim, ambitious volume has the power to transform.” —The Booker Prize judges

In the middle of the countryside, a realtor is showing a disgraced professor around an idyllic house. She speaks not only about the home's many wonderful qualities but about its previous owner, the mystifying Helen, whose presence still seems to suffuse every fixture. Through hearing stories of Helen's chosen way of living, the man begins to see that his own story is not actually over—rather, he is being offered a chance to buy his way into the simple life, close to the land, that's always been out of reach to him. But as evening fades into black, he will learn that the asking price may be much higher, and stranger, than anticipated.

Philosophically and formally adventurous, at once intimate and cosmic in scope, Helen of Nowhere asks: What must we give up in exchange for true happiness?",{"_41":2990,"_54":2991,"_56":2992,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47836216525041","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781566897358_p0.jpg?v=1785965626",1325,{"_950":2994},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},{"_950":2996,"_956":2997},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":2999},[3000],{"_41":3001,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3002,"_983":3003,"_928":3004,"_986":3005,"_990":2986,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46370324644081",{"_41":2990,"_54":2991,"_2364":-5,"_56":2992,"_50":2363},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},{"_72":2985,"_829":2986},[3006],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":2986},[3009,-5,-5,3012,3014,-5,3016,3018,3021,3024,3027,-5,-5,3029,-5,3031,3034],{"_41":3010,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3011},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979563725041","[{\"contributorId\":21572598,\"fullName\":\"Makenna Goodman\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3013,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979564970225",{"_41":3015,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979562840305",{"_41":3017,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979565330673",{"_41":3019,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3020},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979567722737","[{\"id\":\"131651613T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Praise for Helen of Nowhere

Longlisted for The Booker Prize 2026
Favorite Book of 2025, The Paris Review
Favorite Read of 2025, Granta
A Millions Most Anticipated Book of Summer 2025
A Literary Hub Novel You Need to Read This Fall
Bookshop.org Best of Summer 2025
Favorite Book of 2026, The Times

\\\"A spellbinding novel or a play with just four characters? In groundbreaking form, Helen of Nowhere blends both to challenge us with a seemingly simple question: How much are we truly willing to change ourselves in order to get back to nature? A fallen professor's visit to a rural house leads to a surreal and destabilising encounter with a realtor, who shares the tale of Helen, the home's former occupant. Philosophically, politically, and spiritually adventurous, this slim, ambitious volume has the power to transform.\\\" --The Booker Prize judges

\\\"A perfect fairytale for our times.\\\" --The Guardian

\\\"Wildly original.\\\" --Johanna Thomas-Carr, The Times

\\\"Exhilarating.\\\" --Financial Times

\\\"Searing...Helen of Nowhere offers up an exhilarating myth for men who need to be shuffled offstage.\\\" --Joanna Biggs, New York Review of Books

\\\"Is it possible for a man to truly change? Helen of Nowhere, the second novel from the American author Makenna Goodman, dramatizes this timeworn question to honest and hilarious effect.... [T]he energy of the novel, with its characters' loopy digressions and riffs on everything from helicopter parenting to the role of pesticides in modern farming, is closest to the work of the Austrian novelist Thomas Bernhard. Goodman's ending is a stroke of genius, a triumph of what Bernhard once referred to as a suffering mind's \\\"inner landscape.\\\" --Abhrajyoti Chakraborty, Observer

\\\"a novel that is as strange as it is electric. Through a six act structure and extended monologues, Goodman's radical novel follows Man as he becomes fixated on the previous owner of his home, the mystifying Helen, whose presence still seems to suffuse every fixture. No facet of modern life is left unturned here. From parenting, to home ownership, to agriculture, Goodman tunnels you to one of the most unexpected novel endings of 2026.\\\" --Lexi Covalsen, Cold

\\\"Helen of Nowhere is unlike any other fiction - unique in its blend of surrealism, philosophy and satire - while also raising questions about feminism, success, marriage and sacrifice. Every single sentence works hard and yet reads effortlessly. Brilliant.\\\" -- Martha Alexander, AnOther

\\\"Beautifully written with a poetic, intriguing rhythm.\\\" -- Markie Robson-Scott, Arts Desk

\\\"Once in a blue moon, a book comes along that seems to read itself, demanding no extra effort beyond the turning of its pages. Makenna Goodman's Helen of Nowhere is one of those books.... Goodman's jabs at the travails of academia are sharp, and the novel's goal of recovering lost pleasures is amplified by its thrilling metaphysical ambition.\\\" -- Colm McKenna, Irish Times

\\\"[A] satire-cum-spiritual epic concerning a professor and a country home - a psychic space that becomes a stage for total self-transformation.... Goodman links questions of intimacy with questions of politics. Can we, she wonders, really believe in the reality of the other? And can we assimilate enough of what is outside the self to become fully realized beings, suited to love and braced to meet the world, to engage honestly with its challenges to our most steadfast beliefs?\\\" -- Rachel Gerry, Times Literary Supplement

\\\"This is already one of our favourite books of the year.... Makenna Goodman makes the novel genuinely thrilling again as she masterminds us through Helen of Nowhere's six \\\"acts\\\" and a heady mixture of perspectives and audiences. As you're reading, you'll think to yourself 'did she just... are we... is this...?' and you're fully with Goodman for the entire ride.... Just read it.\\\" -- Sophie Charara, Shortlist

\\\"Helen of Nowhere is lyrical but succinct, and it's playful without being pretentious. Undoubtedly, Man will stay with readers for a long time, something that would make him quite happy.\\\" --Emily Hall, Necessary Fiction

\\\"I loved Makenna Goodman's Helen of Nowhere, a truly unusual tale of male obsolescence that is, like the best books (like the best men?) brave. It follows a soft-canceled neotranscendentalist college professor through a psychosexual encounter with a real estate agent--what ensues is a heady romp written with moral seriousness and real comedy, like Iris Murdoch soundtracked by Enya. Books can be fun!\\\" -- Milo Walls, interviewer, The Art of Nonfiction No. 13, with Maggie Nelson, The Paris Review

\\\"A vessel for the contradictions of the present unlike any recent novel I've read.\\\" --Idra Novey, Chicago Review of Books

\\\"A hallucinatory closet drama.\\\" --Merve Emre, Granta

\\\"Frank and brutal in its unpeeling of the professor's ego, [Helen of Nowhere] highlights how the fantastic can elevate the mundane.\\\" --Ian Mond, Locus

\\\"Epic in the best way--the characters feel both familiar and new, the folly of Man is on full display, and on a sentence level, it's the kind of book that forces you to underline. Goodman's novel is a tribute to her influences, and a crackling joy to read.\\\" --Jessie Gaynor, Literary Hub

\\\"A clever exercise in exploring the shifting nature of power.\\\" --Publishers Weekly

\\\"Virtuosically written, with an insanity inside its sanity--or the other way around--that seems the proper use to make of reality in this moment.\\\" --Rachel Cusk, award winning author of Parade

\\\"One of the most surprising novels I've ever read. Goodman has found a unique way of blending political urgency and psychological insight with an almost hallucinatory spiritual dimension that manages to strike the reader as perfectly justified, deeply funny, and profoundly true.\\\" --Vincenzo Latronico, International Booker Prize-shortlisted author of Perfection

\\\"Goodman has wrought an epic in miniature, somehow as appealingly vast as a Greek tragedy or a Platonic dialogue, equal parts philosophy and art that's also delightfully wicked, like something from a fairytale or a fever dream.\\\" --Sarah Manguso, author of Liars

\\\"This is a wild and brave book! Intrepid, reconfiguring, and full of the best hauntings. In Helen of Nowhere, Goodman has daringly crafted toothsome characters you will devour.\\\" --Samantha Hunt, author of The Unwritten Book

\\\"A furious energy runs through Helen of Nowhere, whose every sentence is a joy to read. This is a book about loneliness and bitterness written with a wicked humor, and its moments of grace are as striking as they are enigmatic. A unique and brilliant work.\\\" --Ayşegül Savaş, author of The Anthropologists

\\\"Blending biting wit and gorgeous, lyrical prose, Helen of Nowhere is at once a modern satire summoning Dickens in A Christmas Carol, an exploration of the failures of second wave feminism, and a sneaky ode to Woolf and Thoreau. It's hard to pin down what this book is exactly, and whether or not Helen is Jesus, a furniture maker, god, the house, a wife, or time itself. Which is why you must restart it the moment you turn the last haunting page.\\\" --Alexandra Auder, author of Don't Call Me Home

\\\"Helen of Nowhere is an extraordinary book, gripping, daring, and unusual. With a pacing that completely swept me along, Goodman explores the need to steady oneself by valuing that which is dear, by taking care of the love that needs to be nourished. The trajectory through anger into healing feels like a real journey in time--the dialogue flashing past, written with such speed and brilliance. I wolfed it down.\\\" --Celia Paul, author of Letters to Gwen John

\"},{\"id\":\"131493502T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\" Notes From Your Bookseller

Blending surrealism, satire and philosophical concepts, Makenna Goodman weaves a remarkable tale of new beginnings following a disgraced professor who moves into a new house where the presence of the previous owner lingers.

\"},{\"id\":\"111448064T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Makenna Goodman is the author of two novels, Helen of Nowhere (Coffee House Press, 2025) and The Shame (Milkweed Editions, 2020), and has written for international publications including the New York Review of Books, the Los Angeles Review of Books, Harvard Review, The White Review, BOMB, The Common, ASTRA Magazine, and Mousse Magazine. Also an editor, she is based in Vermont.\"},{\"id\":\"111462070T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Makenna Goodman is the author of two novels, Helen of Nowhere (Coffee House Press, 2025) and The Shame (Milkweed Editions, 2020), and has written for international publications including the New York Review of Books, the Los Angeles Review of Books, Harvard Review, The White Review, BOMB, The Common, ASTRA Magazine, and Mousse Magazine. Also an editor, she is based in Vermont.\"}]",{"_41":3022,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3023},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979567001841","Helen-of-Nowhere/Makenna-Goodman",{"_41":3025,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3026},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979562021105","1147044336",{"_41":3028,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979564740849",{"_41":3030,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":2986},"gid://shopify/Metafield/44979558875377",{"_41":3032,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":3033},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60641652965617","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.8\"}",{"_41":3035,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":3036},"gid://shopify/Metafield/60641652932849","0",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3038,"_72":3039,"_946":2653,"_829":3040,"_937":3041,"_935":3042,"_2358":3043,"_948":3047,"_980":59,"_958":3050,"_2371":3053,"_1041":3062,"_1003":3064,"_1072":3065},"gid://shopify/Product/8991890342129","Black Bag: A Novel","9781638933380","LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2026\"The funniest and smartest novel I've read in a while.\" -Zadie SmithAn out-of-work actor accepts the role of a lifetime-sitting soundlessly in a lecture theater, zipped into a large leather bag-to aid a professor's psychological experiment. What could possibly go wrong?In Luke Kennard's audacious new novel, a penniless and out-of-work actor picks up a job working for Dr. Blend, a university professor who is conducting a psychological experiment. Dr. Blend wants to know: how will his students react to someone zipped into an oversized bag, sitting at the back of the lecture hall over a series of Fall lectures? The role, eagerly accepted, soon yields unexpected consequences, from a professor of post-humanism developing research questions of her own-in particular, can you love someone secreted away inside a black bag?-to the actor's childhood friend forming a vision for monetizing this unique new situation. In the end, only Black Bag will be able to say what it all means . . . A warped campus novel, an investigation into the crisis of masculinity, and an off-kilter love story, Black Bag is a firework of a novel: blazingly funny and profoundly humane.\"A genre-defying, big-swing of a novel . . . a sharply funny meditation on masculinity, academia, the modern attention economy, and the quiet desperation of everyday life.\" -Andrew Boryga, author of Victim","LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2026

\"The funniest and smartest novel I've read in a while.\" -Zadie Smith

An out-of-work actor accepts the role of a lifetime-sitting soundlessly in a lecture theater, zipped into a large leather bag-to aid a professor's psychological experiment. What could possibly go wrong?

In Luke Kennard's audacious new novel, a penniless and out-of-work actor picks up a job working for Dr. Blend, a university professor who is conducting a psychological experiment. Dr. Blend wants to know: how will his students react to someone zipped into an oversized bag, sitting at the back of the lecture hall over a series of Fall lectures?

The role, eagerly accepted, soon yields unexpected consequences, from a professor of post-humanism developing research questions of her own-in particular, can you love someone secreted away inside a black bag?-to the actor's childhood friend forming a vision for monetizing this unique new situation. In the end, only Black Bag will be able to say what it all means . . .

A warped campus novel, an investigation into the crisis of masculinity, and an off-kilter love story, Black Bag is a firework of a novel: blazingly funny and profoundly humane.

\"A genre-defying, big-swing of a novel . . . a sharply funny meditation on masculinity, academia, the modern attention economy, and the quiet desperation of everyday life.\" -Andrew Boryga, author of Victim",{"_41":3044,"_54":3045,"_56":3046,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47476967899377","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781638933380_p0.jpg?v=1786168711",1333,{"_950":3048},{"_952":3049,"_954":955},"28.0",{"_950":3051,"_956":3052},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3054},[3055],{"_41":3056,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3057,"_983":3058,"_928":3059,"_986":3060,"_990":3040,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46406617891057",{"_41":3044,"_54":3045,"_2364":-5,"_56":3046,"_50":2363},{"_952":3049,"_954":955},{"_72":3039,"_829":3040},[3061],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3063},"[\"Membership Discount Exclusion (p236)\",\"Book Haul 50% Off (p7274)\",\"Book Haul Early Access (p10782)\"]",{"_989":3040},[3066,-5,-5,3069,3071,-5,3073,3075,3078,3081,3084,-5,3086,3088,-5,3090,3092],{"_41":3067,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3068},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564996710641","[{\"contributorId\":5504263,\"fullName\":\"Luke Kennard\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3070,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564997038321",{"_41":3072,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564996415729",{"_41":3074,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564997103857",{"_41":3076,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3077},"gid://shopify/Metafield/69763245736177","[{\"id\":\"120416505T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2026

\\\"The funniest and smartest novel I've read in a while.\\\" -Zadie Smith

\\\"Kennard is a poet by trade and it shows. He gives several flamboyant inner monologues to a Border collie, and an inspired riff on Justine's 'atavastic' personal hygiene products reads like a description of Ziggy Stardust's Dopp kit. The plot, such as it is, often veers off in odd and cosmic directions. But I like this book's verve and style, and I often agreed with the dog.\\\" -New York Times

\\\"Luke Kennard's of-the-moment satire considers anonymity and disgust, the online rackets of cryptocurrency and energy drinks, and what it means to find love in our unstable times. There'll be a lot of discussion about what the novel has to say about the state of modern masculinity (fractious; confused) - we also admired its sharply crafted sentences, memorable sex scenes, and humour.\\\" -The Booker Prize

\\\"[A] delightful and dark picaresque . . . Kennard entertainingly pokes and prods at conceptions of identity, whether in sexual relationships or online personae. It's a hoot.\\\" -Publishers Weekly

\\\"A genre-defying, big-swing of a novel with a Kafkaesque premise . . . a sharply funny meditation on masculinity, academia, the modern attention economy, and the quiet desperation of everyday life.\\\" -Andrew Boryga, author of Victim

\\\"Irreverent and honest, Black Bag is an answer to the 'masculinity crisis' that suggests the solution is a lot easier than it appears.\\\" -OurCulture Mag (Most Anticipated Books of Spring 2026)

\\\"A comedic masterpiece. Part SNL sketch, part Spike Jonze film.\\\" -Ben Purkert, author of The Men Can't Be Saved

\\\"As surreal and ambitious as Tom McCarthy's Remainder, only written by someone with the comic instincts of Peep Show's Jesse Armstrong. But beneath the playfulness lies a thoughtful, tender meditation on the difficulty of being a man in the modern world: how to find purpose, how to make art that matters, and how to connect with other people when you suspect you might not possess a fully formed self to offer them. In Kennard's hands, the bag contains a lot . . . A brilliant comic tour de force.\\\" -The Sunday Times

\\\"What's most extraordinary about Black Bag isn't just its wry discursions to the psychology classroom, the sex dungeon, or the Swedish sawmill of the mind-though these are rendered with such phosphorescent wit that I could've read a book's worth of each. In Black Bag, we're treated to an uncommonly funny and deeply necessary snapshot of masculinity no more objectionable nor perfect than a black leather bag. Whoever thinks men aren't writing fiction clearly needs to read Luke Kennard.\\\" -Rafael Frumkin, author of Confidence

\\\"I would swear this in a court of law: Luke Kennard's Black Bag made me laugh aloud dozens and dozens of times. It's brilliant, a triumph of a book . . . I loved its inventive originality, and its ambition: it is very powerfully worth your time.\\\" -Guardian

\\\"A wryly subversive glimpse into the inner life of an actor who barely perceives how truly lost he is. It's clever, moving, biting, rich with integrity, and wildly funny.\\\" -Sierra Greer, award-winning author of Annie Bot

\\\"A fun novel that will make readers laugh, think, and possibly yearn for the safety of their own comforting sack.\\\" -Washington Independent Review of Books

\\\"How much can you fit in a large leather satchel? Luke Kennard suggests, when said bag is zipped up around the body of an out-of-work actor trying to find his way, the answer is near infinite: humor, dear friendship, frustrated desire, a talking dog, a wad of cash, hallucinogens, ambition, AI, humility, and no shortage of heart. Black Bag carried me along with a tremendously deft hand: it had me laughing, unnerved, and hopeful as it galloped through a true and strange world. This book left me reckoning with what to make of the society outside my proverbial eye slits, and what, with some effort, we might make of it still.\\\" -Emily Nemens, bestselling author of The Cactus League

\\\"A stylish, fun, and surprisingly incisive examination of masculinity, modernity, and attempting to make a living as a creative. It's also a weird little book about and, presumably for, sickos. Reading it hits like a concussion that makes you stranger but more compassionate. Easily the sharpest, funniest thing I've read all year.\\\" -Calvin Kasulke, author of Several People Are Typing

\\\"Equal parts charming and unhinged, Black Bag is the perfect novel for anyone who has ever felt like 'someone is constantly slapping me in the stomach with an old brown shoe.' This is one of hundreds (thousands?) of quotable lines from an immensely talented writer to watch. Luke Kennard, I will follow you anywhere.\\\" -Ruth Madievsky, bestselling and award-winning author of All Night Pharmacy\"},{\"id\":\"131480975T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"LONGLISTED FOR THE BOOKER PRIZE 2026

\\\"The funniest and smartest novel I've read in a while.\\\" --Zadie Smith

\\\"Kennard is a poet by trade and it shows. He gives several flamboyant inner monologues to a Border collie, and an inspired riff on Justine's 'atavastic' personal hygiene products reads like a description of Ziggy Stardust's Dopp kit. The plot, such as it is, often veers off in odd and cosmic directions. But I like this book's verve and style, and I often agreed with the dog.\\\" --New York Times

\\\"Luke Kennard's of-the-moment satire considers anonymity and disgust, the online rackets of cryptocurrency and energy drinks, and what it means to find love in our unstable times. There'll be a lot of discussion about what the novel has to say about the state of modern masculinity (fractious; confused) - we also admired its sharply crafted sentences, memorable sex scenes, and humour.\\\" --The Booker Prize

\\\"[A] delightful and dark picaresque . . . Kennard entertainingly pokes and prods at conceptions of identity, whether in sexual relationships or online personae. It's a hoot.\\\" --Publishers Weekly

\\\"A genre-defying, big-swing of a novel with a Kafkaesque premise . . . a sharply funny meditation on masculinity, academia, the modern attention economy, and the quiet desperation of everyday life.\\\" --Andrew Boryga, author of Victim

\\\"Irreverent and honest, Black Bag is an answer to the 'masculinity crisis' that suggests the solution is a lot easier than it appears.\\\" --OurCulture Mag (Most Anticipated Books of Spring 2026)

\\\"A comedic masterpiece. Part SNL sketch, part Spike Jonze film.\\\" --Ben Purkert, author of The Men Can't Be Saved

\\\"As surreal and ambitious as Tom McCarthy's Remainder, only written by someone with the comic instincts of Peep Show's Jesse Armstrong. But beneath the playfulness lies a thoughtful, tender meditation on the difficulty of being a man in the modern world: how to find purpose, how to make art that matters, and how to connect with other people when you suspect you might not possess a fully formed self to offer them. In Kennard's hands, the bag contains a lot . . . A brilliant comic tour de force.\\\" --The Sunday Times

\\\"What's most extraordinary about Black Bag isn't just its wry discursions to the psychology classroom, the sex dungeon, or the Swedish sawmill of the mind--though these are rendered with such phosphorescent wit that I could've read a book's worth of each. In Black Bag, we're treated to an uncommonly funny and deeply necessary snapshot of masculinity no more objectionable nor perfect than a black leather bag. Whoever thinks men aren't writing fiction clearly needs to read Luke Kennard.\\\" --Rafael Frumkin, author of Confidence

\\\"I would swear this in a court of law: Luke Kennard's Black Bag made me laugh aloud dozens and dozens of times. It's brilliant, a triumph of a book . . . I loved its inventive originality, and its ambition: it is very powerfully worth your time.\\\" --Guardian

\\\"A wryly subversive glimpse into the inner life of an actor who barely perceives how truly lost he is. It's clever, moving, biting, rich with integrity, and wildly funny.\\\" --Sierra Greer, award-winning author of Annie Bot

\\\"A fun novel that will make readers laugh, think, and possibly yearn for the safety of their own comforting sack.\\\" --Washington Independent Review of Books

\\\"How much can you fit in a large leather satchel? Luke Kennard suggests, when said bag is zipped up around the body of an out-of-work actor trying to find his way, the answer is near infinite: humor, dear friendship, frustrated desire, a talking dog, a wad of cash, hallucinogens, ambition, AI, humility, and no shortage of heart. Black Bag carried me along with a tremendously deft hand: it had me laughing, unnerved, and hopeful as it galloped through a true and strange world. This book left me reckoning with what to make of the society outside my proverbial eye slits, and what, with some effort, we might make of it still.\\\" --Emily Nemens, bestselling author of The Cactus League

\\\"A stylish, fun, and surprisingly incisive examination of masculinity, modernity, and attempting to make a living as a creative. It's also a weird little book about and, presumably for, sickos. Reading it hits like a concussion that makes you stranger but more compassionate. Easily the sharpest, funniest thing I've read all year.\\\" --Calvin Kasulke, author of Several People Are Typing

\\\"Equal parts charming and unhinged, Black Bag is the perfect novel for anyone who has ever felt like 'someone is constantly slapping me in the stomach with an old brown shoe.' This is one of hundreds (thousands?) of quotable lines from an immensely talented writer to watch. Luke Kennard, I will follow you anywhere.\\\" --Ruth Madievsky, bestselling and award-winning author of All Night Pharmacy\"},{\"id\":\"131495543T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Acting meets academia in this amusing novel about a bizarre experiment that raises questions about identity, masculinity and the complexities of love.

\"},{\"id\":\"120416506T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Luke Kennard is an award-winning poet and novelist. His poetry collection, Cain, was shortlisted for the International Dylan Thomas Prize and described by Alan Hollinghurst as \\\"the cleverest and funniest thing I've read this year,\\\" and Notes on the Sonnets won the Forward prize for Best Poetry Collection in 2021. The Transition, his first novel, was BBC Radio 4 Book at Bedtime and was longlisted for the Desmond Elliott Prize. His most recent poetry collection, The Book of Jonah, was published by Picador in 2025 and Black Bag, his third novel, was published by John Murray and Zando in 2026 and was longlisted for the Booker Prize. He is a professor of literature and creative writing at the University of Birmingham.

\"},{\"id\":\"113612906T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Luke Kennard is an award-winning poet and novelist. In 2014 he was named one of the Next Generation Poets by the Poetry Book Society in their once-per-decade list. His collection, Cain, was shortlisted for the International Dylan Thomas Prize and described by Alan Hollinghurst as “the cleverest and funniest thing I’ve read this year,” and Notes on the Sonnets won the Forward prize for Best Poetry Collection in 2021. The Transition, his first novel, was a BBC Radio 4 Book at Bedtime and longlisted for the Desmond Elliott Prize. The Book of Jonah, his new poetry collection, will be published by Picador in 2025. Luke Kennard lives in Birmingham, UK, where he teaches Creative Writing at Birmingham University.\"},{\"id\":\"131734111T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":3079,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3080},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564997660913","Black-Bag/Luke-Kennard",{"_41":3082,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3083},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564996284657","1147669432",{"_41":3085,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564996972785",{"_41":3087,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3063},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87685001314545",{"_41":3089,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3040},"gid://shopify/Metafield/46564995039473",{"_41":3091,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2581},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61442389934321",{"_41":3093,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":2642},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61442389901553",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3095,"_72":3096,"_946":2653,"_829":3097,"_937":3098,"_935":3099,"_2358":3100,"_948":3103,"_980":59,"_958":3105,"_2371":3108,"_1041":3117,"_1003":3119,"_1072":3120},"gid://shopify/Product/9674495820017","The End of Everything: A Novel","9798217438655","LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZEA haunting apocalyptic adventure, and a formidable exploration of what it means to be human in a shifting world, from \"one of the very great writers alive today.\" (China Miéville)\"A book not just about everything but about now.\" -Booker Prize Judge citationPhillip Tennent makes his living at the tideline, collecting artefacts that wash up from the Channel. It's been years since the crisis changed everything, but its exact nature remains obscure. Government barely functions, the seas are full of new creatures, an entire continent has been mislaid. It feels like the end.Now Phillip has fished out of the water an object he can't keep. A creature that keeps changing. An artefact he must take inland, before it destroys everything he thinks he knows. The End of Everything is a slyly satirical and unsettling post-apocalyptic adventure into the limits of human understanding, from the peerless master of contemporary fiction.","LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZE

A haunting apocalyptic adventure, and a formidable exploration of what it means to be human in a shifting world, from \"one of the very great writers alive today.\" (China Miéville)

\"A book not just about everything but about now.\" -Booker Prize Judge citation

Phillip Tennent makes his living at the tideline, collecting artefacts that wash up from the Channel. It's been years since the crisis changed everything, but its exact nature remains obscure. Government barely functions, the seas are full of new creatures, an entire continent has been mislaid. It feels like the end.

