Britt-Marie Was Here: A Novel

Review "Warm and satisfying." ― People “Backman has written another bestseller with his latest novel. While at first Britt-Marie seems intolerable and aggravating, readers are quickly endeared to her obsessive-compulsive ways and frank honesty. At first the writing style comes off sharp; however, readers quickly see that is how Britt-Marie processes the world and it too becomes something amicable. Heartfelt and truly stirring, Britt-Marie Was Here resonates long after the last page is read.” ― RT Magazine “The bestselling author of A MAN CALLED OVE returns with this heartwarming story about a woman rediscovering herself after personal crisis. Backman reveals Britt-Marie’s need for order….with clear, tight descriptions. Insightful and touching, this is a sweet and inspiring story about truth and transformation. Fans of Backman’s will find another winner in these pages.” ― Publishers Weekly "Universal...Backman hits a nice note between overly sweet and hard-boiled fiction; excellent for book clubs." ― Library Journal (starred review) "Britt-Marie’s metamorphosis from cocoon to butterfly seems all the more remarkable for the utterly discouraging environment in which it takes place." ― Booklist “A brilliant mix of belly-laughs, profound insight and captivating events delivered… with Backman's pitch-perfect dialogue and an unparalleled understanding of human nature." ― Shelf Awareness PRAISE FOR A MAN CALLED OVE “A charming debut…You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel new sympathy for the curmudgeons in your life. You’ll also want to move to Scandinavia, where everything’s cuter.” ― People “Even the most serious reader of fiction needs light relief, and for that afternoon when all you want is charm, this is the perfect book." ― San Francisco Chronicle "A light hearted, deeply moving novel about a grumpy but loveable curmudgeon who finds his solitary world turned on its head when a boisterous young family moves in next door. This quirky debut is a thoughtful and charming exploration of the impact one life has on countless others—and an absolute delight." ― CBS Local "An inspiring affirmation of love for life and acceptance of people for their essence and individual quirks. A Man Called Ove is a perfect selection for book clubs. It's well written and replete with universal concerns. It lacks violence and profanity, is life-affirming and relationship-driven. The book is bittersweet, tender, often wickedly humorous and almost certain to elicit tears. I contentedly wept my way through a box of tissues when I first read the novel and again when I savored it for a second time.” ― BookBrowse.com " A Man Called Ove is exquisite. The lyrical language is the confetti thrown liberally throughout this celebration-of-life story, adding sparkle and color to an already spectacular party. Backman's characters feel so authentic that readers will likely find analogues living in their own neighborhoods." ― Shelf Awareness (starred review) "Readers seeking feel-good tales with a message will rave about the rantings of this solitary old man with a singular outlook. If there was an award for 'Most Charming Book of the Year,' this first novel by a Swedish blogger-turned-overnight-sensation would win hands down." ― Booklist, Starred Review “A funny crowd-pleaser that serves up laughs to accompany a thoughtful reflection on loss and love… The author writes with winning charm.” ― Publishers Weekly, starred review “This charming debut novel by Backman should find a ready audience with English-language readers… hysterically funny… wry descriptions, excellent pacing… In the contest of Most Winning Combination, it would be hard to beat grumpy Ove and his hidden,generous heart.” ― Kirkus Reviews PRAISE FOR MY GRANDMOTHER ASKED ME TO TELL YOU SHE'S SORRY “[…] Believable and fanciful. Backman’s smooth storytelling infuses his characters with charm and wit. . . Engaging. . . A delightful story.” ― St. Louis Post-Dispatch “Every bit as churlish but lovable as Backman’s cantankerous protagonist in his debut, A Man Called Ove (2014), precocious Elsa will easily work her way into the hearts of readers who like characters with spunk to spare. A delectable homage to the power of stories to comfort and heal, Backman’s tender tale of the touching relationship between a grandmother and granddaughter is a tribute to the everlasting bonds of deep family ties. ” ― Booklist (starred) “Firmly in league with Roald Dahl and Neil Gaiman. A touching, sometimes funny, often wise portrait of grief.” ― Kirkus Reviews "In his second offering, Backman ( A Man Called Ove ) continues to write with the same whimsical charm and warm heart as in his debut." ― Publishers Weekly "An eclectic cast of characters, fairy-tale wisdom, and a little mystery… one of our favorite novels of the year so far." ― SFGate.com About the Author Fredrik Backman is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Man Called Ove , My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry , Britt-Marie Was Here , Beartown , Us Against You , and Anxious People , as well as two novellas and one work of nonfiction. His books are published in more than forty countries. He lives in Stockholm, Sweden, with his wife and two children. Connect with him on Facebook and Twitter @BackmanLand and on Instagram @Backmansk.