Now Phillip has fished out of the water an object he can't keep. A creature that keeps changing. An artefact he must take inland, before it destroys everything he thinks he knows. The End of Everything is a slyly satirical and unsettling post-apocalyptic adventure into the limits of human understanding, from the peerless master of contemporary fiction.",{"_41":3101,"_54":3102,"_56":2769,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/50200081170673","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9798217438655_p0.jpg?v=1785355762",{"_950":3104},{"_952":2824,"_954":955},{"_950":3106,"_956":3107},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3109},[3110],{"_41":3111,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3112,"_983":3113,"_928":3114,"_986":3115,"_990":3097,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/48422057410801",{"_41":3101,"_54":3102,"_2364":-5,"_56":2769,"_50":2363},{"_952":2824,"_954":955},{"_72":3096,"_829":3097},[3116],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3118},"[\"Recently Reviewed (p10276)\"]",{"_989":3097},[3121,-5,-5,3124,3126,-5,3128,3130,3133,3136,3139,-5,3141,3143,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3122,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3123},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221192196337","[{\"contributorId\":531421,\"fullName\":\"M. John Harrison\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3125,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221192524017",{"_41":3127,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221191901425",{"_41":3129,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221192589553",{"_41":3131,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3132},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221193670897","[{\"id\":\"131748203T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"PRAISE FOR M. JOHN HARRISON & THE END OF EVERYTHING:

\\\"A towering genius of modern fiction.\\\" -CHINA MIÉVILLE

\\\"Among the most brilliant novelists writing today.\\\"-ROBERT MACFARLANE

\\\"No one alive can write sentences as he can... Harrison is without peer as a chronicler of the fraught, unsteady state we're in.\\\"-OLIVIA LAING

\\\"Reading it hit me like a truck ... I don't think I'll read a better book this year, perhaps decade.\\\"-HELEN MACDONALD, OBSERVER (UK)

\\\"A Zen master of prose.\\\" -IAIN BANKS

\\\"Harrison isn't weirder than most other writers, just better. Reading The End of Everything, you feel you're not so much reading as dreaming.\\\" -TELEGRAPH (UK)

\\\"A memorable, haunting work...a world that's all the more uncanny on account of its proximity to our own.\\\" -IRISH TIMES

\\\"M. John Harrison is the closest thing we have to a present-day Wyndham or Ballard.\\\" ―NEW STATESMAN

\\\"Surreal, seductive, shrewdly funny and wholly terrifying. . . M. John Harrison is a complete original, and one of the finest working writers we have.\\\" -JULIA ARMFIELD\"},{\"id\":\"131764053T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"PRAISE FOR M. JOHN HARRISON & THE END OF EVERYTHING:

\\\"A towering genius of modern fiction.\\\" --CHINA MIÉVILLE

\\\"Among the most brilliant novelists writing today.\\\"--ROBERT MACFARLANE

\\\"No one alive can write sentences as he can... Harrison is without peer as a chronicler of the fraught, unsteady state we're in.\\\"--OLIVIA LAING

\\\"Reading it hit me like a truck ... I don't think I'll read a better book this year, perhaps decade.\\\"--HELEN MACDONALD, OBSERVER (UK)

\\\"A Zen master of prose.\\\" --IAIN BANKS

\\\"Harrison isn't weirder than most other writers, just better. Reading The End of Everything, you feel you're not so much reading as dreaming.\\\" --TELEGRAPH (UK)

\\\"A memorable, haunting work...a world that's all the more uncanny on account of its proximity to our own.\\\" --IRISH TIMES

\\\"M. John Harrison is the closest thing we have to a present-day Wyndham or Ballard.\\\" ―NEW STATESMAN

\\\"Surreal, seductive, shrewdly funny and wholly terrifying. . . M. John Harrison is a complete original, and one of the finest working writers we have.\\\" --JULIA ARMFIELD\"},{\"id\":\"131493408T\",\"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 Philip, a beach scavenger in fractured Britain, finds a mysterious artifact, he is drawn into a deeply surreal journey through a post-apocalyptic world where nothing is quite as it seems.

\"},{\"id\":\"131366533T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

M. John Harrison is the award-winning author of many novels, including Climbers, The Course of the Heart, and The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again. Over the last four decades, Harrison has carved out a stellar career across a number of literary forms, and is acclaimed by such writers as Angela Carter, Deborah Levy and Iain Banks. From 1968 to 1975, he was literary editor of the influential British science fiction magazine New Worlds. He has won the Boardman Tasker Prize, the Arthur C. Clarke Award and the Goldsmiths Prize. In 2025, he was elected as a Fellow the Royal Society of Literature. He lives in Shropshire, England.

\"},{\"id\":\"131403646T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":3134,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3135},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221193113841","The-End-of-Everything/M-John-Harrison",{"_41":3137,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3138},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221191770353","1148330812",{"_41":3140,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221192425713",{"_41":3142,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3118},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87614939201777",{"_41":3144,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3097},"gid://shopify/Metafield/87221190361329",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3146,"_72":3147,"_946":2653,"_829":3148,"_937":3149,"_935":3150,"_2358":3151,"_948":3154,"_980":59,"_958":3156,"_2371":3159,"_1041":3168,"_1003":3170,"_1072":3171},"gid://shopify/Product/9450385277169","The Disappearers: A Novel","9780593717202","LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZE \"Among Marlon James's most ambitious and history-making works... James is a singular literary talent.\" -Booker Prize judge's citation From Marlon James, author of the Booker Prize-winning A Brief History of Seven Killings: the electrifying story of the murder of a gay man in 1980s Jamaica and its far-reaching consequencesIn 1988, eight men in Kingston, Jamaica, begin rehearsals for a play. Though strangers to one another, they share an inescapable truth: All of them are gay. And they live in a world that refuses to accept them.One night the men are savagely beaten and one of them is killed. As their bodies heal, the survivors begin to face the hatred and contempt that the violence laid bare. Some try to ignore what happened. Others double down on retribution. Some disappear completely.In this spellbinding novel, Marlon James has written a propulsive crime story that is also a deeply human account of connection and acceptance. Full of fascinating characters, biting humor, and unapologetic sex, The Disappearers is both a thrilling page-turner and a finely etched portrait of queer life.","LONGLISTED FOR THE 2026 BOOKER PRIZE

\"Among Marlon James's most ambitious and history-making works... James is a singular literary talent.\" -Booker Prize judge's citation

From Marlon James, author of the Booker Prize-winning A Brief History of Seven Killings: the electrifying story of the murder of a gay man in 1980s Jamaica and its far-reaching consequences

In 1988, eight men in Kingston, Jamaica, begin rehearsals for a play. Though strangers to one another, they share an inescapable truth: All of them are gay. And they live in a world that refuses to accept them.

One night the men are savagely beaten and one of them is killed. As their bodies heal, the survivors begin to face the hatred and contempt that the violence laid bare. Some try to ignore what happened. Others double down on retribution. Some disappear completely.

In this spellbinding novel, Marlon James has written a propulsive crime story that is also a deeply human account of connection and acceptance. Full of fascinating characters, biting humor, and unapologetic sex, The Disappearers is both a thrilling page-turner and a finely etched portrait of queer life.",{"_41":3152,"_54":3153,"_56":2362,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48666558955761","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593717202_p0.jpg?v=1785354848",{"_950":3155},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_950":3157,"_956":3158},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3160},[3161],{"_41":3162,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3163,"_983":3164,"_928":3165,"_986":3166,"_990":3148,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47726983381233",{"_41":3152,"_54":3153,"_2364":-5,"_56":2362,"_50":2363},{"_952":2717,"_954":955},{"_72":3147,"_829":3148},[3167],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3169},"[\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\"]",{"_989":3148},[3172,-5,-5,3175,3177,-5,3179,3181,3184,3187,3190,-5,3192,3194,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3173,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3174},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697803755761","[{\"contributorId\":4745225,\"fullName\":\"Marlon James\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3176,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697803919601",{"_41":3178,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697802805489",{"_41":3180,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697803952369",{"_41":3182,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3183},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75698596446449","[{\"id\":\"127666075T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Early praise for The Disappearers

\\\"This language-rich novel is filled with vivid slang ... As always, James writes exceptionally well....This book may remind readers of works by John Rechy, Jean Genet, William Burroughs, and Hubert Selby, but James is his own man.\\\" - Library Journal (starred review)

\\\"Captivating and epic... James renders his characters' tumultuous inner lives with striking imagery and energy; their dialogue is rapid, keen, and hard-hitting. In all, a gritty, powerful, and gripping read.\\\"-Booklist

\\\"Galvanizing ... Equal parts detective story and sociocultural history, James' new novel takes a deep, harrowing dive into the tragic consequences of violent homophobia ... with random, frantic voices that leave unsettling echoes.\\\" -Kirkus (starred review)\"},{\"id\":\"130456907T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Early praise for The Disappearers

\\\"This language-rich novel is filled with vivid slang ... As always, James writes exceptionally well....This book may remind readers of works by John Rechy, Jean Genet, William Burroughs, and Hubert Selby, but James is his own man.\\\" - Library Journal (starred review)

\\\"Captivating and epic... James renders his characters' tumultuous inner lives with striking imagery and energy; their dialogue is rapid, keen, and hard-hitting. In all, a gritty, powerful, and gripping read.\\\"-Booklist

\\\"Galvanizing ... Equal parts detective story and sociocultural history, James' new novel takes a deep, harrowing dive into the tragic consequences of violent homophobia ... with random, frantic voices that leave unsettling echoes.\\\" -Kirkus (starred review)\"},{\"id\":\"131297460T\",\"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 author of the Booker Prize–winning A Brief History of Seven Killings returns with a deeply human story exploring queer life in Jamaica during the 1980s and 1990s.

\"},{\"id\":\"122620053T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Marlon James is the Booker Prize-winning and New York Times bestselling author of A Brief History of Seven Killings; the bestselling and National Book Award finalist Black Leopard, Red Wolf; as well as the bestselling Moon Witch, Spider King; The Book of Night Women; and John Crow's Devil. In addition to the Booker Prize, James's novels have won the American Book Award, the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, the OCM Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature, and the Los Angeles Times Ray Bradbury Prize for Science Fiction, and have been finalists for the National Book Critics Circle Award and the NAACP Image Award. The recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship and named in 2019 one of Time magazine's one hundred most influential people in the world, James lives in New York City.

\"},{\"id\":\"132028993T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

\"}]",{"_41":3185,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3186},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697804214513","The-Disappearers/Marlon-James",{"_41":3188,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3189},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697802739953","1149150233",{"_41":3191,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697803886833",{"_41":3193,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3169},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75831257202929",{"_41":3195,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3148},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75697802248433",{"_26":75,"_76":10,"_54":3197},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/the-2026-booker-prize-longlist","The Booker Prize 2026 Longlist",{"_33":3200,"_26":1500,"_1490":3201,"_72":3479},"29a004db3ba0",{"_1493":3202,"_1502":233,"_1902":1903,"_1904":1905,"_104":-5,"_54":3477},[3203,3258,3309,3367,3422],{"_2351":2352,"_41":3204,"_72":3205,"_946":2653,"_829":3206,"_937":3207,"_935":3208,"_2358":3209,"_948":3213,"_980":59,"_958":3215,"_2371":3218,"_1041":3227,"_1003":3229,"_1072":3230},"gid://shopify/Product/9367798710513","Penelope Rex vs. the New Kid","9781368108706","A brand-new Penelope Rex book from Ryan T. Higgins, the #1 New York Times best-selling author-illustrator ofWe Don’t Eat Our Classmates and Mother Bruce! Just when she has gotten used to being the only dinosaur in a class full of children, Penelope Rex is surprised to learn that the new kid is…a dinosaur just like her! Will the playground be big enough for the two of them?Penelope Rex is the only dinosaur in her school and she likes it that way. But when a new kid joins her class, Penelope doesn’t know how to feel about it—because this new kid is another dinosaur! As she tries to welcome Patty Topps, Penelope is faced with some dino-size questions about standing out, fitting in, and what really makes her feel special. Readers will root for Penelope as she navigates what it means to be one of a kind (even if she’s no longer the only kid in her class who is seven feet tall and covered in scales). Read all of the Penelope Rex books!· We Don't Eat Our Classmates· We Will Rock Our Classmates· We Don't Lose Our Class Goldfish· Bundle Up, Penelope Rex· Penelope Rex and the Problem with Pets","A brand-new Penelope Rex book from Ryan T. Higgins, the #1 New York Times best-selling author-illustrator ofWe Don’t Eat Our Classmates and Mother Bruce!

Just when she has gotten used to being the only dinosaur in a class full of children, Penelope Rex is surprised to learn that the new kid is…a dinosaur just like her! Will the playground be big enough for the two of them?

Penelope Rex is the only dinosaur in her school and she likes it that way. But when a new kid joins her class, Penelope doesn’t know how to feel about it—because this new kid is another dinosaur! As she tries to welcome Patty Topps, Penelope is faced with some dino-size questions about standing out, fitting in, and what really makes her feel special.

Readers will root for Penelope as she navigates what it means to be one of a kind (even if she’s no longer the only kid in her class who is seven feet tall and covered in scales).

Read all of the Penelope Rex books!

· We Don't Eat Our Classmates
· We Will Rock Our Classmates
· We Don't Lose Our Class Goldfish
· Bundle Up, Penelope Rex
· Penelope Rex and the Problem with Pets",{"_41":3210,"_54":3211,"_56":2363,"_50":3212,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48710215303409","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781368108706_p0.jpg?v=1770898918",1510,{"_950":3214},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},{"_950":3216,"_956":3217},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3219},[3220],{"_41":3221,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3222,"_983":3223,"_928":3224,"_986":3225,"_990":3206,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47136290046193",{"_41":3210,"_54":3211,"_2364":-5,"_56":2363,"_50":3212},{"_952":2539,"_954":955},{"_72":3205,"_829":3206},[3226],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3228},"[\"Picture Books (p4127)\",\"Mac and Cheese: The Origin Story Only $9.99 With the Purchase of Any Kids Book (p1150)\",\"Barnes & Noble @ School (p310)\",\"Our Most Anticipated Books (p10162)\"]",{"_989":3206},[3231,3234,-5,3237,3239,-5,3241,3243,3246,3249,3252,-5,3254,3256,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3232,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3233},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854990909681","[{\"contributorId\":10778060,\"fullName\":\"Ryan T. Higgins\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3235,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3236},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991007985","Penelope Rex Series",{"_41":3238,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991106289",{"_41":3240,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854990778609",{"_41":3242,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991139057",{"_41":3244,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3245},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73855272648945","[{\"id\":\"119068502T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"PRAISE FOR WE DON'T EAT OUR CLASSMATES
\\\"[T]he bright colors and deceptively adorable dinosaurs make this a fun read rather than a scary one, with a hidden lesson about boundaries. Too much fun for a single read.\\\"—Booklist

\\\"For the times when students struggle to understand one another and when impulse control needs a little strengthening, pair this winner with Mo Willems’s Edwina, the Dinosaur Who Didn’t Know She Was Extinct. An appealing read-aloud selection.\\\"—SLJ

\\\"Higgins (“Mother Bruce”) knows how to make big, scary animals seem vulnerable, lovable and funny, adding a strategic touch of gross-out when our heroine spits her victims back up.\\\"—New York Times Book Reviews

\\\"Higgins once again delivers sassy dialogue, flawless comic pacing, and faith in the ability of children to learn and grow.\\\"—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

\\\"Higgins' illustrations combine scanned textures, graphite, ink, and Photoshop elements, and they feature a wonderfully diverse class that includes a girl in hijab, a tyke in glasses, and a boy wearing a kippah amid classmates of varying skin and hair colors and body types. Fans of macabre, tongue-in-cheek humor (and twist endings!) will enjoy time spent with Penelope.\\\"—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

PRAISE FOR WE WILL ROCK OUR CLASSMATES
A thoughtful and humorous story. Penelope’s latest adventure is a welcome addition for young readers and a suggested first purchase for all libraries.—School Library Journal (starred review)

Higgins perfectly captures Penelope’s seesawing emotions, the highest highs and the lowest lows.—Kirkus (starred review)\"},{\"id\":\"131344427T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"PRAISE FOR WE DON'T EAT OUR CLASSMATES
\\\"[T]he bright colors and deceptively adorable dinosaurs make this a fun read rather than a scary one, with a hidden lesson about boundaries. Too much fun for a single read.\\\"--Booklist

\\\"For the times when students struggle to understand one another and when impulse control needs a little strengthening, pair this winner with Mo Willems's Edwina, the Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct. An appealing read-aloud selection.\\\"--SLJ

\\\"Higgins (\\\"Mother Bruce\\\") knows how to make big, scary animals seem vulnerable, lovable and funny, adding a strategic touch of gross-out when our heroine spits her victims back up.\\\"--New York Times Book Reviews

\\\"Higgins once again delivers sassy dialogue, flawless comic pacing, and faith in the ability of children to learn and grow.\\\"--Publishers Weekly (starred review)

\\\"Higgins' illustrations combine scanned textures, graphite, ink, and Photoshop elements, and they feature a wonderfully diverse class that includes a girl in hijab, a tyke in glasses, and a boy wearing a kippah amid classmates of varying skin and hair colors and body types. Fans of macabre, tongue-in-cheek humor (and twist endings!) will enjoy time spent with Penelope.\\\"--Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

PRAISE FOR WE WILL ROCK OUR CLASSMATES
A thoughtful and humorous story. Penelope's latest adventure is a welcome addition for young readers and a suggested first purchase for all libraries.--School Library Journal (starred review)

Higgins perfectly captures Penelope's seesawing emotions, the highest highs and the lowest lows.--Kirkus (starred review)\"},{\"id\":\"129873877T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Penelope doesn't know how to feel about the new dinosaur in her class. Is this classroom big enough for the both of them?! Celebrate what makes each of us unique in this fun new Penelope Rex story.

\"},{\"id\":\"119068503T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Ryan T. Higgins is the author and illustrator of a number of bestselling and award-winning books, including Mother Bruce, We Don’t Eat Our Classmates, Norman Didn’t Do It!, and What About Worms!?an Elephant and Piggie Like Reading! book. He lives in Maine with his three kids, three dogs, two cats, one gecko, one tortoise, and one wife.

\"},{\"id\":\"131344435T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

Ryan T. Higgins is the author and illustrator of a number of bestselling and award-winning books, including Mother Bruce, We Don't Eat Our Classmates, Norman Didn't Do It!, and What About Worms!?an Elephant and Piggie Like Reading! book. He lives in Maine with his three kids, three dogs, two cats, one gecko, one tortoise, and one wife.

\"}]",{"_41":3247,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3248},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991401201","Penelope-Rex-vs-the-New-Kid/Ryan-T-Higgins",{"_41":3250,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3251},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854990713073","1148772789",{"_41":3253,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991073521",{"_41":3255,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3228},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854991663345",{"_41":3257,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3206},"gid://shopify/Metafield/73854990188785",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3259,"_72":3260,"_946":2653,"_829":3261,"_937":3262,"_935":3263,"_2358":3264,"_948":3268,"_980":59,"_958":3270,"_2371":3273,"_1041":3282,"_1003":3283,"_1072":3284},"gid://shopify/Product/9448598765809","A Day Off School","9798217039999","A hilarious picture book from the mind of #1 New York Times bestselling creator Oliver Jeffers, about what incredible things you might miss if you take the day off school . . .A whole day off school! ALL TO HIMSELF!!When Herbie has the sniffles, he stays home from school. It’s exciting to have time to play Space Blasters and watch cartoons. But by lunchtime, he wonders what fun he might be missing at school. What if there’s an extra playtime, a dog on the loose . . . or even A PIRATE INVASION?A hilarious, action-packed story from globally bestselling picture book creator Oliver Jeffers and award-winning illustrator Kevin Waldron.","A hilarious picture book from the mind of #1 New York Times bestselling creator Oliver Jeffers, about what incredible things you might miss if you take the day off school . . .

A whole day off school! ALL TO HIMSELF!!

When Herbie has the sniffles, he stays home from school. It’s exciting to have time to play Space Blasters and watch cartoons. But by lunchtime, he wonders what fun he might be missing at school. What if there’s an extra playtime, a dog on the loose . . . or even A PIRATE INVASION?

A hilarious, action-packed story from globally bestselling picture book creator Oliver Jeffers and award-winning illustrator Kevin Waldron.",{"_41":3265,"_54":3266,"_56":3267,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/48588499845361","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9798217039999_p0.jpg?v=1769484838",1733,{"_950":3269},{"_952":2481,"_954":955},{"_950":3271,"_956":3272},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3274},[3275],{"_41":3276,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3277,"_983":3278,"_928":3279,"_986":3280,"_990":3261,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/47720473592049",{"_41":3265,"_54":3266,"_2364":-5,"_56":3267,"_50":2363},{"_952":2481,"_954":955},{"_72":3260,"_829":3261},[3281],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3228},{"_989":3261},[3285,-5,-5,3288,3290,-5,3292,3294,3297,3300,3303,-5,3305,3307,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3286,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3287},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437223153","[{\"contributorId\":4214067,\"fullName\":\"Oliver Jeffers\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":10787265,\"fullName\":\"Kevin Waldron\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":3289,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437386993",{"_41":3291,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437092081",{"_41":3293,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437419761",{"_41":3295,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3296},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629540507889","[{\"id\":\"126950364T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Herbie gets to stay home from school and do all the things he likes most, but as the day goes on his imagination runs wild… and he starts to wonder what he might be missing.

\"},{\"id\":\"122479235T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Oliver Jeffers is a visual artist and author working in painting, bookmaking, illustration, collage, performance, and sculpture. His engagements and practice are truly international in scope. His critically acclaimed picture books have been the recipients of numerous awards, including a New York Times Best Illustrated Children’s Books Award, TIME Best Book of the Year, the Bologna Ragazzi Award, an Irish Book Award, a United Kingdom Literary Association Award, and two Emmy Awards for the Apple TV adaptation of Here We Are: Notes For Living on Planet Earth. He has exhibited at institutions such as the Brooklyn Museum in New York, the National Portrait Gallery in London, and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. Jeffers's work is currently featured in the new long-term exhibition Building Stories at the National Building Museum in Washington, DC. He also recently received a Member of the Order of the British Empire Award (MBE) for his services in art.

Kevin Waldron was born and raised in Dublin. After graduating with a degree in Graphic Design from D. I. T., he moved to London to study for an MA in Illustration at Kingston University. His first book, Mr. Peek and the Misunderstanding at the Zoo (Templar Publishing) won the Bologna Ragazzi Opera Prima Award in 2009. He illustrated Tiny Little Fly (Walker Books), written by Michael Rosen, which won the Bull-Bransom Award for Excellence in Children’s Illustration in 2011. The same year, he was also named a BookTrust Best New Illustrator. Kevin has now made New York his home, where he makes picture books from his Brooklyn studio.

\"}]",{"_41":3298,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3299},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437681905","A-Day-Off-School/Oliver-Jeffers",{"_41":3301,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3302},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437026545","1149196861",{"_41":3304,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437354225",{"_41":3306,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3228},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629437976817",{"_41":3308,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3261},"gid://shopify/Metafield/75629436502257",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3310,"_72":3311,"_946":3312,"_829":3313,"_937":3314,"_935":3315,"_2358":3316,"_948":3321,"_980":59,"_958":3324,"_2371":3327,"_1041":3336,"_1003":3338,"_1072":3339},"gid://shopify/Product/8848263479537","You're My Little Bookworm (Board Book for Babies and Toddlers 0-2 years old)","Board Book","9781667204567","This sweet, rhyming story with interactive die-cuts is perfect to share with your own little bookworm!National Bestselling Series-More Than 4.1 Million Books Sold!Come here, my little bookworm,Let's snuggle up and read.Adventures bold, new worlds unfold,Just us, that's all we need.You're My Little Bookworm is a cute rhyming story that celebrates the love between a parent and child. Each colorful spread features a sweet sentiment-a smart cookie, a gold star, and more-paired with a die-cut shape that provides a tactile reading experience. With chunky pages for little hands and heartfelt text, this book is the perfect read for back-to-school or any time of the year!Perfect for... Baby or toddler 0-3 years old. New baby or parent gift. Baby shower gift. Nursery library gift. Baby girl or baby boy gift. Baptism, birthday, shower, or christening gift. Get to know the You're My Little series from Silver Dolphin Books!From Valentine's Day to Christmas Day and every day in between, the bestselling You're My Little series is cute as can be-and fun too! Pages from these delightful books feature adorable illustrations by Natalie Marshall, as well as shaped cut-outs, raised elements, or even stickers. Perfect for cuddling up with your little one, these sweet rhyming stories celebrate a parent's love for their child.","This sweet, rhyming story with interactive die-cuts is perfect to share with your own little bookworm!

National Bestselling Series-More Than 4.1 Million Books Sold!
Come here, my little bookworm,
Let's snuggle up and read.
Adventures bold, new worlds unfold,
Just us, that's all we need.

You're My Little Bookworm is a cute rhyming story that celebrates the love between a parent and child. Each colorful spread features a sweet sentiment-a smart cookie, a gold star, and more-paired with a die-cut shape that provides a tactile reading experience. With chunky pages for little hands and heartfelt text, this book is the perfect read for back-to-school or any time of the year!

Perfect for...

Baby or toddler 0-3 years old.
New baby or parent gift.
Baby shower gift.
Nursery library gift.
Baby girl or baby boy gift.
Baptism, birthday, shower, or christening gift.

Get to know the You're My Little series from Silver Dolphin Books!
From Valentine's Day to Christmas Day and every day in between, the bestselling You're My Little series is cute as can be-and fun too! Pages from these delightful books feature adorable illustrations by Natalie Marshall, as well as shaped cut-outs, raised elements, or even stickers. Perfect for cuddling up with your little one, these sweet rhyming stories celebrate a parent's love for their child.",{"_41":3317,"_54":3318,"_56":3319,"_50":3320,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47534649868529","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781667204567_p0.jpg?v=1768957488",1395,1404,{"_950":3322},{"_952":3323,"_954":955},"9.99",{"_950":3325,"_956":3326},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3328},[3329],{"_41":3330,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3331,"_983":3332,"_928":3333,"_986":3334,"_990":3313,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46246396723441",{"_41":3317,"_54":3318,"_2364":-5,"_56":3319,"_50":3320},{"_952":3323,"_954":955},{"_72":3311,"_829":3313},[3335],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3337},"[\"This Is the Way We Go to School (p1414)\",\"Mac and Cheese: The Origin Story Only $9.99 With the Purchase of Any Kids Book (p1150)\",\"Barnes & Noble @ School (p310)\",\"Back to School: Pre-K - Grade 3 (p3729)\"]",{"_989":3313},[3340,3343,-5,3346,3348,-5,3350,3352,3355,3358,3361,-5,3363,3365,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3341,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3342},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736605671665","[{\"contributorId\":3948699,\"fullName\":\"Nicola Edwards\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":13306203,\"fullName\":\"Natalie Marshall\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":3344,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3345},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736605999345","You're My Little Series",{"_41":3347,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":3312},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736606261489",{"_41":3349,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":3312},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736605245681",{"_41":3351,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":906},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736606327025",{"_41":3353,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3354},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736607736049","[{\"id\":\"131295643T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"With chunky pages for little hands and heartfelt text, the book is the perfect read for back-to-school or any time of the year.- Anathi Mlonyeni Weekend Argus\"},{\"id\":\"131295650T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Nicola Edwards was raised by the seaside in beautiful Brighton. She loves reading, dancing, rhyming, and turquoise things. She now lives with her husband, two children, and an insane number of house plants in North London, where she spends her days writing and editing children's books.

Natalie Marshall is an Australian illustrator, author, and designer. Her extensive design background and strong graphic illustration style-combined with her signature bold palette and unique characters-has seen her client list grow over the last 17 years to include both local and international clients. Nat has illustrated more than 150 internationally published children's books. Her titles feature regularly on bestseller lists and bring joy to kids (and parents) around the world. Natalie is the illustrator of the best-selling You're My Little series of books published in the United States by Silver Dolphin Books. Nat lives near the beach in Melbourne with her two children, her bike-loving scientist husband, and her dog Obi-Wan Butterbear, who likes to run fast and bark loudly. She is a traveller at heart and has lived and worked in New York and London. Nat has traveled extensively on a motorbike in Europe, but her best adventure was taking her children swimming with whale sharks at Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia.

\"},{\"id\":\"131295651T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Nicola Edwards was raised by the seaside in beautiful Brighton. She loves reading, dancing, rhyming, and turquoise things. She now lives with her husband, two children, and an insane number of house plants in North London, where she spends her days writing and editing children’s books.

Natalie Marshall is an Australian illustrator, author, and designer. Her extensive design background and strong graphic illustration style—combined with her signature bold palette and unique characters—has seen her client list grow over the last 17 years to include both local and international clients. Nat has illustrated more than 150 internationally published children’s books. Her titles feature regularly on bestseller lists and bring joy to kids (and parents) around the world. Natalie is the illustrator of the best—selling You're My Little series of books published in the United States by Silver Dolphin Books. Nat lives near the beach in Melbourne with her two children, her bike—loving scientist husband, and her dog Obi—Wan Butterbear, who likes to run fast and bark loudly. She is a traveller at heart and has lived and worked in New York and London. Nat has traveled extensively on a motorbike in Europe, but her best adventure was taking her children swimming with whale sharks at Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia.\"},{\"id\":\"131295649T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Nicola Edwards was raised by the seaside in beautiful Brighton. She loves reading, dancing, rhyming, and turquoise things. She now lives with her husband, two children, and an insane number of house plants in North London, where she spends her days writing and editing children's books.

Natalie Marshall is an Australian illustrator, author, and designer. Her extensive design background and strong graphic illustration style--combined with her signature bold palette and unique characters--has seen her client list grow over the last 17 years to include both local and international clients. Nat has illustrated more than 150 internationally published children's books. Her titles feature regularly on bestseller lists and bring joy to kids (and parents) around the world. Natalie is the illustrator of the best-selling You're My Little series of books published in the United States by Silver Dolphin Books. Nat lives near the beach in Melbourne with her two children, her bike-loving scientist husband, and her dog Obi-Wan Butterbear, who likes to run fast and bark loudly. She is a traveller at heart and has lived and worked in New York and London. Nat has traveled extensively on a motorbike in Europe, but her best adventure was taking her children swimming with whale sharks at Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia.\"}]",{"_41":3356,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3357},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736607113457","Youre-My-Little-Bookworm/Nicola-Edwards",{"_41":3359,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3360},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736605016305","1137938443",{"_41":3362,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736606195953",{"_41":3364,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3337},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736608063729",{"_41":3366,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3313},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39736602919153",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3368,"_72":3369,"_946":2653,"_829":3370,"_937":3371,"_935":3372,"_2358":3373,"_948":3376,"_980":59,"_958":3379,"_2371":3382,"_1041":3391,"_1003":3393,"_1072":3394},"gid://shopify/Product/8896684982513","Tiny T. Rex and the First-Day Oopsies: A Back-to-School Book","9781797233208","It's Tiny T. Rex's first day of school! In this addition to the bestselling series, Tiny is certain he's ready for anything at his BIG new school—but learns that even the best-prepared dinosaur will still meet some \"oopsies\" along the way!Tiny T. Rex is everyone's favorite pint-sized dinosaur, and he’s ready for his biggest adventure yet: the first day of school! Despite being a little dino in a big world, Tiny doesn't mind taking on a new challenge, even when it's the first day of a brand-new school.From his giant backpack to his good-luck bowtie, Tiny is prepared for anything—which means nothing can go wrong . . . right? With his best friend, Pointy, by his side, Tiny soon discovers that school isn't about getting everything perfect—it's about trying new things, learning along the way, and having friends beside you when oopsies happen.EVERYONE LOVES TINY: From the bestselling Tiny, Tiny T. Rex and the Impossible Hug onward, readers have fallen in love Tiny’s funny, heartwarming adventures, and his lovable determination in a big world. Dino-obsessed kids delight in hearing and laughing along with these tales.REASSURING BACK-TO-SCHOOL STORY: For home and classroom reading, this comforting picture book helps kids navigate first-day jitter, while showing that mistakes, mishaps, and trying new things are all part of learning and growing.SOCIAL-EMOTIONAL THEMES KIDS RELATE TO: Tiny’s adventures encourage resilience, friendship, empathy, self-confidence, and a positive attitude toward life’s everyday challenges.ENGAGING READ-ALOUD: Funny, expressive text paired with adorable, colorful illustrations make this a charming read-aloud kids will want to read again and again.Perfect for: Dinosaur-loving kids from babies and toddlers through ages 4-6 Parents, grandparents, teachers, and caregivers seeking funny kids' books Go-to choice for reassuring back-to-school books Fans of sweet, warm-hearted family picture books Baby shower, children's birthday, teacher, or classroom gift Fans of the Tiny T. Rex series and popular children's books like How Do Dinosaurs Go to School?, The Crayons Go Back to School, and The Pigeon HAS to Go to School!","It's Tiny T. Rex's first day of school! In this addition to the bestselling series, Tiny is certain he's ready for anything at his BIG new school—but learns that even the best-prepared dinosaur will still meet some \"oopsies\" along the way!

Tiny T. Rex is everyone's favorite pint-sized dinosaur, and he’s ready for his biggest adventure yet: the first day of school! Despite being a little dino in a big world, Tiny doesn't mind taking on a new challenge, even when it's the first day of a brand-new school.

From his giant backpack to his good-luck bowtie, Tiny is prepared for anything—which means nothing can go wrong . . . right? With his best friend, Pointy, by his side, Tiny soon discovers that school isn't about getting everything perfect—it's about trying new things, learning along the way, and having friends beside you when oopsies happen.

EVERYONE LOVES TINY: From the bestselling Tiny, Tiny T. Rex and the Impossible Hug onward, readers have fallen in love Tiny’s funny, heartwarming adventures, and his lovable determination in a big world. Dino-obsessed kids delight in hearing and laughing along with these tales.

REASSURING BACK-TO-SCHOOL STORY: For home and classroom reading, this comforting picture book helps kids navigate first-day jitter, while showing that mistakes, mishaps, and trying new things are all part of learning and growing.

SOCIAL-EMOTIONAL THEMES KIDS RELATE TO: Tiny’s adventures encourage resilience, friendship, empathy, self-confidence, and a positive attitude toward life’s everyday challenges.

ENGAGING READ-ALOUD: Funny, expressive text paired with adorable, colorful illustrations make this a charming read-aloud kids will want to read again and again.

Perfect for:

Dinosaur-loving kids from babies and toddlers through ages 4-6
Parents, grandparents, teachers, and caregivers seeking funny kids' books
Go-to choice for reassuring back-to-school books
Fans of sweet, warm-hearted family picture books
Baby shower, children's birthday, teacher, or classroom gift
Fans of the Tiny T. Rex series and popular children's books like How Do Dinosaurs Go to School?, The Crayons Go Back to School, and The Pigeon HAS to Go to School!\n

",{"_41":3374,"_54":3375,"_56":2363,"_50":2478,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47652595958001","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781797233208_p0.jpg?v=1768985037",{"_950":3377},{"_952":3378,"_954":955},"16.99",{"_950":3380,"_956":3381},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3383},[3384],{"_41":3385,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3386,"_983":3387,"_928":3388,"_986":3389,"_990":3370,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46299960115441",{"_41":3374,"_54":3375,"_2364":-5,"_56":2363,"_50":2478},{"_952":3378,"_954":955},{"_72":3369,"_829":3370},[3390],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3392},"[\"Picture Books (p4127)\",\"Mac and Cheese: The Origin Story Only $9.99 With the Purchase of Any Kids Book (p1150)\",\"Barnes & Noble @ School (p310)\"]",{"_989":3370},[3395,3398,-5,3401,3403,-5,3405,3407,3410,3413,3416,-5,3418,3420,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3396,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3397},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092030705","[{\"contributorId\":17761838,\"fullName\":\"Jonathan Stutzman\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":18565106,\"fullName\":\"Jay Fleck\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":3399,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3400},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092129009","Tiny T. Rex Series",{"_41":3402,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092227313",{"_41":3404,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073091899633",{"_41":3406,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092260081",{"_41":3408,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3409},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073093275889","[{\"id\":\"113057198T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"“Young children will relate to Tiny and his first day of school jitters, while being reassured that school is a place to make mistakes and grow.” — School Library Journal

“Tiny’s world is… vibrant and welcoming, filled with brightly colored, kindly dinosaurs, like BFF Pointy. Tiny models resilience, relying on the support of loved ones

and finding creative ways to cope with a too-big environment. It’s a comforting reminder that new experiences aren’t always easy, but they’re certainly worth it. Small but mighty, like its determined protagonist.” — Kirkus Reviews

\"},{\"id\":\"131389506T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"Tiny's world is... vibrant and welcoming, filled with brightly colored, kindly dinosaurs, like BFF Pointy. Tiny models resilience, relying on the support of loved ones

and finding creative ways to cope with a too-big environment. It's a comforting reminder that new experiences aren't always easy, but they're certainly worth it. Small but mighty, like its determined protagonist.\\\" -- Kirkus Reviews

\\\"Young children will relate to Tiny and his first day of school jitters, while being reassured that school is a place to make mistakes and grow.\\\" -- School Library Journal\"},{\"id\":\"112900198T\",\"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 world's cutest prehistoric apex predator is back... to school. This is a relatable and adorable way to help kids with first day jitters.

\"},{\"id\":\"109686503T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Jonathan Stutzman is the New York Times bestselling and award-winning children's book author and filmmaker. His work for children includes the bestselling Tiny T. Rex series as well as Llama Destroys the World illustrated by Heather Fox, Bear Is a Bear illustrated by Dan Santat, and many others. Jonathan lives in Pennsylvania, where right now he's most likely reading or thinking about new stories.

Jay Fleck is the author-illustrator of Crinkle, Crinkle, Little Car and the illustrator of a number of other children's books, including the New York Times bestselling Tiny T. Rex series. He resides in a suburb south of Chicago with his wife, two children, and loyal dog, Otis. He spends his spare time running and reading (but not at the same time).\"},{\"id\":\"109236484T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Jonathan Stutzman is an award-winning children's book author and filmmaker. His work for children includes the bestselling Tiny T. Rex series as well as Llama Destroys the World illustrated by Heather Fox, Bear Is a Bear illustrated by Dan Santat, and many others. Jonathan lives in Pennsylvania, where right now he's most likely reading or thinking about new stories.

Jay Fleck is the author-illustrator of Crinkle, Crinkle, Little Car and the illustrator of a number of other children's books, including the bestselling Tiny T. Rex series. He resides in a suburb south of Chicago with his wife, two children, and loyal dog, Otis. He spends his spare time running and reading (but not at the same time).\"}]",{"_41":3411,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3412},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092817137","Tiny-T-Rex-and-the-First-Day-Oopsies/Jonathan-Stutzman",{"_41":3414,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3415},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073091801329","1146610167",{"_41":3417,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073092194545",{"_41":3419,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3392},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073093406961",{"_41":3421,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3370},"gid://shopify/Metafield/42073091178737",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3423,"_72":3424,"_946":2653,"_829":3425,"_937":3426,"_935":3427,"_2358":3428,"_948":3432,"_980":59,"_958":3434,"_2371":3437,"_1041":3446,"_1003":3448,"_1072":3449},"gid://shopify/Product/8847911583985","The Crayons Go Back to School","9780593621110","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • The hilarious Crayons from The Day the Crayons Quit are ready to go back to school in this mini hardcover book!Purple Crayon loves math!White Crayon loves reading!The Crayons are getting ready to go back to school, and each crayon has a subject they’re looking forward to the most. They’re also ready to meet new friends . . . and let loose during their very favorite time of day: art class.","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • The hilarious Crayons from The Day the Crayons Quit are ready to go back to school in this mini hardcover book!

Purple Crayon loves math!
White Crayon loves reading!

The Crayons are getting ready to go back to school, and each crayon has a subject they’re looking forward to the most. They’re also ready to meet new friends . . . and let loose during their very favorite time of day: art class.",{"_41":3429,"_54":3430,"_56":3431,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47562063839473","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780593621110_p0.jpg?v=1768961018",1643,{"_950":3433},{"_952":3323,"_954":955},{"_950":3435,"_956":3436},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3438},[3439],{"_41":3440,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3441,"_983":3442,"_928":3443,"_986":3444,"_990":3425,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46246027297009",{"_41":3429,"_54":3430,"_2364":-5,"_56":3431,"_50":2363},{"_952":3323,"_954":955},{"_72":3424,"_829":3425},[3445],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3447},"[\"Picture Books (p4127)\",\"This Is the Way We Go to School (p1414)\",\"Social and Emotional Learning (p9063)\",\"Mac and Cheese: The Origin Story Only $9.99 With the Purchase of Any Kids Book (p1150)\",\"Barnes & Noble @ School (p310)\",\"Back to School: Pre-K - Grade 3 (p3729)\"]",{"_989":3425},[3450,3453,-5,3456,3458,-5,3460,3462,3465,3468,3471,-5,3473,3475,-5,-5,-5],{"_41":3451,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3452},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719211139313","[{\"contributorId\":4455810,\"fullName\":\"Drew Daywalt\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":4214067,\"fullName\":\"Oliver Jeffers\",\"jobName\":\"Illustrator\",\"sequenceNumber\":2}]",{"_41":3454,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3455},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719211466993","Drew Daywalt's Crayons Book Series",{"_41":3457,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719212024049",{"_41":3459,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":2653},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719210615025",{"_41":3461,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":2690},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719212187889",{"_41":3463,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3464},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719213760753","[{\"id\":\"124741315T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Praise for The Crayons Go Back to School:

\\\"A...congenial matriculant in publishing’s autumnal rite of back-to-school offerings.\\\" –Kirkus Reviews

\\\"In this illustration- and dialogue-driven story, Daywalt’s simple, one-sentence pages are expanded upon with playful crayon written dialogue and Jeffers’s beloved signature gouache, ink, colored pencil, and crayon illustrations. [L]ibraries will not want to quit expanding their collections of Daywalt titles with this bite-sized back-to-school send-off.\\\" –School Library Journal\"},{\"id\":\"113790831T\",\"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 beloved crayon characters are back for back-to-school of course… and they are thrilled about it. Fun, relatable and reassuring — these crayons are too cool for school.

\"},{\"id\":\"124741317T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Drew Daywalt grew up in a haunted house, but now lives in a Southern California home haunted only by his wife, two kids, and a German shepherd. A Hollywood screenwriter when he is not writing for young readers, Drew's favorite crayon is Black. He is the #1 bestselling author of The Day the Crayons Quit and The Day the Crayons Came Home, in addition to many other titles.

Oliver Jeffers is a creator of art for adults and children. An illustrator of fine art, his picture books have received numerous awards and much critical acclaim. The Day the Crayons Quit and The Day the Crayons Came Home were both #1 New York Times bestsellers. Oliver has become one of the world's most in-demand artists, creating pieces and graphics for TED Talks, the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and for U2's lyric video to the song \\\"Ordinary Love.\\\" You can find Oliver at OliverJeffers.com.

\"},{\"id\":\"86388744T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Drew Daywalt grew up in a haunted house, but now lives in a Southern California home haunted only by his wife, two kids, and a German shepherd. A Hollywood screenwriter when he is not writing for young readers, Drew's favorite crayon is Black. He is the #1 bestselling author of The Day the Crayons Quit and The Day the Crayons Came Home, in addition to many other titles.

Oliver Jeffers is a creator of art for adults and children. An illustrator of fine art, his picture books have received numerous awards and much critical acclaim. The Day the Crayons Quit and The Day the Crayons Came Home were both #1 New York Times bestsellers. Oliver has become one of the world's most in-demand artists, creating pieces and graphics for TED Talks, the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and for U2's lyric video to the song \\\"Ordinary Love.\\\" You can find Oliver at OliverJeffers.com.\"}]",{"_41":3466,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3467},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719213138161","The-Crayons-Go-Back-to-School/Drew-Daywalt",{"_41":3469,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3470},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719210123505","1142375149",{"_41":3472,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719211892977",{"_41":3474,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3447},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719214055665",{"_41":3476,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3425},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39719206224113",{"_26":75,"_76":10,"_54":3478},"https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/12-back-to-school-books-to-beat-the-first-day-jitters","Back to School Books to Beat First Day Jitters",{"_33":3481,"_26":1500,"_1490":3482,"_72":3797},"4ff7b8521b59",{"_1493":3483,"_1502":233,"_1902":1903,"_1904":1905,"_104":-5,"_54":3795},[3484,3543,3609,3674,3736],{"_2351":2352,"_41":3485,"_72":3486,"_946":947,"_829":3487,"_937":3488,"_935":3489,"_2358":3490,"_948":3494,"_980":59,"_958":3497,"_2371":3500,"_1041":3509,"_1003":3511,"_1072":3512},"gid://shopify/Product/8848250863857","Fahrenheit 451: A Novel","9781451673319","Nearly seventy years after its original publication, Ray Bradbury’s internationally acclaimed novel Fahrenheit 451 stands as a classic of world literature set in a bleak, dystopian future. Today its message has grown more relevant than ever before.Guy Montag is a fireman. His job is to destroy the most illegal of commodities, the printed book, along with the houses in which they are hidden. Montag never questions the destruction and ruin his actions produce, returning each day to his bland life and wife, Mildred, who spends all day with her television “family.” But when he meets an eccentric young neighbor, Clarisse, who introduces him to a past where people didn’t live in fear and to a present where one sees the world through the ideas in books instead of the mindless chatter of television, Montag begins to question everything he has ever known.","Nearly seventy years after its original publication, Ray Bradbury’s internationally acclaimed novel Fahrenheit 451 stands as a classic of world literature set in a bleak, dystopian future. Today its message has grown more relevant than ever before.

Guy Montag is a fireman. His job is to destroy the most illegal of commodities, the printed book, along with the houses in which they are hidden. Montag never questions the destruction and ruin his actions produce, returning each day to his bland life and wife, Mildred, who spends all day with her television “family.” But when he meets an eccentric young neighbor, Clarisse, who introduces him to a past where people didn’t live in fear and to a present where one sees the world through the ideas in books instead of the mindless chatter of television, Montag begins to question everything he has ever known.",{"_41":3491,"_54":3492,"_56":3493,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47849810985201","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781451673319_p0.jpg?v=1766001115",1311,{"_950":3495},{"_952":3496,"_954":955},"17.0",{"_950":3498,"_956":3499},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3501},[3502],{"_41":3503,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3504,"_983":3505,"_928":3506,"_986":3507,"_990":3487,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46246383354097",{"_41":3491,"_54":3492,"_2364":-5,"_56":3493,"_50":2363},{"_952":3496,"_954":955},{"_72":3486,"_829":3487},[3508],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3510},"[\"High School & College (p9064)\",\"Banned Books (p2167)\",\"Page & Screen (p4180)\",\"Classroom Literature & Nonfiction (p5500)\",\"B|Bestseller|#007C6C (p7858)\",\"BADGE - Best Seller (p7883)\"]",{"_989":3487},[3513,-5,-5,3516,3518,-5,3520,3522,3525,3528,3531,-5,3533,3535,-5,3537,3540],{"_41":3514,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3515},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735921311985","[{\"contributorId\":196312,\"fullName\":\"Ray Bradbury\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3517,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735922295025",{"_41":3519,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735920328945",{"_41":3521,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735922524401",{"_41":3523,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3524},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735925113073","[{\"id\":\"6247207T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.

Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame.

He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that smile, it never ever went away, as long as he remembered.

He hung up his black beetle-colored helmet and shined it; he hung his flameproof jacket neatly; he showered luxuriously, and then, whistling, hands in pockets, walked across the upper floor of the fire station and fell down the hole. At the last moment, when disaster seemed positive, he pulled his hands from his pockets and broke his fall by graspingthe golden pole. He slid to a squeaking halt, the heels one inch from the concrete floor downstairs.

He walked out of the fire station and along the midnight street toward the subway where the silent air-propelled train slid soundlessly down its lubricated flue in the earth and let him out with a great puff of warm air onto the cream-tiled escalator rising to the suburb.

Whistling, he let the escalator waft him into the still night air. He walked toward the corner, thinking little at all about nothing in particular. Before he reached the corner, however, he slowed as if a wind had sprung up from nowhere, as if someone had called his name.

The last few nights he had had the most uncertain feelings about the sidewalk just around the corner here, moving in the starlight toward his house. He had felt that a moment prior to his making the turn, someone had been there. The air seemed charged with a special calm as if someone had waited there, quietly, and only a moment before he came, simply turned to a shadow and let him through. Perhaps his nose detected a faint perfume, perhaps the skin on the backs of his hands, on his face, felt the temperature rise at this one spot where a person’s standing might raise the immediate atmosphere ten degrees for an instant. There was no understanding it. Each time he made the turn, he saw only the white, unused, buckling sidewalk, with perhaps, on one night, something vanishing swiftly across a lawn before he could focus his eyes or speak.

But now tonight, he slowed almost to a stop. His inner mind, reaching out to turn the corner for him, had heard the faintest whisper. Breathing? Or was the atmosphere compressed merely by someone standing very quietly there, waiting?

He turned the corner.

The autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavement in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding walk, letting the motion of the wind and the leaves carry her forward. Her head was half bent to watch her shoes stir the circling leaves. Her face was slender and milk-white, and in it was a kind of gentle hunger that touched over everything with tireless curiosity. It was a look, almost, of pale surprise; the dark eyes were so fixed to the world that no move escaped them. Her dress was white and it whispered. He almost thought he heard the motion of her hands as she walked, and the infinitely small sound now, the white stir of her face turning when she discovered she was a moment away from a man who stood in the middle of the pavement waiting.

The trees overhead made a great sound of letting down their dry rain. The girl stopped and looked as if she might pull back in surprise, but instead stood regarding Montag with eyes so dark and shining and alive that he felt he had said something quite wonderful. But he knew his mouth had only moved to say hello, and then when she seemed hypnotized by the salamander on his arm and the phoenix disc on his chest, he spoke again.

“Of course,” he said, “you’re our new neighbor, aren’t you?”

“And you must be”—she raised her eyes from his professional symbols “—the fireman.” Her voice trailed off.

“How oddly you say that.”

“I’d—I’d have known it with my eyes shut,” she said, slowly.

“What—the smell of kerosene? My wife always complains,” he laughed. “You never wash it off completely.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, in awe.

He felt she was walking in a circle about him, turning him end for end, shaking him quietly, and emptying his pockets, without once moving herself.

“Kerosene,” he said, because the silence had lengthened, “is nothing but perfume to me.”

“Does it seem like that, really?”

“Of course. Why not?”

She gave herself time to think of it. “I don’t know.” She turned to face the sidewalk going toward their homes. “Do you mind if I walk back with you? I’m Clarisse McClellan.”

“Clarisse. Guy Montag. Come along. What are you doing out so late wandering around? How old are you?”

They walked in the warm-cool blowing night on the silvered pavement and there was the faintest breath of fresh apricots and strawberries in the air, and he looked around and realized this was quite impossible, so late in the year.

There was only the girl walking with him now, her face bright as snow in the moonlight, and he knew she was working his questions around, seeking the best answers she could possibly give.

“Well,” she said, “I’m seventeen and I’m crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane. Isn’t this a nice time of night to walk? I like to smell things and look at things, and sometimes stay up all night, walking, and watch the sun rise.”

They walked on again in silence and finally she said, thoughtfully, “You know, I’m not afraid of you at all.”

He was surprised. “Why should you be?”

“So many people are. Afraid of firemen, I mean. But you’re just a man, after all . . .”

He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself dark and tiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact. Her face, turned to him now, was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it. It was not the hysterical light of electricity but—what? But the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of the candle. One time, as a child, in a power failure, his mother had found and lit a last candle and there had been a brief hour of rediscovery, of such illumination that space lost its vast dimensions and grew comfortably around them, and they, mother and son, alone, transformed, hoping that the power might not come on again too soon . . .

And then Clarisse McClellan said:

“Do you mind if I ask? How long’ve you worked at being a fireman?”

“Since I was twenty, ten years ago.”

“Do you ever read any of the books you burn?”

He laughed. “That’s against the law!”

“Oh. Of course.”

“It’s fine work. Monday burn Millay, Wednesday Whitman, Friday Faulkner, burn ’em to ashes, then burn the ashes. That’s our official slogan.”

They walked still farther and the girl said, “Is it true that long ago firemen put fires out instead of going to start them?”

“No. Houses have always been fireproof, take my word for it.”

“Strange. I heard once that a long time ago houses used to burn by accident and they needed firemen to stop the flames.”

He laughed.

She glanced quickly over. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” He started to laugh again and stopped. “Why?”

“You laugh when I haven’t been funny and you answer right off. You never stop to think what I’ve asked you.”

He stopped walking. “You are an odd one,” he said, looking at her. “Haven’t you any respect?”

“I don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just I love to watch people too much, I guess.”

“Well, doesn’t this mean anything to you?” He tapped the numerals 451 stitched on his char-colored sleeve.

“Yes,” she whispered. She increased her pace. “Have you ever watched the jet cars racing on the boulevards down that way?”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“I sometimes think drivers don’t know what grass is, or flowers, because they never see them slowly,” she said. “If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! he’d say, that’s grass! A pink blur! That’s a rose garden! White blurs are houses. Brown blurs are cows. My uncle drove slowly on a highway once. He drove forty miles an hour and they jailed him for two days. Isn’t that funny, and sad, too?”

“You think too many things,” said Montag, uneasily.