The Alice Network: A Reese's Book Club Pick

Review “ The Alice Network has history, suspense, romance and women kicking butt. I couldn’t put it down.” — NPR Books “This fast-paced story offers courageous heroines, villains you love to hate, and dramatic life-or-death stakes. A compelling blend of historical fiction, mystery, and women’s fiction, Quinn’s complex story and engaging characters have something to offer just about everyone.”  — Library Journal (starred review) “Amazing historical fiction... a must read!” — Historical Novel Society “Kate Quinn announces herself as one of the best artists of the genre. The plotting is seamless, the pace breathtaking, and the prose is both vivid and laced with just the right amount of details. Fans of historical fiction, spy fiction and thrilling drama will love every moment.” — BookPage “Lovingly crafted and brimming with details, readers are sure to be held in Quinn’s grip watching as the characters evolve. Powerful reading you can’t put down!” — RT Book Reviews (top pick) “Kate Quinn delivers an enthralling tale filled with breath-taking narrative that will make the reader feel as if they’re in the back of the roadster, riding along with the raucous Eve and courageous Charlie on their clandestine adventures. Suspenseful and engrossing, THE ALICE NETWORK is a must-read!” — Heather Webb, Author of Rodin's Lover “Kate Quinn strums the chords of every human emotion with two storylines that race over continents and through decades to converge in one explosive ending.” — Marci Jefferson, author of Enchantress of Paris “The Alice Network... perfectly balances a propulsive plot, faultlessly observed period detail, and a cast of characters so vividly drawn that I half expected to blink and see them standing in front of me. This is historical fiction at its best--thrilling, affecting, revelatory.” — Jennifer Robson, international bestselling author of Moonlight Over Paris “Both funny and heartbreaking, this epic journey of two courageous women is an unforgettable tale of little-known wartime glory and sacrifice. Quinn knocks it out of the park with this spectacular book!” — Stephanie Dray, author of America's First Daughter “A powerful story filled with daring and intrigue, The Alice Network will hook readers from the first page and take them on an unforgettable journey.” — Chanel Cleeton, author of Next Year in Havana “Line for line, one of the best books I’ve read in a long time. Loyal and brave, the women of THE ALICE NETWORK are brilliantly revealed by Kate Quinn’s exquisite storytelling and prose. I loved every word! A must read for fans of WWI and WWII fiction.” — Renee Rosen, author of Windy City Blues “In The Alice Network , the lives of two indomitable women intertwine in a plot crackling with suspense. We root for Charlie and Eve, and cheer when they triumph.” — NPR.org From the Back Cover 1947 . In the chaotic aftermath of World War II, American college girl Charlie St. Clair is pregnant, unmarried, and on the verge of being thrown out of her very proper family. She’s also nursing a desperate hope that her beloved cousin Rose, who disappeared in Nazi-occupied France during the war, might still be alive. So when Charlie’s parents banish her to Europe to have her “little problem” taken care of, Charlie breaks free and heads to London, determined to find out what happened to the cousin she loves like a sister. 1915 . A year into the Great War, Eve Gardiner burns to join the fight against the Germans and unexpectedly gets her chance when she’s recruited to work as a spy. Sent into enemy-occupied France, she’s trained by the mesmerizing Lili, code name Alice, the “queen of spies,” who manages a vast network of secret agents right under the enemy’s nose. Thirty years later, haunted by the betrayal that ultimately tore apart the Alice Network, Eve spends her days drunk and secluded in her crumbling London house. That is until a young American barges in uttering a name Eve hasn’t heard in decades, and launches them both on a mission to find the truth . . . no matter where it leads. About the Author Kate Quinn is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of historical fiction. A native of Southern California, she attended Boston University, where she earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in classical voice. A lifelong history buff, she has written four novels in the Empress of Rome Saga and two books set in the Italian Renaissance before turning to the 20th century with The Alice Network, The Huntress , and The Rose Code . All have been translated into multiple languages. She and her husband now live in California with three black rescue dogs. Read more