“I rarely watch the ‘parlor walls’ or go to races or Fun Parks. So I’ve lots of time for crazy thoughts, I guess. Have you seen the two hundred-foot-long billboards in the country beyond town? Did you know that once billboards were only twenty feet long? But cars started rushing by so quickly they had to stretch the advertising out so it would last.”

“I didn’t know that!” Montag laughed abruptly.

“Bet I know something else you don’t. There’s dew on the grass in the morning.”

He suddenly couldn’t remember if he had known this or not, and it made him quite irritable.

“And if you look”—she nodded at the sky—“there’s a man in the moon.”

He hadn’t looked for a long time.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, hers thoughtful, his a kind of clenching and uncomfortable silence in which he shot her accusing glances. When they reached her house all its lights were blazing.

“What’s going on?” Montag had rarely seen that many house lights.

“Oh, just my mother and father and uncle sitting around, talking. It’s like being a pedestrian, only rarer. My uncle was arrested another time—did I tell you?—for being a pedestrian. Oh, we’re most peculiar.”

“But what do you talk about?”

She laughed at this. “Good night!” She started up her walk. Then she seemed to remember something and came back to look at him with wonder and curiosity. “Are you happy?” she said.

“Am I what?” he cried.

But she was gone—running in the moonlight. Her front door shut gently.

“Happy! Of all the nonsense.”

He stopped laughing.

He put his hand into the glove hole of his front door and let it know his touch. The front door slid open.

Of course I’m happy. What does she think? I’m not? he asked the quiet rooms. He stood looking up at the ventilator grille in the hall and suddenly remembered that something lay hidden behind the grille, something that seemed to peer down at him now. He moved his eyes quickly away.

What a strange meeting on a strange night. He remembered nothing like it save one afternoon a year ago when he had met an old man in the park and they had talked . . .

Montag shook his head. He looked at a blank wall. The girl’s face was there, really quite beautiful in memory: astonishing, in fact. She had a very thin face like the dial of a small clock seen faintly in a dark room in the middle of a night when you waken to see the time and see the clock telling you the hour and the minute and the second, with a white silence and a glowing, all certainty and knowing what it had to tell of the night passing swiftly on toward further darknesses, but moving also toward a new sun.

“What?” asked Montag of the other self, the subconscious idiot that ran babbling at times, quite independent of will, habit, and conscience.

He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who refracted your own light to you? People were more often—he searched for a simile, found one in his work—torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people’s faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?

What incredible power of identification the girl had; she was like the eager watcher of a marionette show, anticipating each flicker of an eyelid, each gesture of his hand, each flick of a finger, the moment before it began. How long had they walked together? Three minutes? Five? Yet how large that time seemed now. How immense a figure she was on the stage before him; what a shadow she threw on the wall with her slender body! He felt that if his eye itched, she might blink. And if the muscles of his jaws stretched imperceptibly, she would yawn long before he would.

Why, he thought, now that I think of it, she almost seemed to be waiting for me there, in the street, so damned late at night . . .

He opened the bedroom door.

It was like coming into the cold marbled room of a mausoleum after the moon has set. Complete darkness, not a hint of the silver world outside, the windows tightly shut, the chamber a tomb world where no sound from the great city could penetrate. The room was not empty.

He listened.

The little mosquito-delicate dancing hum in the

Copyright 1987 by Ray Bradbury \"},{\"id\":\"119729593T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Fahrenheit 451 Introduction
Sometimes writers write about a world that does not yet exist. We do it for a hundred reasons. (Because it's good to look forward, not back. Because we need to illuminate a path we hope or we fear humanity will take. Because the world of the future seems more enticing or more interesting than the world of today. Because we need to warn you. To encourage. To examine. To imagine.) The reasons for writing about the day after tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that follow it, are as many and as varied as the people writing.

This is a book of warning. It is a reminder that what we have is valuable, and that sometimes we take what we value for granted.

There are three phrases that make possible the world of writing about the world of not-yet (you can call it science fiction or speculative fiction; you can call it anything you wish) and they are simple phrases:

What if . . . ?

If only . . .

If this goes on . . .

\\\"What if . . . ?\\\" gives us change, a departure from our lives. (What if aliens landed tomorrow and gave us everything we wanted, but at a price?)

\\\"If only . . .\\\" lets us explore the glories and dangers of tomorrow. (If only dogs could talk. If only I were invisible.)

\\\"If this goes on . . .\\\" is the most predictive of the three, although it doesn't try to predict an actual future with all its messy confusion. Instead, \\\"If this goes on . . .\\\" fiction takes an element of life today, something clear and obvious and normally something troubling, and asks what would happen if that thing, that one thing, became bigger, became all-pervasive, changed the way we thought and behaved. (If this goes on, all communication everywhere will be through text messages or computers, and direct speech between two people, without a machine, will be outlawed.)

It's a cautionary question, and it lets us explore cautionary worlds.

People think-wrongly-that speculative fiction is about predicting the future, but it isn't; or if it is, it tends to do a rotten job of it. Futures are huge things that come with many elements and a billion variables, and the human race has a habit of listening to predictions for what the future will bring and then doing something quite different.

What speculative fiction is really good at is not the future but the present-taking an aspect of it that troubles or is dangerous, and extending and extrapolating that aspect into something that allows the people of that time to see what they are doing from a different angle and from a different place. It's cautionary.

Fahrenheit 451 is speculative fiction. It's an \\\"If this goes on . . .\\\" story. Ray Bradbury was writing about his present, which is our past. He was warning us about things; some of those things are obvious, and some of them, half a century later, are harder to see.

Listen.

If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right.

If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are very definitely wrong.

Any story is about a host of things. It is about the author; it is about the world the author sees and deals with and lives in; it is about the words chosen and the way those words are deployed; it is about the story itself and what happens in the story; it is about the people in the story; it is polemic; it is opinion.

An author's opinions of what a story is about are always valid and are always true: the author was there, after all, when the book was written. She came up with each word and knows why she used that word instead of another. But an author is a creature of her time, and even she cannot see everything that her book is about.

More than half a century has passed since 1953. In America in 1953, the comparatively recent medium of radio was already severely on the wane-its reign had lasted about thirty years, but now the exciting new medium of television had come into ascendancy, and the dramas and comedies of radio were either ending for good or reinventing themselves with a visual track on the \\\"idiot box.\\\"

The news channels in America warned of juvenile delinquents-teenagers in cars who drove dangerously and lived for kicks. The Cold War was going on-a war between Russia and its allies and America and its allies in which nobody dropped bombs or fired bullets because a dropped bomb could tip the world into a Third World War, a nuclear war from which it would never return. The senate was holding hearings to root out hidden Communists and taking steps to stamp out comic books. And whole families were gathering around the television in the evenings.

The joke in the 1950s went that in the old days you could tell who was home by seeing if the lights were on; now you knew who was home by seeing who had their lights off. The televisions were small and the pictures were in black and white and you needed to turn off the light to get a good picture.

\\\"If this goes on . . .\\\" thought Ray Bradbury, \\\"nobody will read books anymore,\\\" and Fahrenheit 451 began. He had written a short story once called \\\"The Pedestrian,\\\" about a man who is incarcerated by the police after he is stopped simply for walking. That story became part of the world he was building, and seventeen-year-old Clarisse McLellan becomes a pedestrian in a world where nobody walks.

\\\"What if . . . firemen burned down houses instead of saving them?\\\" Bradbury thought, and now he had his way in to the story. He had a fireman named Guy Montag, who saved a book from the flames instead of burning it.

\\\"If only . . . books could be saved,\\\" he thought. If you destroy all the physical books, how can you still save them?

Bradbury wrote a story called \\\"The Fireman.\\\" The story demanded to be longer. The world he had created demanded more.

He went to UCLA's Powell Library. In the basement were typewriters you could rent by the hour, by putting coins into a box on the side of the typewriter. Ray Bradbury put his money into the box and typed his story. When inspiration flagged, when he needed a boost, when he wanted to stretch his legs, he would walk through the library and look at the books.

And then his story was done.

He called the Los Angeles fire department and asked them at what temperature paper burned. Fahrenheit 451, somebody told him. He had his title. It didn't matter if it was true or not.

The book was published and acclaimed. People loved the book, and they argued about it. It was a novel about censorship, they said, about mind control, about humanity. About government control of our lives. About books.

It was filmed by Francois Truffaut, although the film's ending seems darker than Bradbury's, as if the remembering of books is perhaps not the safety net that Bradbury imagines, but is in itself another dead end.

I read Fahrenheit 451 as a boy: I did not understand Guy Montag, did not understand why he did what he did, but I understood the love of books that drove him. Books were the most important things in my life. The huge wall-screen televisions were as futuristic and implausible as the idea that people on the television would talk to me, that I could take part if I had a script. Fahrenheit was never a favorite book: it was too dark, too bleak for that. But when I read a story called \\\"Usher II\\\" in The Silver Locusts (the UK title for The Martian Chronicles), I recognized the world of outlawed authors and imagination with a fierce sort of familiar joy.

When I reread it as a teenager, Fahrenheit 451 had become a book about independence, about thinking for yourself. It was about treasuring books and the dissent inside the covers of books. It was about how we as humans begin by burning books and end by burning people.

Rereading it as an adult, I find myself marveling at the book once more. It is all of those things, yes, but it is also a period piece. The four-wall television being described is the television of the 1950s: variety shows with symphony orchestras and low-brow comedians, and soap operas. The world of fast-driving, crazy teenagers out for kicks, of an endless cold war that sometimes goes hot, of wives who appear to have no jobs or identities save for their husbands', of bad men being chased by hounds (even mechanical hounds) is a world that feels like it has its roots firmly in the 1950s.

A young reader finding this book today, or the day after tomorrow, is going to have to imagine first a past, and then a future that belongs to that past.

But still, the heart of the book remains untouched, and the questions Bradbury raises remain as valid and important.

Why do we need the things in books? The poems, the essays, the stories? Authors disagree. Authors are human and fallible and foolish. Stories are lies after all, tales of people who never existed and the things that never actually happened to them. Why should we read them? Why should we care?

The teller and the tale are very different. We must not forget that.

Ideas-written ideas-are special. They are the way we transmit our stories and our thoughts from one generation to the next. If we lose them, we lose our shared history. We lose much of what makes us human. And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.

I knew Ray Bradbury for the last thirty years of his life, and I was so lucky. He was funny and gentle and always (even at the end, when he was so old he was blind and wheelchair-bound, even then) enthusiastic. He cared, completely and utterly, about things. He cared about toys and childhood and films. He cared about books. He cared about stories.

This is a book about caring for things. It's a love letter to books, but I think, just as much, it's a love letter to people, and a love letter to the world of Waukegan, Illinois, in the 1920s, the world in which Ray Bradbury had grown up and which he immortalized as Green Town in his book of childhood, Dandelion Wine.

As I said when we began: If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right. If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are probably wrong. So any of the things I have told you about Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury's remarkable book of warning, will be incomplete. It is about these things, yes. But it is about more than that. It is about what you find between its pages.

(As a final note, in these days when we worry and we argue about whether ebooks are real books, I love how broad Ray Bradbury's definition of a book is at the end, when he points out that we should not judge our books by their covers, and that some books exist between covers that are perfectly people-shaped.)

-Neil Gaiman

April 2013\"},{\"id\":\"68637823T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Fahrenheit 451

Sometimes writers write about a world that does not yet exist. We do it for a hundred reasons. (Because it’s good to look forward, not back. Because we need to illuminate a path we hope or we fear humanity will take. Because the world of the future seems more enticing or more interesting than the world of today. Because we need to warn you. To encourage. To examine. To imagine.) The reasons for writing about the day after tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that follow it, are as many and as varied as the people writing.

This is a book of warning. It is a reminder that what we have is valuable, and that sometimes we take what we value for granted.

There are three phrases that make possible the world of writing about the world of not-yet (you can call it science fiction or speculative fiction; you can call it anything you wish) and they are simple phrases:

What if . . . ?

If only . . .

If this goes on . . .

“What if . . . ?” gives us change, a departure from our lives. (What if aliens landed tomorrow and gave us everything we wanted, but at a price?)

“If only . . .” lets us explore the glories and dangers of tomorrow. (If only dogs could talk. If only I were invisible.)

“If this goes on . . .” is the most predictive of the three, although it doesn’t try to predict an actual future with all its messy confusion. Instead, “If this goes on . . .” fiction takes an element of life today, something clear and obvious and normally something troubling, and asks what would happen if that thing, that one thing, became bigger, became all-pervasive, changed the way we thought and behaved. (If this goes on, all communication everywhere will be through text messages or computers, and direct speech between two people, without a machine, will be outlawed.)

It’s a cautionary question, and it lets us explore cautionary worlds.

People think—wrongly—that speculative fiction is about predicting the future, but it isn’t; or if it is, it tends to do a rotten job of it. Futures are huge things that come with many elements and a billion variables, and the human race has a habit of listening to predictions for what the future will bring and then doing something quite different.

What speculative fiction is really good at is not the future but the present—taking an aspect of it that troubles or is dangerous, and extending and extrapolating that aspect into something that allows the people of that time to see what they are doing from a different angle and from a different place. It’s cautionary.

Fahrenheit 451 is speculative fiction. It’s an “If this goes on . . .” story. Ray Bradbury was writing about his present, which is our past. He was warning us about things; some of those things are obvious, and some of them, half a century later, are harder to see.

Listen.

If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right.

If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are very definitely wrong.

Any story is about a host of things. It is about the author; it is about the world the author sees and deals with and lives in; it is about the words chosen and the way those words are deployed; it is about the story itself and what happens in the story; it is about the people in the story; it is polemic; it is opinion.

An author’s opinions of what a story is about are always valid and are always true: the author was there, after all, when the book was written. She came up with each word and knows why she used that word instead of another. But an author is a creature of her time, and even she cannot see everything that her book is about.

More than half a century has passed since 1953. In America in 1953, the comparatively recent medium of radio was already severely on the wane—its reign had lasted about thirty years, but now the exciting new medium of television had come into ascendancy, and the dramas and comedies of radio were either ending for good or reinventing themselves with a visual track on the “idiot box.”

The news channels in America warned of juvenile delinquents—teenagers in cars who drove dangerously and lived for kicks. The Cold War was going on—a war between Russia and its allies and America and its allies in which nobody dropped bombs or fired bullets because a dropped bomb could tip the world into a Third World War, a nuclear war from which it would never return. The senate was holding hearings to root out hidden Communists and taking steps to stamp out comic books. And whole families were gathering around the television in the evenings.

The joke in the 1950s went that in the old days you could tell who was home by seeing if the lights were on; now you knew who was home by seeing who had their lights off. The televisions were small and the pictures were in black and white and you needed to turn off the light to get a good picture.

“If this goes on . . .” thought Ray Bradbury, “nobody will read books anymore,” and Fahrenheit 451 began. He had written a short story once called “The Pedestrian,” about a man who is incarcerated by the police after he is stopped simply for walking. That story became part of the world he was building, and seventeen-year-old Clarisse McLellan becomes a pedestrian in a world where nobody walks.

“What if . . . firemen burned down houses instead of saving them?” Bradbury thought, and now he had his way in to the story. He had a fireman named Guy Montag, who saved a book from the flames instead of burning it.

“If only . . . books could be saved,” he thought. If you destroy all the physical books, how can you still save them?

Bradbury wrote a story called “The Fireman.” The story demanded to be longer. The world he had created demanded more.

He went to UCLA’s Powell Library. In the basement were typewriters you could rent by the hour, by putting coins into a box on the side of the typewriter. Ray Bradbury put his money into the box and typed his story. When inspiration flagged, when he needed a boost, when he wanted to stretch his legs, he would walk through the library and look at the books.

And then his story was done.

He called the Los Angeles fire department and asked them at what temperature paper burned. Fahrenheit 451, somebody told him. He had his title. It didn’t matter if it was true or not.

The book was published and acclaimed. People loved the book, and they argued about it. It was a novel about censorship, they said, about mind control, about humanity. About government control of our lives. About books.

It was filmed by Francois Truffaut, although the film’s ending seems darker than Bradbury’s, as if the remembering of books is perhaps not the safety net that Bradbury imagines, but is in itself another dead end.

I read Fahrenheit 451 as a boy: I did not understand Guy Montag, did not understand why he did what he did, but I understood the love of books that drove him. Books were the most important things in my life. The huge wall-screen televisions were as futuristic and implausible as the idea that people on the television would talk to me, that I could take part if I had a script. Fahrenheit was never a favorite book: it was too dark, too bleak for that. But when I read a story called “Usher II” in The Silver Locusts (the UK title for The Martian Chronicles), I recognized the world of outlawed authors and imagination with a fierce sort of familiar joy.

When I reread it as a teenager, Fahrenheit 451 had become a book about independence, about thinking for yourself. It was about treasuring books and the dissent inside the covers of books. It was about how we as humans begin by burning books and end by burning people.

Rereading it as an adult, I find myself marveling at the book once more. It is all of those things, yes, but it is also a period piece. The four-wall television being described is the television of the 1950s: variety shows with symphony orchestras and low-brow comedians, and soap operas. The world of fast-driving, crazy teenagers out for kicks, of an endless cold war that sometimes goes hot, of wives who appear to have no jobs or identities save for their husbands’, of bad men being chased by hounds (even mechanical hounds) is a world that feels like it has its roots firmly in the 1950s.

A young reader finding this book today, or the day after tomorrow, is going to have to imagine first a past, and then a future that belongs to that past.

But still, the heart of the book remains untouched, and the questions Bradbury raises remain as valid and important.

Why do we need the things in books? The poems, the essays, the stories? Authors disagree. Authors are human and fallible and foolish. Stories are lies after all, tales of people who never existed and the things that never actually happened to them. Why should we read them? Why should we care?

The teller and the tale are very different. We must not forget that.

Ideas—written ideas—are special. They are the way we transmit our stories and our thoughts from one generation to the next. If we lose them, we lose our shared history. We lose much of what makes us human. And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.

I knew Ray Bradbury for the last thirty years of his life, and I was so lucky. He was funny and gentle and always (even at the end, when he was so old he was blind and wheelchair-bound, even then) enthusiastic. He cared, completely and utterly, about things. He cared about toys and childhood and films. He cared about books. He cared about stories.

This is a book about caring for things. It’s a love letter to books, but I think, just as much, it’s a love letter to people, and a love letter to the world of Waukegan, Illinois, in the 1920s, the world in which Ray Bradbury had grown up and which he immortalized as Green Town in his book of childhood, Dandelion Wine.

As I said when we began: If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right. If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are probably wrong. So any of the things I have told you about Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury’s remarkable book of warning, will be incomplete. It is about these things, yes. But it is about more than that. It is about what you find between its pages.

(As a final note, in these days when we worry and we argue about whether ebooks are real books, I love how broad Ray Bradbury’s definition of a book is at the end, when he points out that we should not judge our books by their covers, and that some books exist between covers that are perfectly people-shaped.)

—Neil Gaiman

April 2013\"},{\"id\":\"6247232T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Fahrenheit 451
Sometimes writers write about a world that does not yet exist. We do it for a hundred reasons. (Because it’s good to look forward, not back. Because we need to illuminate a path we hope or we fear humanity will take. Because the world of the future seems more enticing or more interesting than the world of today. Because we need to warn you. To encourage. To examine. To imagine.) The reasons for writing about the day after tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that follow it, are as many and as varied as the people writing.

This is a book of warning. It is a reminder that what we have is valuable, and that sometimes we take what we value for granted.

There are three phrases that make possible the world of writing about the world of not-yet (you can call it science fiction or speculative fiction; you can call it anything you wish) and they are simple phrases:

What if . . . ?

If only . . .

If this goes on . . .

“What if . . . ?” gives us change, a departure from our lives. (What if aliens landed tomorrow and gave us everything we wanted, but at a price?)

“If only . . .” lets us explore the glories and dangers of tomorrow. (If only dogs could talk. If only I were invisible.)

“If this goes on . . .” is the most predictive of the three, although it doesn’t try to predict an actual future with all its messy confusion. Instead, “If this goes on . . .” fiction takes an element of life today, something clear and obvious and normally something troubling, and asks what would happen if that thing, that one thing, became bigger, became all-pervasive, changed the way we thought and behaved. (If this goes on, all communication everywhere will be through text messages or computers, and direct speech between two people, without a machine, will be outlawed.)

It’s a cautionary question, and it lets us explore cautionary worlds.

People think—wrongly—that speculative fiction is about predicting the future, but it isn’t; or if it is, it tends to do a rotten job of it. Futures are huge things that come with many elements and a billion variables, and the human race has a habit of listening to predictions for what the future will bring and then doing something quite different.

What speculative fiction is really good at is not the future but the present—taking an aspect of it that troubles or is dangerous, and extending and extrapolating that aspect into something that allows the people of that time to see what they are doing from a different angle and from a different place. It’s cautionary.

Fahrenheit 451 is speculative fiction. It’s an “If this goes on . . .” story. Ray Bradbury was writing about his present, which is our past. He was warning us about things; some of those things are obvious, and some of them, half a century later, are harder to see.

Listen.

If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right.

If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are very definitely wrong.

Any story is about a host of things. It is about the author; it is about the world the author sees and deals with and lives in; it is about the words chosen and the way those words are deployed; it is about the story itself and what happens in the story; it is about the people in the story; it is polemic; it is opinion.

An author’s opinions of what a story is about are always valid and are always true: the author was there, after all, when the book was written. She came up with each word and knows why she used that word instead of another. But an author is a creature of her time, and even she cannot see everything that her book is about.

More than half a century has passed since 1953. In America in 1953, the comparatively recent medium of radio was already severely on the wane—its reign had lasted about thirty years, but now the exciting new medium of television had come into ascendancy, and the dramas and comedies of radio were either ending for good or reinventing themselves with a visual track on the “idiot box.”

The news channels in America warned of juvenile delinquents—teenagers in cars who drove dangerously and lived for kicks. The Cold War was going on—a war between Russia and its allies and America and its allies in which nobody dropped bombs or fired bullets because a dropped bomb could tip the world into a Third World War, a nuclear war from which it would never return. The senate was holding hearings to root out hidden Communists and taking steps to stamp out comic books. And whole families were gathering around the television in the evenings.

The joke in the 1950s went that in the old days you could tell who was home by seeing if the lights were on; now you knew who was home by seeing who had their lights off. The televisions were small and the pictures were in black and white and you needed to turn off the light to get a good picture.

“If this goes on . . .” thought Ray Bradbury, “nobody will read books anymore,” and Fahrenheit 451 began. He had written a short story once called “The Pedestrian,” about a man who is incarcerated by the police after he is stopped simply for walking. That story became part of the world he was building, and seventeen-year-old Clarisse McLellan becomes a pedestrian in a world where nobody walks.

“What if . . . firemen burned down houses instead of saving them?” Bradbury thought, and now he had his way in to the story. He had a fireman named Guy Montag, who saved a book from the flames instead of burning it.

“If only . . . books could be saved,” he thought. If you destroy all the physical books, how can you still save them?

Bradbury wrote a story called “The Fireman.” The story demanded to be longer. The world he had created demanded more.

He went to UCLA’s Powell Library. In the basement were typewriters you could rent by the hour, by putting coins into a box on the side of the typewriter. Ray Bradbury put his money into the box and typed his story. When inspiration flagged, when he needed a boost, when he wanted to stretch his legs, he would walk through the library and look at the books.

And then his story was done.

He called the Los Angeles fire department and asked them at what temperature paper burned. Fahrenheit 451, somebody told him. He had his title. It didn’t matter if it was true or not.

The book was published and acclaimed. People loved the book, and they argued about it. It was a novel about censorship, they said, about mind control, about humanity. About government control of our lives. About books.

It was filmed by Francois Truffaut, although the film’s ending seems darker than Bradbury’s, as if the remembering of books is perhaps not the safety net that Bradbury imagines, but is in itself another dead end.

I read Fahrenheit 451 as a boy: I did not understand Guy Montag, did not understand why he did what he did, but I understood the love of books that drove him. Books were the most important things in my life. The huge wall-screen televisions were as futuristic and implausible as the idea that people on the television would talk to me, that I could take part if I had a script. Fahrenheit was never a favorite book: it was too dark, too bleak for that. But when I read a story called “Usher II” in The Silver Locusts (the UK title for The Martian Chronicles), I recognized the world of outlawed authors and imagination with a fierce sort of familiar joy.

When I reread it as a teenager, Fahrenheit 451 had become a book about independence, about thinking for yourself. It was about treasuring books and the dissent inside the covers of books. It was about how we as humans begin by burning books and end by burning people.

Rereading it as an adult, I find myself marveling at the book once more. It is all of those things, yes, but it is also a period piece. The four-wall television being described is the television of the 1950s: variety shows with symphony orchestras and low-brow comedians, and soap operas. The world of fast-driving, crazy teenagers out for kicks, of an endless cold war that sometimes goes hot, of wives who appear to have no jobs or identities save for their husbands’, of bad men being chased by hounds (even mechanical hounds) is a world that feels like it has its roots firmly in the 1950s.

A young reader finding this book today, or the day after tomorrow, is going to have to imagine first a past, and then a future that belongs to that past.

But still, the heart of the book remains untouched, and the questions Bradbury raises remain as valid and important.

Why do we need the things in books? The poems, the essays, the stories? Authors disagree. Authors are human and fallible and foolish. Stories are lies after all, tales of people who never existed and the things that never actually happened to them. Why should we read them? Why should we care?

The teller and the tale are very different. We must not forget that.

Ideas—written ideas—are special. They are the way we transmit our stories and our thoughts from one generation to the next. If we lose them, we lose our shared history. We lose much of what makes us human. And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.

I knew Ray Bradbury for the last thirty years of his life, and I was so lucky. He was funny and gentle and always (even at the end, when he was so old he was blind and wheelchair-bound, even then) enthusiastic. He cared, completely and utterly, about things. He cared about toys and childhood and films. He cared about books. He cared about stories.

This is a book about caring for things. It’s a love letter to books, but I think, just as much, it’s a love letter to people, and a love letter to the world of Waukegan, Illinois, in the 1920s, the world in which Ray Bradbury had grown up and which he immortalized as Green Town in his book of childhood, Dandelion Wine.

As I said when we began: If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right. If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are probably wrong. So any of the things I have told you about Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury’s remarkable book of warning, will be incomplete. It is about these things, yes. But it is about more than that. It is about what you find between its pages.

(As a final note, in these days when we worry and we argue about whether ebooks are real books, I love how broad Ray Bradbury’s definition of a book is at the end, when he points out that we should not judge our books by their covers, and that some books exist between covers that are perfectly people-shaped.)

—Neil Gaiman

April 2013\"},{\"id\":\"6247240T\",\"type\":\"Short Editorial\",\"linkText\":\"From Barnes & Noble\",\"typeId\":\"1008\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"bn.com\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"The Barnes & Noble Review
Fahrenheit 451 is set in a grim alternate-future setting ruled by a tyrannical government in which firemen as we understand them no longer exist: Here, firemen don't douse fires, they ignite them. And they do this specifically in homes that house the most evil of evils: books.

Books are illegal in Bradbury's world, but books are not what his fictional -- yet extremely plausible -- government fears: They fear the knowledge one pulls from books. Through the government's incessant preaching, the inhabitants of this place have come to loathe books and fear those who keep and attempt to read them. They see such people as eccentric, dangerous, and threatening to the tranquility of their state.

But one day a fireman named Montag meets a young girl who demonstrates to him the beauty of books, of knowledge, of conceiving and sharing ideas; she wakes him up, changing his life forever. When Montag's previously held ideology comes crashing down around him, he is forced to reconsider the meaning of his existence and the part he plays. After Montag discovers that \\\"all isn't well with the world,\\\" he sets out to make things right.

A brilliant and frightening novel, Fahrenheit 451 is the classic narrative about censorship; utterly chilling in its implications, Ray Bradbury's masterwork captivates thousands of new readers each year. (Andrew LeCount) \"},{\"id\":\"119725216T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"Brilliant . . . Startling and ingenious . . . Mr. Bradbury's account of this insane world, which bears many alarming resemblances to our own, is fascinating.\\\" -Orville Prescott, The New York Times

\\\"A masterpiece . . . A glorious American classic everyone should read: It's life-changing if you read it as a teen, and still stunning when you reread it as an adult.\\\" -Alice Hoffman, The Boston Globe

\\\"One of this country's most beloved writers . . . A great storyteller, sometimes even a mythmaker, a true American classic.\\\" -Michael Dirda, The Washington Post\"},{\"id\":\"85967080T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Fahrenheit 451 is an essential read for everyone. Bradbury’s disturbing dystopian novel stresses the dangers of willful ignorance and the censorship of knowledge. Ray Bradbury’s writing is stunning, and the grim future he had predicted is a haunting image that will never fade from your mind.

\"},{\"id\":\"49290614T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

7. Does Mildred actually forget that she took the pills, or is she pretending not to remember? Were the machines that treated her designed to erase the memory of a suicide attempt? What do you think led Mildred to attempt suicide?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

16. As we stand at the check-out counter of most any store, we see the covers of tabloids. Let’s say we’re drawn to the photos and text. Some people call these magazines “guilty pleasure.” Why is popular culture compelling? Is popular culture pernicious and worth fighting, or is it innocent? What is the best-known family in America? What do you make of this? Does such a thing matter?

17. Sometimes we say that an event or feeling is not expressible in words. We say, “You have to go through it yourself to understand.” But this isn’t so, at least not for a writer of Bradbury’s skill. Expressing the inexpressible is the storyteller’s job. Read aloud a passage that seems to you an example of Bradbury expressing the inexpressible.

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"68638720T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

7. Does Mildred actually forget that she took the pills, or is she pretending not to remember? Were the machines that treated her designed to erase the memory of a suicide attempt? What do you think led Mildred to attempt suicide?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

16. As we stand at the check-out counter of most any store, we see the covers of tabloids. Let’s say we’re drawn to the photos and text. Some people call these magazines “guilty pleasure.” Why is popular culture compelling? Is popular culture pernicious and worth fighting, or is it innocent? What is the best-known family in America? What do you make of this? Does such a thing matter?

17. Sometimes we say that an event or feeling is not expressible in words. We say, “You have to go through it yourself to understand.” But this isn’t so, at least not for a writer of Bradbury’s skill. Expressing the inexpressible is the storyteller’s job. Read aloud a passage that seems to you an example of Bradbury expressing the inexpressible.

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"109267887T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

7. Does Mildred actually forget that she took the pills, or is she pretending not to remember? Were the machines that treated her designed to erase the memory of a suicide attempt? What do you think led Mildred to attempt suicide?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

16. As we stand at the check-out counter of most any store, we see the covers of tabloids. Let’s say we’re drawn to the photos and text. Some people call these magazines “guilty pleasure.” Why is popular culture compelling? Is popular culture pernicious and worth fighting, or is it innocent? What is the best-known family in America? What do you make of this? Does such a thing matter?

17. Sometimes we say that an event or feeling is not expressible in words. We say, “You have to go through it yourself to understand.” But this isn’t so, at least not for a writer of Bradbury’s skill. Expressing the inexpressible is the storyteller’s job. Read aloud a passage that seems to you an example of Bradbury expressing the inexpressible.

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"81391860T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

7. Does Mildred actually forget that she took the pills, or is she pretending not to remember? Were the machines that treated her designed to erase the memory of a suicide attempt? What do you think led Mildred to attempt suicide?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

16. As we stand at the check-out counter of most any store, we see the covers of tabloids. Let’s say we’re drawn to the photos and text. Some people call these magazines “guilty pleasure.” Why is popular culture compelling? Is popular culture pernicious and worth fighting, or is it innocent? What is the best-known family in America? What do you make of this? Does such a thing matter?

17. Sometimes we say that an event or feeling is not expressible in words. We say, “You have to go through it yourself to understand.” But this isn’t so, at least not for a writer of Bradbury’s skill. Expressing the inexpressible is the storyteller’s job. Read aloud a passage that seems to you an example of Bradbury expressing the inexpressible.

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"66815346T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

7. Does Mildred actually forget that she took the pills, or is she pretending not to remember? Were the machines that treated her designed to erase the memory of a suicide attempt? What do you think led Mildred to attempt suicide?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

16. As we stand at the check-out counter of most any store, we see the covers of tabloids. Let’s say we’re drawn to the photos and text. Some people call these magazines “guilty pleasure.” Why is popular culture compelling? Is popular culture pernicious and worth fighting, or is it innocent? What is the best-known family in America? What do you make of this? Does such a thing matter?

17. Sometimes we say that an event or feeling is not expressible in words. We say, “You have to go through it yourself to understand.” But this isn’t so, at least not for a writer of Bradbury’s skill. Expressing the inexpressible is the storyteller’s job. Read aloud a passage that seems to you an example of Bradbury expressing the inexpressible.

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"54912056T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"

Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. Is Bradbury accurate in his implication that 451 degrees Fahrenheit is the minimum temperature at which paper burns? Is it an implication, or does he state it as fact in the story? Does this matter to you?

2. Do you find Bradbury’s epigraph appropriate?

“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”—Juan Ramón Jiménez

Research Juan Ramón Jiménez. In your opinion, in what context is his quote being used?

3. Some stories can be set in any place at any time. How important is setting to Fahrenheit 451?

4. Montag is Bradbury’s protagonist, of course. But which character do you find more intriguing, which more compelling, Montag or Beatty? Is there another character with similar power?

5. Is Beatty the story’s antagonist? Are there other antagonistic forces?

6. Is Clarisse a credible character? In your opinion, does her character leave the story too abruptly? Should she have played a larger role in the novel?

8. Is it intelligence that saves us from surrender to the majority? Or another quality, or mix of qualities?

9. What examples of courage have you seen in the actual world that are as powerful as the courage Montag and the other resisters and insurgents display in the storyworld?

10. What other people, events, political/cultural conditions do you see in our world that parallel those of the storyworld?

11. What does irony mean? Identify groups or individuals in our world who burn books. Is their motivation to burn all books as the state mandates in Fahrenheit 451, or is it to burn specific books? Do you see irony in such people finding in a book their motivation to burn books? Do they, in fact, find their motivation in a book? What book might that be?

12. What is your opinion of the Mechanical Hound? Is it a symbol? Symbols do not “mean”; symbols “suggest.” What might the Hound suggest? Do you find ironic qualities in the Hound? Let’s say the Hound is a human being’s “worst friend.” What is the ironic quality there?

13. Here’s the passage where Montag kills Beatty.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

Later, Montag states the following inference.
Beatty wanted to die.
In the middle of the crying Montag knew it for the truth. Beatty had wanted to die. He had just stood there, not really trying to save himself ….

Bradbury tells the reader that Montag “knew it for the truth,” but is that possible? To infer, of course, means “to conclude from evidence.” What evidence does Montag have for the inference—or the “conclusion”—that he expresses here? What support for this idea do you find in the story?

14. How many of Bradbury’s literary allusions can you identify? Does it matter? Do the allusions engage you? Make a list of them and then look them up.

15. What effects might four-wall television have on residents of the house? Do you see irony in Mildred’s use of the word “family” to refer to the TV characters?

18. What are your emotional and intellectual responses to Fahrenheit 451? How do you judge its value? The novel was written in the early 1950s but describes a futuristic society in which, for example, newspapers are a thing of the past, movies and photographs have displaced literary culture, etc. Find additional examples in the novel that you could argue predict what life is like in today’s society. Do you feel the novel’s vision has come true?

19. Explain how novels with a political theme can succeed both aesthetically and psychologically? Give examples from the Fahrenheit 451 to support your answer.\"},{\"id\":\"6247330T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Ray Bradbury (1920–2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty—five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.\"},{\"id\":\"68641390T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Ray Bradbury (1920–2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.\"},{\"id\":\"81391862T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

Ray Bradbury (1920–2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.\"},{\"id\":\"66815348T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Ray Bradbury (1920–2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.\"},{\"id\":\"31418098T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"
Ray Bradbury is the author of more than three dozen books, including The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He has written for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. The recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors, Bradbury lives in Los Angeles.\"},{\"id\":\"110887591T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"7\",\"text\":\"Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston's Moby Dick and the Emmy Award-winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.\"},{\"id\":\"119725217T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"8\",\"text\":\"

Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, and Something Wicked This Way Comes, as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston's Moby Dick and the Emmy Award-winning teleplay The Halloween Tree, and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater. He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors.

\"}]",{"_41":3526,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3527},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735924326641","Fahrenheit-451/Ray-Bradbury",{"_41":3529,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3530},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735919673585","1100383286",{"_41":3532,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735922065649",{"_41":3534,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3510},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735925407985",{"_41":3536,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3487},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39735915970801",{"_41":3538,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":3539},"gid://shopify/Metafield/59847309132017","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"4.2\"}",{"_41":3541,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":3542},"gid://shopify/Metafield/59847309099249","82",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3544,"_72":3545,"_946":947,"_829":3546,"_937":3547,"_935":3548,"_2358":3549,"_948":3554,"_980":59,"_958":3556,"_2371":3559,"_1041":3568,"_1003":3570,"_1072":3571},"gid://shopify/Product/8842751344881","Animal Farm: 75th Anniversary Edition","9780451526342","75th Anniversary Edition—Includes a New Introduction by Téa ObrehtGeorge Orwell's timeless and timely allegorical novel—a scathing satire of a downtrodden society’s blind march towards totalitarianism.“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible. When Animal Farm was first published, Stalinist Russia was seen as its target. Today it is devastatingly clear that wherever and whenever freedom is attacked, under whatever banner, the cutting clarity and savage comedy of George Orwell’s masterpiece have a meaning and message still ferociously fresh.","75th Anniversary Edition—Includes a New Introduction by Téa Obreht

George Orwell's timeless and timely allegorical novel—a scathing satire of a downtrodden society’s blind march towards totalitarianism.

“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible.

When Animal Farm was first published, Stalinist Russia was seen as its target. Today it is devastatingly clear that wherever and whenever freedom is attacked, under whatever banner, the cutting clarity and savage comedy of George Orwell’s masterpiece have a meaning and message still ferociously fresh.",{"_41":3550,"_54":3551,"_56":3552,"_50":3553,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47521369719025","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780451526342_p0.jpg?v=1765034820",755,1356,{"_950":3555},{"_952":1027,"_954":955},{"_950":3557,"_956":3558},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3560},[3561],{"_41":3562,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3563,"_983":3564,"_928":3565,"_986":3566,"_990":3546,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46240355975409",{"_41":3550,"_54":3551,"_2364":-5,"_56":3552,"_50":3553},{"_952":1027,"_954":955},{"_72":3545,"_829":3546},[3567],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3569},"[\"High School & College (p9064)\",\"Banned Books (p2167)\",\"Classroom Literature & Nonfiction (p5500)\",\"B|Bestseller|#007C6C (p7858)\",\"BADGE - Best Seller (p7883)\"]",{"_989":3546},[3572,3575,-5,3578,3580,-5,3582,3585,3588,3591,3594,3596,3600,3602,-5,3604,3606],{"_41":3573,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3574},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464774303985","[{\"contributorId\":171568,\"fullName\":\"George Orwell\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1},{\"contributorId\":166890,\"fullName\":\"Russell Baker\",\"jobName\":\"Afterword\",\"sequenceNumber\":2},{\"contributorId\":13103046,\"fullName\":\"Téa Obreht\",\"jobName\":\"Introduction\",\"sequenceNumber\":3}]",{"_41":3576,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3577},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464774467825","Signet Classics Series",{"_41":3579,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464774762737",{"_41":3581,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464773976305",{"_41":3583,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":3584},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464774992113","393",{"_41":3586,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3587},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464776204529","[{\"id\":\"72027279T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"Edmund Wilson\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Absolutely first-rate...comparable to Voltaire and Swift. -- The New Yorker\"},{\"id\":\"116235985T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"\\\"Animal Farm remains our great satire on the darker face of modern history.\\\"
-Malcolm Bradbury

\\\"As lucid as glass and quite as sharp...[Animal Farm] has the double meaning, the sharp edge, and the lucidity of Swift.\\\"
-Atlantic Monthly

\\\"A wise, compassionate, and illuminating fable for our times.\\\"
-New York Times

\\\"Orwell has worked out his theme with a simplicity, a wit, and a dryness that are close to La Fontaine and Gay, and has written in a prose so plain and spare, so admirably proportioned to his purpose, that Animal Farm even seems very creditable if we compare it with Voltaire and Swift.\\\"
-Edmund Wilson, The New Yorker

\\\"Orwell's satire here is amply broad, cleverly conceived, and delightfully written.\\\"
-San Francisco Chronicle

\\\"The book for everyone and Everyman, its brightness undimmed after fifty years.\\\"
-Ruth Rendell\"},{\"id\":\"111246854T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Even if you read this in school, it's time to read it again. Under the cuddly guise of an animal society, the encroaching totalitarian state is not lost on the pigs and the hamsters of the world. It's an unexpectedly cautionary tale that's widely banned for a reason.

\"},{\"id\":\"90737483T\",\"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\":\"91152519T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Even if you read this in school, it’s time to read it again. Under the unassuming guise of an animal society, the encroaching totalitarian state is not lost on the pigs and the hamsters of the world. It’s an unexpectedly cautionary tale that’s widely banned, and you know what they say about banned books.

\"},{\"id\":\"72027294T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"George Orwell (pseudonym for Eric Blair [1903-50]) was born in Bengal and educated at Eton; after service with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, he returned to Europe to earn his living penning novels and essays. He was essentially a political writer who focused his attention on his own times, a man of intense feelings and intense hates. An opponent of totalitarianism, he served in the Loyalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. Besides his classic Animal Farm, his works include a novel based on his experiences as a colonial policeman, Burmese Days, two firsthand studies of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier, an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia; and the extraordinary novel of political prophecy whose title became part of our language, 1984.\"},{\"id\":\"53878644T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

George Orwell (pseudonym for Eric Blair [1903-50]) was born in Bengal and educated at Eton; after service with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, he returned to Europe to earn his living penning novels and essays. He was essentially a political writer who focused his attention on his own times, a man of intense feelings and intense hates. An opponent of totalitarianism, he served in the Loyalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. Besides his classic Animal Farm, his works include a novel based on his experiences as a colonial policeman, Burmese Days, two firsthand studies of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier, an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia; and the extraordinary novel of political prophecy whose title became part of our language, 1984.\"},{\"id\":\"104772042T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"George Orwell (pseudonym for Eric Blair [1903-50]) was born in Bengal and educated at Eton; after service with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, he returned to Europe to earn his living penning novels and essays. He was essentially a political writer who focused his attention on his own times, a man of intense feelings and intense hates. An opponent of totalitarianism, he served in the Loyalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. Besides his classic Animal Farm, his works include a novel based on his experiences as a colonial policeman, Burmese Days, two firsthand studies of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier, an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia; and the extraordinary novel of political prophecy whose title became part of our language, 1984.\"},{\"id\":\"116235986T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"72027293T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"George Orwell (pseudonym for Eric Blair [1903-50]) was born in Bengal and educated at Eton; after service with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, he returned to Europe to earn his living penning novels and essays. He was essentially a political writer who focused his attention on his own times, a man of intense feelings and intense hates. An opponent of totalitarianism, he served in the Loyalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. Besides his classic Animal Farm, his works include a novel based on his experiences as a colonial policeman, Burmese Days, two firsthand studies of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier, an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia; and the extraordinary novel of political prophecy whose title became part of our language, 1984.\"}]",{"_41":3589,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3590},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464775745777","Animal-Farm/George-Orwell",{"_41":3592,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3593},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464773746929","1137597358",{"_41":3595,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464774697201",{"_41":3597,"_1075":1076,"_1077":3598,"_989":3599},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464775319793","displayFormat","Tall Rack Paperback",{"_41":3601,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3569},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464776401137",{"_41":3603,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3546},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39464772370673",{"_41":3605,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":3539},"gid://shopify/Metafield/59847772438769",{"_41":3607,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":3608},"gid://shopify/Metafield/59847772406001","986",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3610,"_72":3611,"_946":947,"_829":3612,"_937":3613,"_935":3614,"_2358":3615,"_948":3619,"_980":59,"_958":3622,"_2371":3625,"_1041":3634,"_1003":3636,"_1072":3637},"gid://shopify/Product/8855350509809","Things Fall Apart","9780385474542","“A true classic of world literature . . . A masterpiece that has inspired generations of writers in Nigeria, across Africa, and around the world.” —Barack Obama “African literature is incomplete and unthinkable without the works of Chinua Achebe.” —Toni Morrison\"A magical writer—one of the greates of the twentieth century.\" —Margaret AtwoodNamed one of America's most-loved novels by PBS’s The Great American ReadThings Fall Apart is the first of three novels in Chinua Achebe's critically acclaimed African Trilogy. It is a classic narrative about Africa's cataclysmic encounter with Europe as it establishes a colonial presence on the continent. Told through the fictional experiences of Okonkwo, a wealthy and fearless Igbo warrior of Umuofia in the late 1800s, Things Fall Apart explores one man's futile resistance to the devaluing of his Igbo traditions by British political andreligious forces and his despair as his community capitulates to the powerful new order.With more than twenty million copies sold and translated into fifty-seven languages, Things Fall Apart provides one of the most illuminating and permanent monuments to African experience. Achebe does not only capture life in a pre-colonial African village, he conveys the tragedy of the loss of that world while broadening our understanding of our contemporary realities.","“A true classic of world literature . . . A masterpiece that has inspired generations of writers in Nigeria, across Africa, and around the world.” —Barack Obama

“African literature is incomplete and unthinkable without the works of Chinua Achebe.” —Toni Morrison

\"A magical writer—one of the greates of the twentieth century.\" —Margaret Atwood

Named one of America's most-loved novels by PBS’s The Great American Read

Things Fall Apart is the first of three novels in Chinua Achebe's critically acclaimed African Trilogy. It is a classic narrative about Africa's cataclysmic encounter with Europe as it establishes a colonial presence on the continent. Told through the fictional experiences of Okonkwo, a wealthy and fearless Igbo warrior of Umuofia in the late 1800s, Things Fall Apart explores one man's futile resistance to the devaluing of his Igbo traditions by British political andreligious forces and his despair as his community capitulates to the powerful new order.

With more than twenty million copies sold and translated into fifty-seven languages, Things Fall Apart provides one of the most illuminating and permanent monuments to African experience. Achebe does not only capture life in a pre-colonial African village, he conveys the tragedy of the loss of that world while broadening our understanding of our contemporary realities.",{"_41":3616,"_54":3617,"_56":3618,"_50":3553,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47495916683505","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780385474542_p0.jpg?v=1764980481",878,{"_950":3620},{"_952":3621,"_954":955},"16.0",{"_950":3623,"_956":3624},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3626},[3627],{"_41":3628,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3629,"_983":3630,"_928":3631,"_986":3632,"_990":3612,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46253936083185",{"_41":3616,"_54":3617,"_2364":-5,"_56":3618,"_50":3553},{"_952":3621,"_954":955},{"_72":3611,"_829":3612},[3633],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3635},"[\"High School & College (p9064)\",\"Antiracism Books (p9051)\",\"Classroom Literature & Nonfiction (p5500)\",\"Membership Stamps (p265)\"]",{"_989":3612},[3638,3641,3644,3647,3649,-5,3651,3653,3656,3659,3662,-5,3664,3666,-5,3668,3671],{"_41":3639,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3640},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826335473","[{\"contributorId\":163388,\"fullName\":\"Chinua Achebe\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3642,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3643},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826532081","The African Trilogy",{"_41":3645,"_1075":1076,"_1077":3646,"_989":893},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826630385","seriesNumber",{"_41":3648,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826892529",{"_41":3650,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080825909489",{"_41":3652,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826990833",{"_41":3654,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3655},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080828891377","[{\"id\":\"120415600T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Chapter One

Okonkwo was well known throughout the nine villages and even beyond. His fame rested on solid personal achievements. As a young man of eighteen he had brought honor to his village by throwing Amalinze the Cat. Amalinze was the great wrestler who for seven years was unbeaten, from Umuofia to Mbaino. He was called the Cat because his back would never touch the earth. It was this man that Okonkwo threw in a fight which the old men agreed was one of the fiercest since the founder of their town engaged a spirit of the wild for seven days and seven nights.

The drums beat and the flutes sang and the spectators held their breath. Amalinze was a wily craftsman, but Okonkwo was as slippery as a fish in water. Every nerve and every muscle stood out on their arms, on their backs and their thighs, and one almost heard them stretching to breaking point. In the end, Okonkwo threw the Cat.

That was many years ago, twenty years or more, and during this time Okonkwo's fame had grown like a bush-fire in the harmattan. He was tall and huge, and his bushy eyebrows and wide nose gave him a very severe look. He breathed heavily, and it was said that, when he slept, his wives and children in their houses could hear him breathe. When he walked, his heels hardly touched the ground and he seemed to walk on springs, as if he was going to pounce on somebody. And he did pounce on people quite often. He had a slight stammer and whenever he was angry and could not get his words out quickly enough, he would use his fists. He had no patience with unsuccessful men. He had had no patience with his father.

Unoka, for that was his father's name, had died ten years ago. In his day he was lazy and improvident and was quite incapable of thinking about tomorrow. If any money came his way, and it seldom did, he immediately bought gourds of palm-wine, called round his neighbors and made merry. He always said that whenever he saw a dead man's mouth he saw the folly of not eating what one had in one's lifetime. Unoka was, of course, a debtor, and he owed every neighbor some money, from a few cowries to quite substantial amounts.

He was tall but very thin and had a slight stoop. He wore a haggard and mournful look except when he was drinking or playing on his flute. He was very good on his flute, and his happiest moments were the two or three moons after the harvest when the village musicians brought down their instruments, hung above the fireplace. Unoka would play with them, his face beaming with blessedness and peace. Sometimes another village would ask Unoka's band and their dancing egwugwu to come and stay with them and teach them their tunes. They would go to such hosts for as long as three or four markets, making music and feasting. Unoka loved the good fare and the good fellowship, and he loved this season of the year, when the rains had stopped and the sun rose every morning with dazzling beauty. And it was not too hot either, because the cold and dry harmattan wind was blowing down from the north. Some years the harmattan was very severe and a dense haze hung on the atmosphere. Old men and children would then sit round log fires, warming their bodies. Unoka loved it all, and he loved the first kites that returned with the dry season, and the children who sang songs of welcome to them. He would remember his own childhood, how he had often wandered around looking for a kite sailing leisurely against the blue sky. As soon as he found one he would sing with his whole being, welcoming it back from its long, long journey, and asking it if it had brought home any lengths of cloth.

That was years ago, when he was young. Unoka, the grown-up, was a failure. He was poor and his wife and children had barely enough to eat. People laughed at him because he was a loafer, and they swore never to lend him any more money because he never paid back. But Unoka was such a man that he always succeeded in borrowing more, and piling up his debts.

One day a neighbor called Okoye came in to see him. He was reclining on a mud bed in his hut playing on the flute. He immediately rose and shook hands with Okoye, who then unrolled the goatskin which he carried under his arm, and sat down. Unoka went into an inner room and soon returned with a small wooden disc containing a kola nut, some alligator pepper and a lump of white chalk.

\\\"I have kola,\\\" he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

\\\"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,\\\" replied Okoye, passing back the disc.

\\\"No, it is for you, I think,\\\" and they argued like this for a few moments before Unoka accepted the honor of breaking the kola. Okoye, meanwhile, took the lump of chalk, drew some lines on the floor, and then painted his big toe.

As he broke the kola, Unoka prayed to their ancestors for life and health, and for protection against their enemies. When they had eaten they talked about many things: about the heavy rains which were drowning the yams, about the next ancestral feast and about the impending war with the village of Mbaino. Unoka was never happy when it came to wars. He was in fact a coward and could not bear the sight of blood. And so he changed the subject and talked about music, and his face beamed. He could hear in his mind's ear the blood-stirring and intricate rhythms of the ekwe and the udu and the ogene, and he could hear his own flute weaving in and out of them, decorating them with a colorful and plaintive tune. The total effect was gay and brisk, but if one picked out the flute as it went up and down and then broke up into short snatches, one saw that there was sorrow and grief there.

Okoye was also a musician. He played on the ogene. But he was not a failure like Unoka. He had a large barn full of yams and he had three wives. And now he was going to take the Idemili title, the third highest in the land. It was a very expensive ceremony and he was gathering all his resources together. That was in fact the reason why he had come to see Unoka. He cleared his throat and began:

\\\"Thank you for the kola. You may have heard of the title I intend to take shortly.\\\"

Having spoken plainly so far, Okoye said the next half a dozen sentences in proverbs. Among the Ibo the art of conversation is regarded very highly, and proverbs are the palm-oil with which words are eaten. Okoye was a great talker and he spoke for a long time, skirting round the subject and then hitting it finally. In short, he was asking Unoka to return the two hundred cowries he had borrowed from him more than two years before. As soon as Unoka understood what his friend was driving at, he burst out laughing. He laughed loud and long and his voice rang out clear as the ogene, and tears stood in his eyes. His visitor was amazed, and sat speechless. At the end, Unoka was able to give an answer between fresh outbursts of mirth.

\\\"Look at that wall,\\\" he said, pointing at the far wall of his hut, which was rubbed with red earth so that it shone. \\\"Look at those lines of chalk;\\\" and Okoye saw groups of short perpendicular lines drawn in chalk. There were five groups, and the smallest group had ten lines. Unoka had a sense of the dramatic and so he allowed a pause, in which he took a pinch of snuff and sneezed noisily, and then he continued: \\\"Each group there represents a debt to someone, and each stroke is one hundred cowries. You see, I owe that man a thousand cowries. But he has not come to wake me up in the morning for it. I shall pay, you, but not today. Our elders say that the sun will shine on those who stand before it shines on those who kneel under them. I shall pay my big debts first.\\\" And he took another pinch of snuff, as if that was paying the big debts first. Okoye rolled his goatskin and departed.

When Unoka died he had taken no title at all and he was heavily in debt. Any wonder then that his son Okonkwo was ashamed of him? Fortunately, among these people a man was judged according to his worth and not according to the worth of his father. Okonkwo was clearly cut out for great things. He was still young but he had won fame as the greatest wrestler in the nine villages. He was a wealthy farmer and had two barns full of yams, and had just married his third wife. To crown it all he had taken two titles and had shown incredible prowess in two inter-tribal wars. And so although Okonkwo was still young, he was already one of the greatest men of his time. Age was respected among his people, but achievement was revered. As the elders said, if a child washed his hands he could eat with kings. Okonkwo had clearly washed his hands and so he ate with kings and elders. And that was how he came to look after the doomed lad who was sacrificed to the village of Umuofia by their neighbors to avoid war and bloodshed. The ill-fated lad was called Ikemefuna.

Chapter Two

Okonkwo had just blown out the palm-oil lamp and stretched himself on his bamboo bed when he heard the ogene of the town crier piercing the still night air. Gome, gome, gome, gome, boomed the hollow metal. Then the crier gave his message, and at the end of it beat his instrument again. And this was the message. Every man of Umuofia was asked to gather at the market place tomorrow morning. Okonkwo wondered what was amiss, for he knew certainly that something was amiss. He had discerned a clear overtone of tragedy in the crier's voice, and even now he could still hear it as it grew dimmer and dimmer in the distance.

The night was very quiet. It was always quiet except on moonlight nights. Darkness held a vague terror for these people, even the bravest among them. Children were warned not to whistle at night for fear of evil spirits. Dangerous animals became even more sinister and uncanny in the dark. A snake was never called by its name at night, because it would hear. It was called a string. And so on this particular night as the crier's voice was gradually swallowed up in the distance, silence returned to the world, a vibrant silence made more intense by the universal trill of a million million forest insects.

On a moonlight night it would be different. The happy voices of children playing in open fields would then be heard. And perhaps those not so young would be playing in pairs in less open places, and old men and women would remember their youth. As the Ibo say: \\\"When the moon is shining the cripple becomes hungry for a walk.\\\"

But this particular night was dark and silent. And in all the nine villages of Umuofia a town crier with his ogene asked every man to be present tomorrow morning. Okonkwo on his bamboo bed tried to figure out the nature of the emergency--war with a neighboring clan? That seemed the most likely reason, and he was not afraid of war. He was a man of action, a man of war. Unlike his father he could stand the look of blood. In Umuofia's latest war he was the first to bring home a human head. That was his fifth head; and he was not an old man yet. On great occasions such as the funeral of a village celebrity he drank his palm-wine from his first human head.

In the morning the market place was full. There must have been about ten thousand men there, all talking in low voices. At last Ogbuefi Ezeugo stood up in the midst of them and bellowed four times, \\\"Umuofia kwenu\\\", and on each occasion he faced a different direction and seemed to push the air with a clenched fist. And ten thousand men answered \\\"Yaal\\\" each time. Then there was perfect silence. Ogbuefi Ezeugo was a powerful orator and was always chosen to speak on such occasions. He moved his hand over his white head and stroked his white beard. He then adjusted his cloth, which was passed under his right arm-pit and tied above his left shoulder.

\\\"Umuofia kwenu\\\", he bellowed a fifth time, and the crowd yelled in answer. And then suddenly like one possessed he shot out his left hand and pointed in the direction of Mbaino, and said through gleaming white teeth firmly clenched: \\\"Those sons of wild animals have dared to murder a daughter of Umuofia.\\\" He threw his head down and gnashed his teeth, and allowed a murmur of suppressed anger to sweep the crowd. When he began again, the anger on his face was gone and in its place a sort of smile hovered, more terrible and more sinister than the anger. And in a clear unemotional voice he told Umuofia how their daughter had gone to market at Mbaino and had been killed. That woman, said Ezeugo, was the wife of Ogbuefi Udo, and he pointed to a man who sat near him with a bowed head. The crowd then shouted with anger and thirst for blood.

Many others spoke, and at the end it was decided to follow the normal course of action. An ultimatum was immediately dispatched to Mbaino asking them to choose between war on the one hand, and on the other the offer of a young man and a virgin as compensation.

Umuofia was feared by all its neighbors. It was powerful in war and in magic, and its priests and medicine men were feared in all the surrounding country. Its most potent war-medicine was as old as the clan itself. Nobody knew how old. But on one point there was general agreement--the active principle in that medicine had been an old woman with one leg. In fact, the medicine itself was called agadi-nwayi, or old woman. It had its shrine in the centre of Umuofia, in a cleared spot. And if anybody was so foolhardy as to pass by the shrine after dusk he was sure to see the old woman hopping about.

\"},{\"id\":\"68736787T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Chapter One

\\\"I have kola,\\\" he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

\\\"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,\\\" replied Okoye, passing back the disc.

\\\"Thank you for the kola. You may have heard of the title I intend to take shortly.\\\"

Chapter Two

But this particular night was dark and silent. And in all the nine villages of Umuofia a town crier with his ogene asked every man to be present tomorrow morning. Okonkwo on his bamboo bed tried to figure out the nature of the emergency—war with a neighboring clan? That seemed the most likely reason, and he was not afraid of war. He was a man of action, a man of war. Unlike his father he could stand the look of blood. In Umuofia's latest war he was the first to bring home a human head. That was his fifth head; and he was not an old man yet. On great occasions such as the funeral of a village celebrity he drank his palm-wine from his first human head.

Umuofia was feared by all its neighbors. It was powerful in war and in magic, and its priests and medicine men were feared in all the surrounding country. Its most potent war-medicine was as old as the clan itself. Nobody knew how old. But on one point there was general agreement—the active principle in that medicine had been an old woman with one leg. In fact, the medicine itself was called agadi-nwayi, or old woman. It had its shrine in the centre of Umuofia, in a cleared spot. And if anybody was so foolhardy as to pass by the shrine after dusk he was sure to see the old woman hopping about.

\"},{\"id\":\"5768640T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Chapter One

\\\"I have kola,\\\" he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

\\\"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,\\\" replied Okoye, passing back the disc.

\\\"Thank you for the kola. You may have heard of the title I intend to take shortly.\\\"

Chapter Two

But this particular night was dark and silent. And in all the nine villages of Umuofia a town crier with his ogene asked every man to be present tomorrow morning. Okonkwo on his bamboo bed tried to figure out the nature of the emergency—war with a neighboring clan? That seemed the most likely reason, and he was not afraid of war. He was a man of action, a man of war. Unlike his father he could stand the look of blood. In Umuofia's latest war he was the first to bring home a human head. That was his fifth head; and he was not an old man yet. On great occasions such as the funeral of a village celebrity he drank his palm-wine from his first human head.

Umuofia was feared by all its neighbors. It was powerful in war and in magic, and its priests and medicine men were feared in all the surrounding country. Its most potent war-medicine was as old as the clan itself. Nobody knew how old. But on one point there was general agreement—the active principle in that medicine had been an old woman with one leg. In fact, the medicine itself was called agadi-nwayi, or old woman. It had its shrine in the centre of Umuofia, in a cleared spot. And if anybody was so foolhardy as to pass by the shrine after dusk he was sure to see the old woman hopping about.

\"},{\"id\":\"90907209T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Chapter One

\\\"I have kola,\\\" he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

\\\"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,\\\" replied Okoye, passing back the disc.

As he broke the kola, Unoka prayed to their ancestors for life and health, and for'protect'on against their enemies. When they had eaten they talked about many things: about the heavy rains which were drowning the yams, about the next ancestral feast and about the impending war with the village of Mbaino. Unoka was never happy when it came to wars. He was in fact a coward and could not bear the sight of blood. And so he changed the subject and talked about music, and his face beamed. He could hear in his mind's ear the blood-stirring and intricate rhythms of the ekwe and the udu and the ogene, and he could hear his own flute weaving in and out of them, decorating them with a colorful and plaintive tune. The total effect was gay and brisk, but if one picked out the flute as it went up and down and then broke up into short snatches, one saw that there was sorrow and grief there.

\\\"Thank you for the kola. You may have heard of the title I intend to take shortly.\\\"

Chapter Two

But this particular night was dark and silent. And in all the nine villages of Umuofia a town crier with his ogene asked every man to be present tomorrow morning. Okonkwo on his bamboo bed tried to figure out the nature of the emergency—war with a neighboring clan? That seemed the most likely reason, and he was not afraid of war. He was a man of action, a man of war. Unlike his father he could stand the look of blood. In Umuofia's latest war he was the first to bring home a human head. That was his fifth head; and he was not an old man yet. On great occasions such as the funeral of a village celebrity he drank his palm-wine from his first human head.

Umuofia was feared by all its neighbors. It was powerful in war and in magic, and its priests and medicine men were feared in all the surrounding country. Its most potent war-medicine was as old as the clan itself. Nobody knew how old. But on one point there was general agreement—the active principle in that medicine had been an old woman with one leg. In fact, the medicine itself was called agadi-nwayi, or old woman. It had its shrine in the centre of Umuofia, in a cleared spot. And if anybody was so foolhardy as to pass by the shrine after dusk he was sure to see the old woman hopping about.

\"},{\"id\":\"51341049T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"

Chapter One

\\\"I have kola,\\\" he announced when he sat down, and passed the disc over to his guest.

\\\"Thank you. He who brings kola brings life. But I think you ought to break it,\\\" replied Okoye, passing back the disc.

\\\"Thank you for the kola. You may have heard of the title I intend to take shortly.\\\"

Chapter Two

But this particular night was dark and silent. And in all the nine villages of Umuofia a town crier with his ogene asked every man to be present tomorrow morning. Okonkwo on his bamboo bed tried to figure out the nature of the emergency—war with a neighboring clan? That seemed the most likely reason, and he was not afraid of war. He was a man of action, a man of war. Unlike his father he could stand the look of blood. In Umuofia's latest war he was the first to bring home a human head. That was his fifth head; and he was not an old man yet. On great occasions such as the funeral of a village celebrity he drank his palm-wine from his first human head.

Umuofia was feared by all its neighbors. It was powerful in war and in magic, and its priests and medicine men were feared in all the surrounding country. Its most potent war-medicine was as old as the clan itself. Nobody knew how old. But on one point there was general agreement—the active principle in that medicine had been an old woman with one leg. In fact, the medicine itself was called agadi-nwayi, or old woman. It had its shrine in the centre of Umuofia, in a cleared spot. And if anybody was so foolhardy as to pass by the shrine after dusk he was sure to see the old woman hopping about.

\"},{\"id\":\"120415602T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Praise for Chinua Achebe

“A true classic of world literature...A masterpiece that has inspired generations of writers in Nigeria, across Africa, and around the world.” —Barack Obama

“A magical writer—one of the greatest of the twentieth century.” —Margaret Atwood

“African literature is incomplete and unthinkable without the works of Chinua Achebe.” —Toni Morrison

“Chinua Achebe has shown that a mind that observes clearly but feels deeply enough to afford laughter may be more wise than all the politicians and journalists.” —Time

“Chinua Achebe is gloriously gifted with the magic of an ebullient, generous, great talent.” —Nadine Gordimer

“Achebe’s influence should go on and on . . . teaching and reminding that all humankind is one.” —The Nation

“The father of African literature in the English language and undoubtedly one of the most important writers of the second half of the twentieth century.” —Caryl Phillips, The Observer

“We are indebted to Achebe for reminding us that art has social and moral dimension—a truth often obscured.” —Chicago Tribune

“He is one of the few writers of our time who has touched us with a code of values that will never be ironic.” —Michael Ondaatje

“For so many readers around the world, it is Chinua Achebe who opened up the magic casements of African fiction.” —Kwame Anthony Appiah

“[Achebe] is one of world literature’s great humane voices.” —Times Literary Supplement

“Achebe is one of the most distinguished artists to emerge from the West African cultural renaissance of the post-war world.” —The Sunday Times (London)

“[Achebe is] a powerful voice for cultural decolonization.” —The Village Voice

“The power and majesty of Chinua Achebe’s work has, literally, opened the world to generations of readers. He is an ambassador of art, and a profound recorder of the human condition.” —Michael Dorris\"},{\"id\":\"120415601T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"2007 Man Booker International Prize, Winner
\"},{\"id\":\"5052113T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"Sacred Fire\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Things Fall Apart is one of the most widely read African novels ever published. It is written by one of Nigeria’s leading novelists, Chinua Achebe. Set in the Ibo village of Umuofia, Things Fall Apart recounts a stunning moment in African history—its colonization by Britain. The novel, first published in 1958, has by today sold over 8 million copies, been translated into at least forty-five languages, and earned Achebe the somewhat misleading and patronizing title of "the man who invented African literature." It carefully re-creates tribal life before the arrival of Europeans in Africa, and then details the jarring changes brought on by the advent of colonialism and Christianity.

The book is a parable that examines the colonial experience from an African perspective, through Okonkwo, who was "a strong individual and an Igbo hero struggling to maintain the cultural integrity of his people against the overwhelming power of colonial rule." Okonkwo is banished from the community for accidentally killing a clansman and is forced to live seven years in exile. He returns to his home village, only to witness its disintegration as it abandons tradition for European ways. The book describes the simultaneous disintegration of Okonkwo and his village, as his pleas to his people not to exchange their culture for that of the English fall on deaf ears.

The brilliance of Things Fall Apart is that it addresses the imposition of colonization and the crisis in African culture caused by the collapse of colonial rule. Achebe prophetically argued that colonial domination and the culture it left in Africa had such a stranglehold on African peoples that its consequences would haunt African society long after colonizers had left the continent.\"},{\"id\":\"1889040T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"The Readers Catalog\",\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Achebe's most famous novel brilliantly portrays the impact of colonialism on a traditional Nigerian village at the turn of the century. Its hero, Obi Okonkwo, epitomizes both the nobility and the rigidity of the traditional culture. \"},{\"id\":\"1907941T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"Readers Catalog\",\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\" Achebe's most famous novel brilliantly portrays the impact of colonialism on a traditional Nigerian village at the turn of the century. Its hero, Obi Okonkwo, epitomizes both the nobility and the rigidity of the traditional culture. \"},{\"id\":\"85823171T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Colonialism and community loom large in this read that's as quick as it is compelling. This story has captivated and educated readers for over 60 years.

\"},{\"id\":\"91818876T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

Colonialism and community loom large in this read that's as quick as it is compelling. This story has captivated and educated readers for over 60 years.

\"},{\"id\":\"68736786T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"It is the express purpose of this guide to aid your group in reading, discussing, and more fully enjoying this illuminating work. It provides you with new perspectives on the work and hopefully provides you with new avenues for your conversations.

1. The Ibo religious structure consists of chi—the personal god—and many other gods and goddesses. What advantages and disadvantages does such a religion provide when compared with your own?

2. The text includes many original African terms and there is a glossary provided. Do you find that this lends atmospheric authenticity, thus bringing you closer to the work? Do you find it helpful?

3. There is an issue here of fate versus personal control over destiny. For example, Okonkwo's father is sometimes held responsible for his own actions, while at other times he is referred to as ill-fated and a victim of evil-fortune. Which do you think Okonkwo believes is true? What do you think Achebe believes is true? What do you believe?

4. The threads of the story are related in a circular fashion, as opposed to a conventional linear time pattern. What effect does this impose on the tale of Ikemefuma? What effect does it have on the story of Ezinma?

5. The villagers believe—or pretend to believe—that the "Supreme Court" of the nine egwugwu are ancestral spirits. In fact, they are men of the village in disguise. What does this say about the nature of justice in general, and in this village in particular?

6. Our own news media pre-programs us to view the kind of culture clash represented here as being purely racial in basis. Does Achebe's work impress as being primarily concerned with black versus white tensions? If not, what else is going on here?

7. Certain aspects of the clan's religious practice, such as the mutilation of a dead child to prevent its spirit from returning, might impress us as being barbaric. Casting an honest eye on our own religious practices, which ones might appear barbaric or bizarre to an outsider?

8. In an essay entitled "The Novelist as Teacher," Achebe states: "Here then is an adequate revolution for me to espouse—to help my society regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of the years of denigration and self-abasement" (Hopes and Impediments, p. 44). In what ways do you feel that this novel places Achebe closer to the fulfillment of this noble aspiration?

9. Nature plays an integral role in the mythic and real life of the Ibo villagers, much more so than in our own society. Discuss ways in which their perception of animals—such as the cat, the locust, the python—differ from your own, and how these different beliefs shape our behavior.

10. The sacrifice of Ikemefuma could be seen as being a parallel to the crucifixion of Jesus. The event also raises a series of questions. Ikemefuma and the villagers that are left behind are told that he is "going home" (p. 58). Does this euphemism for dying contain truth for them? Do they believe they are doing him a favor? Why do they wait three years, him and Okonkwo's family to think of him as a member of the family? Finally, Okonkwo, "the father," allows the sacrifice to occur as God presumably allowed Christ's sacrifice, with no resistance. How can one accept this behavior and maintain love for the father or God?

11. Of Ezinma, Okonkwo thinks: "She should have been a boy" (p. 64). Why is it necessary to the story that Okonkwo's most favored child be a girl?

12. Of one of the goddesses, it is said: "It was not the same Chielo who sat with her in the market...Chielo was not a woman that night" (p. 106). What do you make of this culture where people can be both themselves and also assume other personas? Can you think of any parallels in your own world?

13. There are many proverbs related during the course of the narrative. Recalling specific ones, what function do you perceive these proverbs as fulfilling in the life of the Ibo? What do you surmise Achebe's purpose to be in the inclusion of them here?

14. While the traditional figure of Okonkwo can in no doubt be seen as the central figure in the tale, Achebe chooses to relate his story in the third person rather than the first person narrative style. What benefits does he reap by adopting this approach?

15. Okonkwo rejects his father's way and is, in turn, rejected by Nwoye. Do you feel this pattern evolves inevitably through the nature of the father/son relationship? Or is there something more being here than mere generational conflict?

16. The lives of Ikemefuma and Okonkwo can be deemed parallel to the extent that they both have fathers whose behavior is judged unacceptable. What do you think the contributing factors are to the divergent paths their fate takes them on as a result of their respective fathers' shadows?

17. The title of the novel is derived from the William Butler Yeats poem entitled The Second Coming, concerned with the second coming of Christ. The completed line reads: "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold." What layers of meaning are discernible when this completed line is applied to the story?

18. The District Commissioner is going to title his work The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Niger (p. 209). What do you interpret from this to be his perception of Okonkwo and the people of Umuofia? And what do you imagine this augurs in the ensuing volumes in Achebe's trilogy of Nigerian life?

\"},{\"id\":\"51341056T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"It is the express purpose of this guide to aid your group in reading, discussing, and more fully enjoying this illuminating work. It provides you with new perspectives on the work and hopefully provides you with new avenues for your conversations.

1. The Ibo religious structure consists of chi—the personal god—and many other gods and goddesses. What advantages and disadvantages does such a religion provide when compared with your own?

2. The text includes many original African terms and there is a glossary provided. Do you find that this lends atmospheric authenticity, thus bringing you closer to the work? Do you find it helpful?

11. Of Ezinma, Okonkwo thinks: "She should have been a boy" (p. 64). Why is it necessary to the story that Okonkwo's most favored child be a girl?

\"},{\"id\":\"8827013T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

1. The Ibo religious structure consists of chi--the personal god--and many other gods and goddesses. What advantages and disadvantages does such a religion provide when compared with your own?

2. The text includes many original African terms and there is a glossary provided. Do you find that this lends atmospheric authenticity, thus bringing you closer to the work? Do you find it helpful?

5. The villagers believe--or pretend to believe--that the \\\"Supreme Court\\\" of the nine egwugwu are ancestral spirits. In fact, they are men of the village in disguise. What does this say about the nature of justice in general, and in this village in particular?

7. Certain aspects of the clan's religious practice, such as the mutilation of a dead child to prevent its spirit from returning, might impress us as being barbaric. Casting an honest eye on our own religiouspractices, which ones might appear barbaric or bizarre to an outsider?

8. In an essay entitled \\\"The Novelist as Teacher, \\\" Achebe states: \\\"Here then is an adequate revolution for me to espouse--to help my society regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of the years of denigration and self-abasement\\\" (Hopes and Impediments, p. 44). In what ways do you feel that this novel places Achebe closer to the fulfillment of this noble aspiration?

9. Nature plays an integral role in the mythic and real life of the Ibo villagers, much more so than in our own society. Discuss ways in which their perception of animals--such as the cat, the locust, the python--differ from your own, and how these different beliefs shape our behavior.

10. The sacrifice of Ikemefuma could be seen as being a parallel to the crucifixion of Jesus. The event also raises a series of questions. Ikemefuma and the villagers that are left behind are told that he is \\\"going home\\\" (p. 58). Does this euphemism for dying contain truth for them? Do they believe they are doing him a favor? Why do they wait three years, him and Okonkwo's family to think of him as a member of the family? Finally, Okonkwo, \\\"the father, \\\" allows the sacrifice to occur as God presumably allowed Christ's sacrifice, with no resistance. How can one accept this behavior and maintain love for the father or God?

11. Of Ezinma, Okonkwo thinks: \\\"She should have been a boy\\\" (p. 64). Why is it necessary to the story that Okonkwo's most favored child be a girl?

12. Of one of the goddesses, it is said: \\\"It was not the same Chielo who sat with her in the market... Chielo was not a woman that night\\\" (p. 106). What do you make of this culture where people can be both themselves and also assume other personas? Can you think of any parallels in your own world?

17. The title of the novel is derived from the William Butler Yeats poem entitled The Second Coming, concerned with the second coming of Christ. The completed line reads: \\\"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.\\\" What layers of meaning are discernible when this completed line is applied to the story?

\"},{\"id\":\"9406673T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"1. The Ibo religious structure consists of chi — the personal god — and many other gods and goddesses. What advantages and disadvantages does such a religion provide when compared with your own?

2. The text includes many original African terms and there is a glossary provided. Do you find that this lends atmospheric authenticity, thus bringing you closer to the work? Do you find it helpful?

5. The villagers believe — or pretend to believe — that the "Supreme Court" of the nine egwugwu are ancestral spirits. In fact, they are men of the village in disguise. What does this say about the nature of justice in general, and in this village in particular?

8. In an essay entitled "The Novelist as Teacher," Achebe states: "Here then is an adequate revolution for me to espouse — to help my society regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of the years of denigration and self-abasement" (Hopes and Impediments, p. 44). In what ways do you feel that this novel places Achebe closer to the fulfillment of this noble aspiration?

9. Nature plays an integral role in the mythic and real life of the Ibo villagers, much more so than in our own society. Discuss ways in which their perception of animals — such as the cat, the locust, the python — differ from your own, and how these different beliefs shape our behavior.

11. Of Ezinma, Okonkwo thinks: "She should have been a boy" (p. 64). Why is it necessary to the story that Okonkwo's most favored child be a girl?

12. Of one of the goddesses, it is said: "It was not the same Chielo who sat with her in the market…Chielo was not a woman that night" (p. 106). What do you make of this culture where people can be both themselves and also assume other personas? Can you think of any parallels in your own world?

\"},{\"id\":\"9724599T\",\"type\":\"Introduction\",\"linkText\":\"Forewords & Introductions\",\"typeId\":\"1014\",\"abbr\":\"PRF\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

It is the express purpose of this guide to aid your group in reading, discussing, and more fully enjoying this illuminating work. It provides you with new perspectives on the work and hopefully provides you with new avenues for your conversations. \"},{\"id\":\"9724613T\",\"type\":\"Foreword\",\"linkText\":\"Forewords & Introductions\",\"typeId\":\"1015\",\"abbr\":\"PRF\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

1. The Ibo religious structure consists of chi—the personal god—and many other gods and goddesses. What advantages and disadvantages does such a religion provide when compared with your own?

2. The text includes many original African terms and there is a glossary provided. Do you find that this lends atmospheric authenticity, thus bringing you closer to the work? Do you find it helpful?

7. Certain aspects of the clan's religious practice, such as the mutilation of a dead child to prevent its spirit from returning, might impress us as being barbaric. Casting an honest eyeon our own religious practices, which ones might appear barbaric or bizarre to an outsider?

11. Of Ezinma, Okonkwo thinks: "She should have been a boy" (p. 64). Why is it necessary to the story that Okonkwo's most favored child be a girl?

\"},{\"id\":\"120415603T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Chinua Achebe (1930–2013) was born in Nigeria. Widely considered to be the father of modern African literature, he is best known for his masterful African Trilogy, consisting of Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God, and No Longer at Ease. The trilogy tells the story of a single Nigerian community over three generations from first colonial contact to urban migration and the breakdown of traditional cultures. He is also the author of Anthills of the Savannah, A Man of the People, Girls at War and Other Stories, Home and Exile, Hopes and Impediments, Collected Poems, The Education of a British-Protected Child, Chike and the River, and There Was a Country. He was the David and Marianna Fisher University Professor and Professor of Africana Studies at Brown University and, for more than fifteen years, was the Charles P. Stevenson Jr. Professor of Languages and Literature at Bard College. Achebe was the recipient of the Nigerian National Merit Award, Nigeria’s highest award for intellectual achievement. In 2007, Achebe was awarded the Man Booker International Prize for lifetime achievement.

\"},{\"id\":\"68736785T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Chinua Achebe (1930–2013) was born in Nigeria. Widely considered to be the father of modern African literature, he is best known for his masterful African Trilogy, consisting of Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God, and No Longer at Ease. The trilogy tells the story of a single Nigerian community over three generations from first colonial contact to urban migration and the breakdown of traditional cultures. He is also the author of Anthills of the Savannah, A Man of the People, Girls at War and Other Stories, Home and Exile, Hopes and Impediments, Collected Poems, The Education of a British-Protected Child, Chike and the River, and There Was a Country. He was the David and Marianna Fisher University Professor and Professor of Africana Studies at Brown University and, for more than fifteen years, was the Charles P. Stevenson Jr. Professor of Languages and Literature at Bard College. Achebe was the recipient of the Nigerian National Merit Award, Nigeria’s highest award for intellectual achievement. In 2007, Achebe was awarded the Man Booker International Prize for lifetime achievement.\"},{\"id\":\"5505080T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Chinua Achebe (1930–2013) was born in Nigeria. Widely considered to be the father of modern African literature, he is best known for his masterful African Trilogy, consisting of Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God, and No Longer at Ease. The trilogy tells the story of a single Nigerian community over three generations from first colonial contact to urban migration and the breakdown of traditional cultures. He is also the author of Anthills of the Savannah, A Man of the People, Girls at War and Other Stories, Home and Exile, Hopes and Impediments, Collected Poems, The Education of a British-Protected Child, Chike and the River, and There Was a Country. He was the David and Marianna Fisher University Professor and Professor of Africana Studies at Brown University and, for more than fifteen years, was the Charles P. Stevenson Jr. Professor of Languages and Literature at Bard College. Achebe was the recipient of the Nigerian National Merit Award, Nigeria’s highest award for intellectual achievement. In 2007, Achebe was awarded the Man Booker International Prize for lifetime achievement.\"},{\"id\":\"115135324T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"Chinua Achebe (1930-2013) was born in Nigeria. Widely considered to be the father of modern African literature, he is best known for his masterful African Trilogy, consisting of Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God, and No Longer at Ease. The trilogy tells the story of a single Nigerian community over three generations from first colonial contact to urban migration and the breakdown of traditional cultures. He is also the author of Anthills of the Savannah, A Man of the People, Girls at War and Other Stories, Home and Exile, Hopes and Impediments, Collected Poems, The Education of a British-Protected Child, Chike and the River, and There Was a Country. He was the David and Marianna Fisher University Professor and Professor of Africana Studies at Brown University and, for more than fifteen years, was the Charles P. Stevenson Jr. Professor of Languages and Literature at Bard College. Achebe was the recipient of the Nigerian National Merit Award, Nigeria's highest award for intellectual achievement. In 2007, Achebe was awarded the Man Booker International Prize for lifetime achievement.\"}]",{"_41":3657,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3658},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080828203249","Things-Fall-Apart/Chinua-Achebe",{"_41":3660,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3661},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080825680113","1116754130",{"_41":3663,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080826826993",{"_41":3665,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3635},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080829186289",{"_41":3667,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3612},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40080823648497",{"_41":3669,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":3670},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61133188890865","{\"scale_min\":\"1.0\",\"scale_max\":\"5.0\",\"value\":\"3.4\"}",{"_41":3672,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":3673},"gid://shopify/Metafield/61133188858097","23",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3675,"_72":3676,"_946":947,"_829":3677,"_937":3678,"_935":3679,"_2358":3680,"_948":3683,"_980":59,"_958":3685,"_2371":3688,"_1041":3697,"_1003":3699,"_1072":3700},"gid://shopify/Product/8869446516977","The Testaments: The Sequel to The Handmaid's Tale (Booker Prize Winner)","9780525562627","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • WINNER OF THE BOOKER PRIZE • A gripping return to Gilead, The Testaments exposes the regime’s inner decay through the intersecting stories of three women whose choices could ignite its downfall.Now a Hulu Original series starring Ann Dowd, reprising her role as Aunt Lydia, Chase Infiniti as Agnes, and Lucy Halliday as Daisy.The Testaments can be read on its own or as a sequel to Margaret Atwood’s classic, The Handmaid’s Tale.More than fifteen years after the events of The Handmaid's Tale, the theocratic regime of the Republic of Gilead maintains its grip on power, but there are signs it is beginning to rot from within. At this crucial moment, the lives of three women converge, with potentially explosive results. Two have grown up as part of the first generation to come of age in the new order. The testimonies of these two young women are joined by that of Aunt Lydia, whose complex past and uncertain future unfold in surprising and pivotal ways.With The Testaments, Margaret Atwood opens up the innermost workings of Gilead, as each woman is forced to come to terms with who she is and how far she will go for what she believes.","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • WINNER OF THE BOOKER PRIZE • A gripping return to Gilead, The Testaments exposes the regime’s inner decay through the intersecting stories of three women whose choices could ignite its downfall.

Now a Hulu Original series starring Ann Dowd, reprising her role as Aunt Lydia, Chase Infiniti as Agnes, and Lucy Halliday as Daisy.

The Testaments can be read on its own or as a sequel to Margaret Atwood’s classic, The Handmaid’s Tale.

More than fifteen years after the events of The Handmaid's Tale, the theocratic regime of the Republic of Gilead maintains its grip on power, but there are signs it is beginning to rot from within. At this crucial moment, the lives of three women converge, with potentially explosive results. Two have grown up as part of the first generation to come of age in the new order. The testimonies of these two young women are joined by that of Aunt Lydia, whose complex past and uncertain future unfold in surprising and pivotal ways.

With The Testaments, Margaret Atwood opens up the innermost workings of Gilead, as each woman is forced to come to terms with who she is and how far she will go for what she believes.",{"_41":3681,"_54":3682,"_56":3618,"_50":3553,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47544225595633","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9780525562627_p0.jpg?v=1765088591",{"_950":3684},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},{"_950":3686,"_956":3687},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3689},[3690],{"_41":3691,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3692,"_983":3693,"_928":3694,"_986":3695,"_990":3677,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46269674946801",{"_41":3681,"_54":3682,"_2364":-5,"_56":3618,"_50":3553},{"_952":2367,"_954":955},{"_72":3676,"_829":3677},[3696],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3698},"[\"Page & Screen (p4180)\",\"Behind the Headlines: Abortion Rights & the Court (p9803)\"]",{"_989":3677},[3701,3704,3707,3710,3712,-5,3714,3716,3719,3722,3725,-5,3727,3729,-5,3731,3733],{"_41":3702,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3703},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764198846705","[{\"contributorId\":153111,\"fullName\":\"Margaret Atwood\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3705,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1022,"_989":3706},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764199469297","Handmaid's Tale Series",{"_41":3708,"_1075":1076,"_1077":3646,"_989":3709},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764199698673","2",{"_41":3711,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764200354033",{"_41":3713,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764197929201",{"_41":3715,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764200517873",{"_41":3717,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3718},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764203237617","[{\"id\":\"125601173T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"79695786T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"79695785T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"

1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"118798157T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"120935238T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"6\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"70744534T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"7\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"70744531T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"8\",\"text\":\"1 | The Ardua Hall Holograph

Only dead people are allowed to have statues, but I have been given one while still alive. Already I am petrified.

This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me; it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I inclined my head in a nod.

My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.

Clutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful—one of our Handmaids—and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser. This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.

As a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. But at least I look sane. It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress—a true believer since deceased—had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. Her bust of Aunt Helena looks rabid, that of Aunt Vidala is hyperthyroid, and that of Aunt Elizabeth appears ready to explode.

At the unveiling the sculptress was nervous. Was her renditionof me sufficiently flattering? Did I approve of it? Would I be seen toapprove? I toyed with the idea of frowning as the sheet came off, butthought better of it: I am not without compassion. “Very lifelike,” Isaid.

That was nine years ago. Since then my statue has weathered:pigeons have decorated me, moss has sprouted in my damper crevices.Votaries have taken to leaving offerings at my feet: eggs forfertility, oranges to suggest the fullness of pregnancy, croissants toreference the moon. I ignore the breadstuffs—usuallythey havebeen rained on—butpocket the oranges. Oranges are so refreshing.

* * *

I write these words in my private sanctum within the library of Ardua Hall—one of the few libraries remaining after the enthusiastic book-burnings that have been going on across our land. The corrupt and blood-smeared fingerprints of the past must be wiped away to create a clean space for the morally pure generation that is surely about to arrive. Such is the theory.

But among these bloody fingerprints are those made by ourselves, and these can’t be wiped away so easily. Over the years I’ve buried a lot of bones; now I’m inclined to dig them up again—if only for your edification, my unknown reader. If you are reading, this manuscript at least will have survived. Though perhaps I’m fantasizing: perhaps I will never have a reader. Perhaps I’ll only be talking to the wall, in more ways than one.

That’s enough inscribing for today. My hand hurts, my back aches, and my nightly cup of hot milk awaits me. I’ll stash this screed in its hiding place, avoiding the surveillance cameras—I know where they are, having placed them myself. Despite such precautions, I’m aware of the risk I’m running: writing can be dangerous. What betrayals, and then what denunciations, might lie in store for me? There are several within Ardua Hall who would love to get their hands on these pages.

Wait, I counsel them silently: it will get worse.\"},{\"id\":\"118798161T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"“A chilling invitation no Atwood fan can resist . . . The Testaments reminds us of the power of truth in the face of evil.”
—People

“Margaret Atwood’s powers are on full display . . . Everyone should read The Testaments.”
—Los Angeles Times

“A fast, immersive narrative that’s as propulsive as it is melodramatic.”
—Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times

“The Testaments is worthy of the literary classic it continues. That’s thanks in part to Atwood’s capacity to surprise, even writing in a universe we think we know so well.”
—USA Today

“The women of Gilead are more fascinating than ever.”
—NPR

“There may be no novelist better suited to tapping the current era’s anxieties than Margaret Atwood.”
—Entertainment Weekly

“Powerful, revealing, and engaging.”
—Boston Globe

“A rare treat . . . a corker of a plot, culminating in a breathless flight to freedom.”
—Laura Miller, Slate.com\"},{\"id\":\"118798159T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"2019 Booker Prize, Winner
2019 Scotiabank Giller Prize, Short-listed
\"},{\"id\":\"113790866T\",\"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 timely sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale is a powerful call to action that teaches young people that their voices and choices matter. A gripping work of dystopian fiction, this novel deserves a place on required reading lists.

\"},{\"id\":\"125601177T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"The following questions are designed to enhance your discussion of The Testaments, Margaret Atwood’s companion to The Handmaid’s Tale.

1. Clothes play a dual role in the novel. They signal life stages as well as status and class: the pink, white, and plum dresses worn by “special girls”; the drab prison-like stripes of the Econofamilies; and the green dresses of the betrothed girls. Did this aspect of the novel strike you as odd? Or is it actually not very different from our own obsession with brands and logos that convey a certain level of wealth and status?

2. Aunt Lydia tells us that Gilead actually has “an embarrassingly high emigration rate.” Can those who manage to leave Gilead ever truly “escape”?

3. Daisy/Jade is, to say the least, a reluctant revolutionary. But if you were her age and were asked to absorb all of the shocking information she has to process in a very short period of time, would you have reacted any differently?

4. After Agnes is assaulted, she recalls other girls who reported such incidents having been told that “nice girls did not notice the minor antics of men, they simply looked the other way,” which is a troubling parallel between Gilead and reality. Do you think there will ever come a time when women will feel unashamed to speak out when they are sexually assaulted? Or has this time already arrived in the age of #MeToo?

5. When Aunt Lydia dons the garb of the female stadium shooters, she says, “I felt a chill. I put it on. What else should I have done?” What would you have done?

6. Agnes’s interpretation of “Dick and Jane” showcases Margaret Atwood’s trademark wit, but there is more to it than that. Discuss the ways in which the author cleverly builds the sense of suspicion and fear that informs the way Agnes processes the events in her life at Ardua Hall.

7. Several references are made to shortages of basic necessities such as food and electricity. Birth defects and juvenile cancer also seem to plague Gilead. What do you think has caused this? Possibly environmental issues? Or the ongoing war?

8. Agnes considers her admittance to Hildegard Library to be a “golden key” that will reveal “the riches that lay within.” But it is here that she learns the truth about the Concubine Cut into Twelve Pieces, as well as the truth about her half-sister. Is there any book that provided you with a similar pivotal and eye-opening experience?

9. When Aunt Lydia relays the Aesop’s Fables story of Fox and Cat, she reveals much about her survival skills. Which are you—Fox or Cat?

10. Did the book inspire you to take action so that Gilead remains fiction? Did you perhaps become more active in local politics or make a charitable donation to an organization that supports women’s rights?

11. The conclusion of The Handmaid’s Tale left readers with many tantalizing questions. Which of your questions were answered by The Testaments? Which were not?

\"},{\"id\":\"70744535T\",\"type\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"linkText\":\"Reading Group Guide\",\"typeId\":\"1021\",\"abbr\":\"RGG\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"The following questions are designed to enhance your discussion of The Testaments, Margaret Atwood’s sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale.

2. Aunt Lydia tells us that Gilead actually has “an embarrassingly high emigration rate.” Can those who manage to leave Gilead ever truly “escape”?

5. When Aunt Lydia dons the garb of the female stadium shooters, she says, “I felt a chill. I put it on. What else should I have done?” What would you have done?

9. When Aunt Lydia relays the Aesop’s Fables story of Fox and Cat, she reveals much about her survival skills. Which are you—Fox or Cat?

11. The conclusion of The Handmaid’s Tale left readers with many tantalizing questions. Which of your questions were answered by The Testaments? Which were not?

\"},{\"id\":\"118798163T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry, and critical essays. Her novels include Cat's Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin, and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid’s Tale, was followed in 2019 by a sequel, The Testaments, which was a global number one bestseller and won the Booker Prize. Atwood has won numerous awards, including the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the PEN America Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. In 2019, she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She lives in Toronto.

\"},{\"id\":\"125601181T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood, whose work has been published in more than forty-five countries, is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry, critical essays, and graphic novels. In addition to The Handmaid’s Tale, now an award-winning TV series, her novels include Cat’s Eye, short-listed for the 1989 Booker Prize; Alias Grace, which won the Giller Prize in Canada and the Premio Mondello in Italy; The Blind Assassin, winner of the 2000 Booker Prize; Oryx and Crake, short-listed for the 2003 Man Booker Prize; The Year of the Flood, MaddAddam; and Hag-Seed. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the Franz Kafka Prize, the PEN Center USA Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Los Angeles Times Innovator’s Award. In 2019, she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature.\"},{\"id\":\"79695793T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood, whose work has been published in more than forty-five countries, is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry, critical essays, and graphic novels. In addition to The Handmaid’s Tale, now an award-winning TV series, her novels include Cat’s Eye, short-listed for the 1989 Booker Prize; Alias Grace, which won the Giller Prize in Canada and the Premio Mondello in Italy; The Blind Assassin, winner of the 2000 Booker Prize; Oryx and Crake, short-listed for the 2003 Man Booker Prize; The Year of the Flood, MaddAddam; and Hag-Seed. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the Franz Kafka Prize, the PEN Center USA Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Los Angeles Times Innovator’s Award. In 2019, she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature.\"},{\"id\":\"79695790T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Margaret Atwood, whose work has been published in more than forty-five countries, is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry, critical essays, and graphic novels. In addition to The Handmaid’s Tale, now an award-winning TV series, her novels include Cat’s Eye, short-listed for the 1989 Booker Prize; Alias Grace, which won the Giller Prize in Canada and the Premio Mondello in Italy; The Blind Assassin, winner of the 2000 Booker Prize; The MaddAddam Trilogy; and Hag-Seed. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the Franz Kafka Prize, the PEN Center USA Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Los Angeles Times Innovator’s Award. She lives in Toronto with the writer Graeme Gibson.\"},{\"id\":\"125601179T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her novels include Cat's Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin, and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid's Tale, was followed in 2019 by a sequel, The Testaments, which was a global number one bestseller and won the Booker Prize. In 2020 she published Dearly, her first collection of poetry for a decade.

\"},{\"id\":\"70744540T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"7\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her novels include Cat’s Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin, and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid’s Tale, was followed in 2019 by a sequel, The Testaments, which was a global number one bestseller and won the Booker Prize. In 2020 she published Dearly, her first collection of poetry for a decade.

Atwood has won numerous awards including the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the PEN USA Lifetime Achievement Award and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. In 2019 she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She has also worked as a cartoonist, illustrator, librettist, playwright and puppeteer. She lives in Toronto, Canada.\"},{\"id\":\"70744537T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"8\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her novels include Cat’s Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin, and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid’s Tale, was followed in 2019 by a sequel, The Testaments, which was a global number one bestseller and won the Booker Prize. In 2020 she published Dearly, her first collection of poetry for a decade.

Atwood has won numerous awards including the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the PEN USA Lifetime Achievement Award and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. In 2019 she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She has also worked as a cartoonist, illustrator, librettist, playwright and puppeteer. She lives in Toronto, Canada.\"},{\"id\":\"113126456T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"9\",\"text\":\"Margaret Atwood is the author of more than fifty books of fiction, poetry and critical essays. Her novels include Cat's Eye, The Robber Bride, Alias Grace, The Blind Assassin, and the MaddAddam trilogy. Her 1985 classic, The Handmaid's Tale, was followed in 2019 by a sequel, The Testaments, which was a global number one bestseller and won the Booker Prize. In 2020 she published Dearly, her first collection of poetry for a decade.

Atwood has won numerous awards including the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Imagination in Service to Society, the Franz Kafka Prize, the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade, the PEN USA Lifetime Achievement Award and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. In 2019 she was made a member of the Order of the Companions of Honour for services to literature. She has also worked as a cartoonist, illustrator, librettist, playwright and puppeteer. She lives in Toronto, Canada.\"}]",{"_41":3720,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1048,"_989":3721},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764202221809","The-Testaments/Margaret-Atwood",{"_41":3723,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1008,"_989":3724},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764197306609","1133016437",{"_41":3726,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1005,"_989":1007},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764200124657",{"_41":3728,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1041,"_989":3698},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764203565297",{"_41":3730,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1003,"_989":3677},"gid://shopify/Metafield/40764193833201",{"_41":3732,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2463,"_989":2464},"gid://shopify/Metafield/66433316782321",{"_41":3734,"_1075":2462,"_1077":2467,"_989":3735},"gid://shopify/Metafield/66433316749553","25",{"_2351":2352,"_41":3737,"_72":3738,"_946":947,"_829":3739,"_937":3740,"_935":3741,"_2358":3742,"_948":3746,"_980":59,"_958":3749,"_2371":3752,"_1041":3761,"_1003":3763,"_1072":3764},"gid://shopify/Product/8848798744817","I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter","9781524700515","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A “stunning” (America Ferrera) YA novel about a teenager coming to terms with losing her sister and finding herself amid the pressures, expectations, and stereotypes of growing up in a Mexican American home. “Alive and crackling—a gritty tale wrapped in a page-turner. ”—The New York Times Perfect Mexican daughters do not go away to college. And they do not move out of their parents’ house after high school graduation. Perfect Mexican daughters never abandon their family. But Julia is not your perfect Mexican daughter. That was Olga’s role. Then a tragic accident on the busiest street in Chicago leaves Olga dead and Julia left behind to reassemble the shattered pieces of her family. And no one seems to acknowledge that Julia is broken, too. Instead, her mother seems to channel her grief into pointing out every possible way Julia has failed. But it’s not long before Julia discovers that Olga might not have been as perfect as everyone thought. With the help of her best friend Lorena, and her first love, first everything boyfriend Connor, Julia is determined to find out. Was Olga really what she seemed? Or was there more to her sister’s story? And either way, how can Julia even attempt to live up to a seemingly impossible ideal?","#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A “stunning” (America Ferrera) YA novel about a teenager coming to terms with losing her sister and finding herself amid the pressures, expectations, and stereotypes of growing up in a Mexican American home.

“Alive and crackling—a gritty tale wrapped in a page-turner. ”—The New York Times

Perfect Mexican daughters do not go away to college. And they do not move out of their parents’ house after high school graduation. Perfect Mexican daughters never abandon their family.

But Julia is not your perfect Mexican daughter. That was Olga’s role.

Then a tragic accident on the busiest street in Chicago leaves Olga dead and Julia left behind to reassemble the shattered pieces of her family. And no one seems to acknowledge that Julia is broken, too. Instead, her mother seems to channel her grief into pointing out every possible way Julia has failed.

But it’s not long before Julia discovers that Olga might not have been as perfect as everyone thought. With the help of her best friend Lorena, and her first love, first everything boyfriend Connor, Julia is determined to find out. Was Olga really what she seemed? Or was there more to her sister’s story? And either way, how can Julia even attempt to live up to a seemingly impossible ideal?",{"_41":3743,"_54":3744,"_56":3745,"_50":2363,"_2364":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductImage/47625228419313","https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0674/5433/7265/files/9781524700515_p0.jpg?v=1779244717",1334,{"_950":3747},{"_952":3748,"_954":955},"14.99",{"_950":3750,"_956":3751},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_952":961,"_954":955},{"_965":3753},[3754],{"_41":3755,"_980":59,"_981":-5,"_711":3756,"_983":3757,"_928":3758,"_986":3759,"_990":3739,"_72":977,"_991":-5},"gid://shopify/ProductVariant/46246961807601",{"_41":3743,"_54":3744,"_2364":-5,"_56":3745,"_50":2363},{"_952":3748,"_954":955},{"_72":3738,"_829":3739},[3760],{"_800":973,"_989":977},{"_989":3762},"[\"Celebrate Women's History Month (p10585)\",\"The Books You've Always Meant to Read (p10565)\"]",{"_989":3739},[3765,-5,-5,3768,3770,-5,3772,3774,3777,3780,3783,-5,3785,3787,-5,3789,3792],{"_41":3766,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1080,"_989":3767},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39762982732017","[{\"contributorId\":18543945,\"fullName\":\"Erika L. Sánchez\",\"jobName\":\"Author\",\"sequenceNumber\":1}]",{"_41":3769,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1083,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39762982928625",{"_41":3771,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1035,"_989":947},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39762982404337",{"_41":3773,"_1075":1076,"_1077":1086,"_989":1087},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39762982961393",{"_41":3775,"_1075":1076,"_1077":2394,"_989":3776},"gid://shopify/Metafield/39762983583985","[{\"id\":\"57676678T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

One

I wanted her to wear the pretty purple dress that didn’t hide her body like all of her other outfits, but Amá chose the bright yellow one with the pink flowers I’ve always hated. It was so unstylish, so classically Olga. It made her either four or eighty years old. I could never decide which. Her hair is just as bad as the dress--tight, crunchy curls that remind me of a rich lady’s poodle. How cruel to let her look like that. The bruises and gashes on her cheeks are masked with thick coats of cheap foundation, making her face haggard, even though she is (was) only twenty-two. Don’t they pump your body full of strange chemicals to prevent your skin from stretching and puckering, to keep your face from resembling a rubber mask? Where did they find this mortician, the flea market?

My poor older sister had a special talent for making herself less attractive. She was skinny and had an okay body, but she always managed to make it look like a sack of potatoes. Her face was pale and plain, never a single drop of makeup. What a waste. I’m no fashion icon--far from it--but I do feel strongly against dressing like the elderly. Now she’s doing it from beyond the grave, but this time it’s not even her fault.

Olga never looked or acted like a normal twenty-two-year-old. It made me mad sometimes. Here she was, a grown-ass woman, and all she did was go to work, sit at home with our parents, and take one class each semester at the local community college. Every once and a while, she’d go shopping with Amá or to the movies with her best friend, Angie, to watch terrible romantic comedies about clumsy but adorable blond women who fall in love with architects in the streets of New York City. What kind of life is that? Didn’t she want more? Didn’t she ever want to go out and grab the world by the balls? Ever since I could pick up a pen, I’ve wanted to be a famous writer. I want to be so successful that people stop me on the street and ask, “Oh my God, are you Julia Reyes, the best writer who has ever graced this earth?” All I know is that I’m going to pack my bags when I graduate and say, “Peace out, mothafuckas.”

But not Olga. Saint Olga, the perfect Mexican daughter. Sometimes I wanted to scream at her until something switched on in her brain. But the only time I ever asked her why she didn’t move out or go to a real college, she told me to leave her alone in a voice so weak and brittle, I never wanted to ask her again. Now I’ll never know what Olga would have become. Maybe she would have surprised us all.

Here I am, thinking all of these horrible thoughts about my dead sister. It’s easier to be pissed, though. If I stop being angry, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart until I’m just a warm mound of flesh on the floor.

While I stare at my chewed-up nails and sink deeper into this floppy green couch, I hear Amá wailing. She really throws her body into it, too. “Mija, mija!” she screams as she practically climbs inside the casket. Apá doesn’t even try to pull her off. I can’t blame him, because when he tried to calm her down a few hours ago, Amá kicked and flailed her arms until she gave him a black eye. I guess he’s going to leave her alone for now. She’ll tire herself out eventually. I’ve seen babies do that.

Apá has been sitting in the back of the room all day, refusing to speak to anyone, staring off into nothing, like he always does. Sometimes I think I see his dark mustache quivering, but his eyes stay dry and clear as glass.

I want to hug Amá and tell her it’s going to be okay, even though it’s not and never will be, but I feel almost paralyzed, like I’m underwater and made of lead. When I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Besides, Amá and I haven’t had that kind of relationship since I was little. We don’t hug and say, “I love you,” like on TV shows about boring white families who live in two-story houses and talk about their feelings. She and Olga were practically best friends, and I was the odd daughter out. We’ve been bickering, drifting away from each other for years. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid Amá because we always end up arguing over stupid, petty things. We once fought about an egg yolk, for instance. True story.

Apá and I are the only ones in my family who haven’t cried. He just hangs his head and remains silent as a stone. Maybe something is wrong with us. Maybe we’re messed up beyond crying. Though my eyes haven’t produced tears, I’ve felt the grief burrow in every cell of my body. There are moments that I feel like I might suffocate, as if all my insides are tied into a tight little ball. I haven’t taken a crap in almost four days, but I’m not about to tell Amá in the state she’s in. I’ll just let it build until I explode like a piñata.

Amá has always been prettier than Olga, even now, with her swollen eyes and splotchy skin, which is not the way it’s supposed to be. Her name is more graceful, too--Amparo Montenegro Reyes. Mothers are not supposed to be more beautiful than their daughters, and daughters are not supposed to die before their mothers. But Amá is more attractive than most people. She hardly has any wrinkles and has these big, round eyes that always look sad and wounded. Her long hair is thick and dark, and her body is still slim, unlike the other moms in the neighborhood who are shaped like upside-down pears. Every time I walk down the street with Amá, guys whistle and honk, which makes me wish I carried a slingshot.

Amá is rubbing Olga’s face and crying softly now. This won’t last, though. She’s always quiet for a few minutes, then, all of a sudden, lets out a moan that makes your soul turn inside out. Now Tía Cuca is rubbing her back and telling her that Olga is with Jesus, that she can finally be in peace.

But when was Olga not in peace? This Jesus stuff is all a sack of crap. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. The only thing that makes sense to me is what Walt Whitman said about death: “Look for me under your boot soles.” Olga’s body will turn to dirt, which will grow into trees, and then someone in the future will step on their fallen leaves. There is no heaven. There is only earth, sky, and the transfer of energy. The idea would almost be beautiful if this weren’t such a nightmare.

Two ladies waiting in line to see Olga in her casket begin crying. I’ve never seen them in my life. One is wearing a faded and billowy black dress, and the other wears a saggy skirt that looks like an old curtain. They clasp each other’s hands and whisper.

Olga and I didn’t have much in common, but we did love each other. There are stacks and stacks of pictures to prove it. In Amá’s favorite, Olga is braiding my hair. Amá says Olga used to pretend that I was her baby. She’d put me in her toy carriage and sing me songs by Cepillín, that scary Mexican clown who looks like a rapist but everyone loves for some reason.

I would give anything to go back to the day she died and do things differently. I think of all the ways I could have kept Olga from getting on that bus. I’ve replayed the day over and over in my head so many times and have written down every single detail, but I still can’t find the foreshadowing. When someone dies, people always say they had some sort of premonition, a sinking feeling that something awful was right around the corner. I didn’t.

The day felt like any other: boring, uneventful, and annoying. We had swimming for gym class that afternoon. I’ve always hated being in that disgusting petri dish. The idea of being dunked in everyone’s pee--and God knows what else--is enough to give me a panic attack, and the chlorine makes my skin itch and eyes sting. I always try to get out of it with elaborate and not-so-elaborate lies. That time, I told the thin-lipped Mrs. Kowalski that I was on my period again (the eighth day in a row), and she said she didn’t believe me, that it was impossible for my period to be so long. Of course I was lying, but who was she to question my menstrual cycle? How intrusive.

“Do you want to check?” I asked. “I’d be very happy to provide you with empirical evidence if you want, even though I think you’re violating my human rights.” I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth. Maybe I have some sort of condition that keeps me from thinking through what I’m going to say. Sometimes it’s word-puke spilling out everywhere. That was too much, even for me, but I was in a particularly foul mood and didn’t want to deal with anyone. My moods shift like that all the time, even before Olga died. One minute I feel okay, and then all of a sudden my energy plummets for no reason at all. It’s hard to explain.

Of course Mrs. Kowalski sent me to the principal’s office, and as usual, they wouldn’t let me go home until my parents came to pick me up. This had happened several times last year. Everyone knows me at the principal’s office already. I’m there more often than some of the gangbangers, and it’s always for running my mouth when I’m not supposed to. Whenever I enter the office, the secretary, Mrs. Maldonado, rolls her eyes and clucks her tongue.

Typically, Amá meets with my principal, Mr. Potter, who tells her what a disrespectful student I am. Then Amá gasps at what I’ve done and says, “Julia, que malcriada,” and apologizes to him over and over again in her broken English. She is always apologizing to white people, which makes me feel embarrassed. And then I feel ashamed of my shame.

Amá punishes me for one or two weeks, depending on how severe my behavior is, and then, a few months later, it happens again. Like I said, I don’t know how to control my mouth. Amá tells me, “Como te gusta la mala vida,” and I guess she’s right, because I always end up making things more difficult for myself. I used to be a model student, skipped third grade and everything, but now I’m a troublemaker.

Olga had taken the bus that day because her car was in the shop to get the brakes replaced. Amá was supposed to pick her up, but because she had to deal with me at school, she couldn’t. If I’d shut my mouth, things would have worked out differently, but how was I supposed to know? When Olga got off the bus to transfer to another one across the street, she didn’t see that the light had already turned green because she was looking at her phone. The bus honked to warn her, but it was too late. Olga stepped into the busy street at the wrong time. She got hit by a semi. Not just hit, though--smashed.

Whenever I think of my sister’s crushed organs, I want to scream in a field of flowers until I’m hoarse.

Two of the witnesses said that she was smiling right before it happened. It’s a miracle that her face was okay enough to have an open casket. She was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.

Even though the man driving couldn’t have seen her because she was blocked by the bus and the light was green and Olga shouldn’t have crossed one of the busiest streets in Chicago with her face in her phone, Amá cursed the driver up and down until she lost her voice. She got really creative, too. She had always scolded me for saying the word damn, which is not even a bad word, and here she was, telling the driver and God to fuck their mothers and themselves. I just watched her with my mouth hanging open.

We all knew it wasn’t the driver’s fault, but Amá needed someone to accuse. She hasn’t blamed me directly, but I can see it in her big sad eyes every time she looks at me.

My nosy aunts are whispering behind me now. I can feel their eyes latched to the back of my head again. I know they’re saying that this is my fault. They’ve never liked me because they think I’m trouble. When I dyed chunks of my hair bright blue, those drama queens almost needed to be put on stretchers and rushed to the hospital. They act as if I’m some sort of devil child because I don’t like to go to church and would rather read books with them. Why is that a crime, though? They’re boring. Plus, they have no idea how much I loved my sister.

I’ve had enough of their whispering, so I turn around to give them a dirty look. That’s when I see Lorena come in, thank God. She’s the only person who can make me feel better right now.

Everyone turns to stare at her in her outrageously high heels, tight black dress, and excessive makeup. Lorena is always drawing attention to herself. Maybe that’ll give them something else to gossip about. She hugs me so tight she nearly cracks my ribs. Her cheap cherry body spray fills my nose and mouth.

Amá doesn’t like Lorena because she thinks she’s wild and slutty, which isn’t untrue, but she has been my friend since I was eight and is more loyal than anyone I’ve ever known. I whisper to her that my tías are talking about me, that they’re blaming me for what happened to Olga, that they’re making me so angry, I want to smash all the windows with my bare fists.

(Continues…)

Excerpted from "I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Erika L. Sánchez.
Excerpted by permission of Random House Children's Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

\"},{\"id\":\"125750472T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"

What’s surprised me most about seeing my sister dead is the lingering smirk on her face. Her pale lips are turned up ever so slightly, and someone has filled in her patchy eyebrows with a black pencil. The top half of her face is angry--like she’s ready to stab someone--and the bottom half is almost smug. This is not the Olga I knew. Olga was as meek and fragile as a baby bird.

I wanted her to wear the pretty purple dress that didn’t hide her body like all of her other outfits, but Amá chose the bright yellow one with the pink flowers I’ve always hated. It was so unstylish, so classically Olga. It made her either four or eighty years old. I could never decide which. Her hair is just as bad as the dress--tight, crunchy curls that remind me of a rich lady’s poodle. How cruel to let her look like that. The bruises and gashes on her cheeks are masked with thick coats of cheap foundation, making her face haggard, even though she is (was) only twenty-two. Don’t they pump your body full of strange chemicals to prevent your skin from stretching and puckering, to keep your face from resembling a rubber mask? Where did they find this mortician, the flea market?

My poor older sister had a special talent for making herself less attractive. She was skinny and had an okay body, but she always managed to make it look like a sack of potatoes. Her face was pale and plain, never a single drop of makeup. What a waste. I’m no fashion icon--far from it--but I do feel strongly against dressing like the elderly. Now she’s doing it from beyond the grave, but this time it’s not even her fault.

Olga never looked or acted like a normal twenty-two-year-old. It made me mad sometimes. Here she was, a grown-ass woman, and all she did was go to work, sit at home with our parents, and take one class each semester at the local community college. Every once and a while, she’d go shopping with Amá or to the movies with her best friend, Angie, to watch terrible romantic comedies about clumsy but adorable blond women who fall in love with architects in the streets of New York City. What kind of life is that? Didn’t she want more? Didn’t she ever want to go out and grab the world by the balls? Ever since I could pick up a pen, I’ve wanted to be a famous writer. I want to be so successful that people stop me on the street and ask, “Oh my God, are you Julia Reyes, the best writer who has ever graced this earth?” All I know is that I’m going to pack my bags when I graduate and say, “Peace out, mothafuckas.”

But not Olga. Saint Olga, the perfect Mexican daughter. Sometimes I wanted to scream at her until something switched on in her brain. But the only time I ever asked her why she didn’t move out or go to a real college, she told me to leave her alone in a voice so weak and brittle, I never wanted to ask her again. Now I’ll never know what Olga would have become. Maybe she would have surprised us all.

Here I am, thinking all of these horrible thoughts about my dead sister. It’s easier to be pissed, though. If I stop being angry, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart until I’m just a warm mound of flesh on the floor.

While I stare at my chewed-up nails and sink deeper into this floppy green couch, I hear Amá wailing. She really throws her body into it, too. “Mija, mija!” she screams as she practically climbs inside the casket. Apá doesn’t even try to pull her off. I can’t blame him, because when he tried to calm her down a few hours ago, Amá kicked and flailed her arms until she gave him a black eye. I guess he’s going to leave her alone for now. She’ll tire herself out eventually. I’ve seen babies do that.

Apá has been sitting in the back of the room all day, refusing to speak to anyone, staring off into nothing, like he always does. Sometimes I think I see his dark mustache quivering, but his eyes stay dry and clear as glass.

I want to hug Amá and tell her it’s going to be okay, even though it’s not and never will be, but I feel almost paralyzed, like I’m underwater and made of lead. When I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Besides, Amá and I haven’t had that kind of relationship since I was little. We don’t hug and say, “I love you,” like on TV shows about boring white families who live in two-story houses and talk about their feelings. She and Olga were practically best friends, and I was the odd daughter out. We’ve been bickering, drifting away from each other for years. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid Amá because we always end up arguing over stupid, petty things. We once fought about an egg yolk, for instance. True story.

Apá and I are the only ones in my family who haven’t cried. He just hangs his head and remains silent as a stone. Maybe something is wrong with us. Maybe we’re messed up beyond crying. Though my eyes haven’t produced tears, I’ve felt the grief burrow in every cell of my body. There are moments that I feel like I might suffocate, as if all my insides are tied into a tight little ball. I haven’t taken a crap in almost four days, but I’m not about to tell Amá in the state she’s in. I’ll just let it build until I explode like a piñata.

Amá has always been prettier than Olga, even now, with her swollen eyes and splotchy skin, which is not the way it’s supposed to be. Her name is more graceful, too--Amparo Montenegro Reyes. Mothers are not supposed to be more beautiful than their daughters, and daughters are not supposed to die before their mothers. But Amá is more attractive than most people. She hardly has any wrinkles and has these big, round eyes that always look sad and wounded. Her long hair is thick and dark, and her body is still slim, unlike the other moms in the neighborhood who are shaped like upside-down pears. Every time I walk down the street with Amá, guys whistle and honk, which makes me wish I carried a slingshot.

Amá is rubbing Olga’s face and crying softly now. This won’t last, though. She’s always quiet for a few minutes, then, all of a sudden, lets out a moan that makes your soul turn inside out. Now Tía Cuca is rubbing her back and telling her that Olga is with Jesus, that she can finally be in peace.

\"},{\"id\":\"68547100T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"What’s surprised me most about seeing my sister dead is the lingering smirk on her face. Her pale lips are turned up ever so slightly, and someone has filled in her patchy eyebrows with a black pencil. The top half of her face is angry—like she’s ready to stab someone—and the bottom half is almost smug. This is not the Olga I knew. Olga was as meek and fragile as a baby bird.

I wanted her to wear the pretty purple dress that didn’t hide her body like all of her other outfits, but Amá chose the bright yellow one with the pink flowers I’ve always hated. It was so unstylish, so classically Olga. It made her either four or eighty years old. I could never decide which. Her hair is just as bad as the dress—tight, crunchy curls that remind me of a rich lady’s poodle. How cruel to let her look like that. The bruises and gashes on her cheeks are masked with thick coats of cheap foundation, making her face haggard, even though she is (was) only twenty-two. Don’t they pump your body full of strange chemicals to prevent your skin from stretching and puckering, to keep your face from resembling a rubber mask? Where did they find this mortician, the flea market?

My poor older sister had a special talent for making herself less attractive. She was skinny and had an okay body, but she always managed to make it look like a sack of potatoes. Her face was pale and plain, never a single drop of makeup. What a waste. I’m no fashion icon—far from it—but I do feel strongly against dressing like the elderly. Now she’s doing it from beyond the grave, but this time it’s not even her fault.

Olga never looked or acted like a normal twenty-two-year-old. It made me mad sometimes. Here she was, a grown-ass woman, and all she did was go to work, sit at home with our parents, and take one class each semester at the local community college. Every once and a while, she’d go shopping with Amá or to the movies with her best friend, Angie, to watch terrible romantic comedies about clumsy but adorable blond women who fall in love with architects in the streets of New York City. What kind of life is that? Didn’t she want more? Didn’t she ever want to go out and grab the world by the balls? Ever since I could pick up a pen, I’ve wanted to be a famous writer. I want to be so successful that people stop me on the street and ask, “Oh my God, are you Julia Reyes, the best writer who has ever graced this earth?” All I know is that I’m going to pack my bags when I graduate and say, “Peace out, mothafuckas.”

But not Olga. Saint Olga, the perfect Mexican daughter. Sometimes I wanted to scream at her until something switched on in her brain. But the only time I ever asked her why she didn’t move out or go to a real college, she told me to leave her alone in a voice so weak and brittle, I never wanted to ask her again. Now I’ll never know what Olga would have become. Maybe she would have surprised us all.

Here I am, thinking all of these horrible thoughts about my dead sister. It’s easier to be pissed, though. If I stop being angry, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart until I’m just a warm mound of flesh on the floor.

While I stare at my chewed-up nails and sink deeper into this floppy green couch, I hear Amá wailing. She really throws her body into it, too. “Mija, mija!” she screams as she practically climbs inside the casket. Apá doesn’t even try to pull her off. I can’t blame him, because when he tried to calm her down a few hours ago, Amá kicked and flailed her arms until she gave him a black eye. I guess he’s going to leave her alone for now. She’ll tire herself out eventually. I’ve seen babies do that.

Apá has been sitting in the back of the room all day, refusing to speak to anyone, staring off into nothing, like he always does. Sometimes I think I see his dark mustache quivering, but his eyes stay dry and clear as glass.

I want to hug Amá and tell her it’s going to be okay, even though it’s not and never will be, but I feel almost paralyzed, like I’m underwater and made of lead. When I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Besides, Amá and I haven’t had that kind of relationship since I was little. We don’t hug and say, “I love you,” like on TV shows about boring white families who live in two-story houses and talk about their feelings. She and Olga were practically best friends, and I was the odd daughter out. We’ve been bickering, drifting away from each other for years. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid Amá because we always end up arguing over stupid, petty things. We once fought about an egg yolk, for instance. True story.

Apá and I are the only ones in my family who haven’t cried. He just hangs his head and remains silent as a stone. Maybe something is wrong with us. Maybe we’re messed up beyond crying. Though my eyes haven’t produced tears, I’ve felt the grief burrow in every cell of my body. There are moments that I feel like I might suffocate, as if all my insides are tied into a tight little ball. I haven’t taken a crap in almost four days, but I’m not about to tell Amá in the state she’s in. I’ll just let it build until I explode like a piñata.

Amá has always been prettier than Olga, even now, with her swollen eyes and splotchy skin, which is not the way it’s supposed to be. Her name is more graceful, too—Amparo Montenegro Reyes. Mothers are not supposed to be more beautiful than their daughters, and daughters are not supposed to die before their mothers. But Amá is more attractive than most people. She hardly has any wrinkles and has these big, round eyes that always look sad and wounded. Her long hair is thick and dark, and her body is still slim, unlike the other moms in the neighborhood who are shaped like upside-down pears. Every time I walk down the street with Amá, guys whistle and honk, which makes me wish I carried a slingshot.

Amá is rubbing Olga’s face and crying softly now. This won’t last, though. She’s always quiet for a few minutes, then, all of a sudden, lets out a moan that makes your soul turn inside out. Now Tía Cuca is rubbing her back and telling her that Olga is with Jesus, that she can finally be in peace.

\"},{\"id\":\"124195796T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

\"},{\"id\":\"53007260T\",\"type\":\"Excerpt\",\"linkText\":\"Read an Excerpt\",\"typeId\":\"1005\",\"abbr\":\"EXC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"5\",\"text\":\"What’s surprised me most about seeing my sister dead is the lingering smirk on her face. Her pale lips are turned up ever so slightly, and someone has filled in her patchy eyebrows with a black pencil. The top half of her face is angry—like she’s ready to stab someone—and the bottom half is almost smug. This is not the Olga I knew. Olga was as meek and fragile as a baby bird.

I wanted her to wear the pretty purple dress that didn’t hide her body like all of her other outfits, but Amá chose the bright yellow one with the pink flowers I’ve always hated. It was so unstylish, so classically Olga. It made her either four or eighty years old. I could never decide which. Her hair is just as bad as the dress—tight, crunchy curls that remind me of a rich lady’s poodle. How cruel to let her look like that. The bruises and gashes on her cheeks are masked with thick coats of cheap foundation, making her face haggard, even though she is (was) only twenty-two. Don’t they pump your body full of strange chemicals to prevent your skin from stretching and puckering, to keep your face from resembling a rubber mask? Where did they find this mortician, the flea market?

My poor older sister had a special talent for making herself less attractive. She was skinny and had an okay body, but she always managed to make it look like a sack of potatoes. Her face was pale and plain, never a single drop of makeup. What a waste. I’m no fashion icon—far from it—but I do feel strongly against dressing like the elderly. Now she’s doing it from beyond the grave, but this time it’s not even her fault.

Olga never looked or acted like a normal twenty-two-year-old. It made me mad sometimes. Here she was, a grown-ass woman, and all she did was go to work, sit at home with our parents, and take one class each semester at the local community college. Every once and a while, she’d go shopping with Amá or to the movies with her best friend, Angie, to watch terrible romantic comedies about clumsy but adorable blond women who fall in love with architects in the streets of New York City. What kind of life is that? Didn’t she want more? Didn’t she ever want to go out and grab the world by the balls? Ever since I could pick up a pen, I’ve wanted to be a famous writer. I want to be so successful that people stop me on the street and ask, “Oh my God, are you Julia Reyes, the best writer who has ever graced this earth?” All I know is that I’m going to pack my bags when I graduate and say, “Peace out, mothafuckas.”

But not Olga. Saint Olga, the perfect Mexican daughter. Sometimes I wanted to scream at her until something switched on in her brain. But the only time I ever asked her why she didn’t move out or go to a real college, she told me to leave her alone in a voice so weak and brittle, I never wanted to ask her again. Now I’ll never know what Olga would have become. Maybe she would have surprised us all.

Here I am, thinking all of these horrible thoughts about my dead sister. It’s easier to be pissed, though. If I stop being angry, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart until I’m just a warm mound of flesh on the floor.

While I stare at my chewed-up nails and sink deeper into this floppy green couch, I hear Amá wailing. She really throws her body into it, too. “Mija, mija!” she screams as she practically climbs inside the casket. Apá doesn’t even try to pull her off. I can’t blame him, because when he tried to calm her down a few hours ago, Amá kicked and flailed her arms until she gave him a black eye. I guess he’s going to leave her alone for now. She’ll tire herself out eventually. I’ve seen babies do that.

Apá has been sitting in the back of the room all day, refusing to speak to anyone, staring off into nothing, like he always does. Sometimes I think I see his dark mustache quivering, but his eyes stay dry and clear as glass.

I want to hug Amá and tell her it’s going to be okay, even though it’s not and never will be, but I feel almost paralyzed, like I’m underwater and made of lead. When I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Besides, Amá and I haven’t had that kind of relationship since I was little. We don’t hug and say, “I love you,” like on TV shows about boring white families who live in two-story houses and talk about their feelings. She and Olga were practically best friends, and I was the odd daughter out. We’ve been bickering, drifting away from each other for years. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid Amá because we always end up arguing over stupid, petty things. We once fought about an egg yolk, for instance. True story.

Apá and I are the only ones in my family who haven’t cried. He just hangs his head and remains silent as a stone. Maybe something is wrong with us. Maybe we’re messed up beyond crying. Though my eyes haven’t produced tears, I’ve felt the grief burrow in every cell of my body. There are moments that I feel like I might suffocate, as if all my insides are tied into a tight little ball. I haven’t taken a crap in almost four days, but I’m not about to tell Amá in the state she’s in. I’ll just let it build until I explode like a piñata.

Amá has always been prettier than Olga, even now, with her swollen eyes and splotchy skin, which is not the way it’s supposed to be. Her name is more graceful, too—Amparo Montenegro Reyes. Mothers are not supposed to be more beautiful than their daughters, and daughters are not supposed to die before their mothers. But Amá is more attractive than most people. She hardly has any wrinkles and has these big, round eyes that always look sad and wounded. Her long hair is thick and dark, and her body is still slim, unlike the other moms in the neighborhood who are shaped like upside-down pears. Every time I walk down the street with Amá, guys whistle and honk, which makes me wish I carried a slingshot.

Amá is rubbing Olga’s face and crying softly now. This won’t last, though. She’s always quiet for a few minutes, then, all of a sudden, lets out a moan that makes your soul turn inside out. Now Tía Cuca is rubbing her back and telling her that Olga is with Jesus, that she can finally be in peace.

\"},{\"id\":\"124195799T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"From the Publisher\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"“I fell in love with Erika L. Sánchez’ stunning novel....The depth, wit and searing intelligence of her writing, and her young Latina heroine, struck me to my core and left me wanting so much more.\\\" --America Ferrera, Emmy award-winning actress in Ugly Betty

“This book will change everything. . . . A perfect book about imperfection.” —Juan Felipe Herrera, Poet Laureate of the United States

“Unique and fresh.” —Entertainment Weekly

“A standout.” —NPR

“A wonderfully complex and interesting character.” —Los Angeles Review of Books

“Blistering. Julia’s persona rockets off the page and into your face from the get-go.” —Christian Science Monitor

“If you ever wanted to [understand] the harsh truths of immigrant life, this is the book you need to read.” —Bustle

“As poignant as it is incisive.” —AV Club

“An earnest and heartfelt tale.” —Booklist

“A timely and must-have account of survival in a culturally contested world.” —SLJ, Starred

“Beautifully written.” —Shelf Awareness, starred review

\\\"Ultimately, it’s Julia herself who’s the key to the novel... She’ll resonate with many readers, and they’ll be glad to see her make it through a tough time.\\\" —The Bulletin, starred review\"},{\"id\":\"124195798T\",\"type\":\"Award Note\",\"linkText\":\"Award Note\",\"typeId\":\"1036\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"2017 National Book Award for Young People's Literature, Short-listed
2017 Tomas Rivera Mexican American Children's Book Award, Winner
\"},{\"id\":\"53959507T\",\"type\":\"Review\",\"linkText\":\"From The Critics\",\"typeId\":\"1002\",\"abbr\":\"REV\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"255\",\"authorName\":\"Catherine Hong\",\"sourceName\":\"The New York Times Book Review\",\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"This gripping debut about a Mexican-American misfit is alive and crackling—a gritty tale wrapped in a page-turner…Part detective story, part coming-of-age tale, Sánchez's novel doesn't shy from heavy subject matter…The story spirals into dark territory when Julia begins to suffer from clinical depression. But she's so blunt, funny and brave that she never becomes an object of our pity. And her moments of joy…are transcendent.\"},{\"id\":\"92608435T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter is a gripping portrayal of a contemporary Mexican American teenager who is caught between the cultural expectations of her traditional family and her desire to forge her own path. Erika L. Sanchez has crafted a contemporary story with a mystery element that readers will not soon put down.

\"},{\"id\":\"78416084T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter is a gripping portrayal of a contemporary Mexican American teenager who is caught between the cultural expectations of her traditional family and her desire to forge her own path. After the death of her seemingly perfect older sister, Julia is left to pick up the pieces and discovers that her sister may not have been as perfect as she seemed. Erika L. Sanchez has crafted a contemporary story with a mystery element that readers will not soon put down.

\"},{\"id\":\"86957055T\",\"type\":\"Bookseller Content\",\"linkText\":\"B&N Says\",\"typeId\":\"1027\",\"abbr\":\"BSC\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Notes From Your Bookseller

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter is a gripping portrayal of a contemporary Mexican American teenager who is caught between the cultural expectations of her traditional family and her desire to forge her own path. After the death of her seemingly perfect older sister, Julia is left to pick up the pieces and discovers that her sister may not have been as perfect as she seemed. Erika L. Sanchez has crafted a contemporary story with a mystery element that readers will not soon put down.

\"},{\"id\":\"125750473T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"1\",\"text\":\"

Erika L. Sánchez is a poet, a feminist, and a cheerleader for young women everywhere. She was the sex and love advice columnist for Cosmopolitan for Latinas for three years, and her writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, Salon, and the Paris Review. Since she was a twelve-year-old nerd in giant bifocals and embroidered vests, Erika has dreamed of writing complex, empowering stories about girls of color—what she wanted to read as a young adult. She lives in Chicago, not far from the setting of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter. Erika is fluent in Spanish, Spanglish, and cat. You can find out more about her at erikalsanchez.com or by following @ErikaLSanchez on Twitter.

\"},{\"id\":\"68546082T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":\"PAPERBACK COMMENTARY\",\"displayOrder\":\"2\",\"text\":\"Erika L. Sánchez is a poet, a feminist, and a cheerleader for young women everywhere. She was the sex and love advice columnist for Cosmopolitan for Latinas for three years, and her writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, Salon, and the Paris Review. Since she was a twelve-year-old nerd in giant bifocals and embroidered vests, Erika has dreamed of writing complex, empowering stories about girls of color—what she wanted to read as a young adult. She lives in Chicago, not far from the setting of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter. Erika is fluent in Spanish, Spanglish, and cat. You can find out more about her at erikalsanchez.com or by following @ErikaLSanchez on Twitter.\"},{\"id\":\"102837162T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"3\",\"text\":\"Erika L. Sánchez is a poet, a feminist, and a cheerleader for young women everywhere. She was the sex and love advice columnist for Cosmopolitan for Latinas for three years, and her writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, Salon, and the Paris Review. Since she was a twelve-year-old nerd in giant bifocals and embroidered vests, Erika has dreamed of writing complex, empowering stories about girls of color--what she wanted to read as a young adult. She lives in Chicago, not far from the setting of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter. Erika is fluent in Spanish, Spanglish, and cat. You can find out more about her at erikalsanchez.com or by following @ErikaLSanchez on Twitter.\"},{\"id\":\"124195800T\",\"type\":\"Fatbrain Author Description\",\"linkText\":\"Author Description\",\"typeId\":\"1102\",\"abbr\":\"FBA\",\"maxToDisplay\":\"1\",\"authorName\":null,\"sourceName\":null,\"displayOrder\":\"4\",\"text\":\"

Erika L. Sánchez is a poet, a feminist, and a cheerleader for young women everywhere. She was the sex and love advice columnist for Cosmopolitan for Latinas for three years, and her writing has appeared in the Rolling Stone, Salon, and the Paris Review. Since she was a 12-year-old nerd in giant bifocals and embroidered vests, Erika has dreamed of writing complex, empowering stories about girls of color—what she wanted to read as a young adult. She lives in Chicago, not far from the setting of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter. Erika is fluent in Spanish, Spanglish, and cat. You can find out more about her at erikalsanchez.com or @erikalsanchez.

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