The Whole Town's Talking: A Novel

Review “[A] witty multigenerational saga . . . [Fannie] Flagg’s down-home wisdom, her affable humor and her long view of life offer a pleasant respite in nerve-jangling times.” — People “ The Whole Town’s Talking [is] Fannie Flagg at her best.” — Florida Times Union “If there’s one thing Fannie Flagg can do better than anybody else, it’s tell a story, and she outdoes herself in The Whole Town’s Talking . . . . Another brilliant novel—equally on the level as her famous Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe .” — The Newport Plain Talk “Told with warmth, humor and remarkable characters, this touching novel is a tribute to the indomitable spirit of love.” — The Columbus Dispatch “Delightful.” —The Washington Post “I could not put this book down and didn’t want the tale to end. Fannie Flagg does it again; a great read you won’t want to miss.” — The Missourian “It’s a sweeping, cinematic approach. . . . Flagg’s gentle storytelling makes the novel an easy, comfortable read that will leave a reader thinking about life, love and loss” —Minneapolis Star Tribune “[Fannie Flagg] creates a world familiar in its reality and its hopes, and she displays her storytelling skills, ones that are enhanced by her humanity, her optimism and her big heart. . . . The Whole Town’s Talking [is] a story of life’s peaks, valleys and ordinary days—and a ringing affirmation of love, community and life itself.” — Richmond Times-Dispatch “ The Whole Town’s Talking is warm and inviting. Flagg’s Elmwood Springs novels are comfort reads of the best kind, warm and engaging without flash or fuss.” — Miami Herald “Flagg’s humor shines through as she chronicles their successes, disappointments, and even a mysterious murder or two. . . . The interwoven lives of these completely engaging characters twist and turn in unexpected ways, making this chronicle of a close-knit community a pleasure to read.” — BookPage “[A] charming tale.” — Booklist Praise for Fannie Flagg “A born storyteller.” —The New York Times Book Review About the Author Fannie Flagg ’s career started in the fifth grade when she wrote, directed, and starred in her first play, titled The Whoopee Girls, and she has not stopped since. At age nineteen she began writing and producing television specials, and later wrote for and appeared on Candid Camera . She then went on to distinguish herself as an actress and a writer in television, films, and the theater. She is the bestselling author of Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man; Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe; Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!; Standing in the Rainbow; A Redbird Christmas; Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven; I Still Dream About You; The All-Girl Filling Station’s Last Reunion; and The Whole Town’s Talking . Flagg’s script for the movie Fried Green Tomatoes was nominated for an Academy Award and the Writers Guild of America Award and won the highly regarded Scripter Award for best screenplay of the year. Fannie Flagg is the winner of the Harper Lee Prize. She lives happily in California and Alabama. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Lordor Nordstrom1889Missouri, USAAt age twenty-eight, Lordor Nordstrom had left his home in Sweden for America, looking for land to buy. Months later, while crossing down through southern Missouri, he found a large tract of good, rich land with plenty of natural springs, just right for a dairy farm. After he had cleared an area for his farm, he placed an ad in the Swedish-American newspapers for young farmers to come and start a new community and soon others joined him, bringing their families and farm animals with them. By 1880, a small farming community had formed that other people in the area called Swede Town, in spite of the fact that two Germans and one Norwegian (who was suspected of being Finnish) now lived there.Today, Lordor Nordstrom stood on the top of a small hill looking over the long expanse of rolling green meadows and little white farmhouses below. It was so quiet and peaceful up here, nothing but the sound of birds and distant cowbells. He could see there was a most pleasant view from every angle. Exactly what he had been looking for.He would donate this land to the community and name it Still Meadows. Walking back down the hill, Lordor felt very pleased with himself. As the original settler, he felt a great responsibility to the settlers who had come after him. And he had just found the perfect spot for their final resting place in the upcoming years.In the following weeks, Lordor and all the local men cleared the land on the hill and began measuring and blocking out rows of burial plots. Each plot was given a number, written in both Swedish and English, so there would be no confusion. They built a nice wooden arch as an entrance that was carved with flowers and read still meadows cemetery, estab. 1889.After all the landscaping was complete, Lordor called a meeting out at his farm, and announced that since they were all first settlers, their plots would be free, first come, first served, which seemed to Lordor the only fair way to do it. In the future, any newcomers would be charged fifty cents a plot.The following Sunday, all the families packed up their wagons and went up the hill to stake their claim with small sticks. Some, like the Swensens, who hoped to start a large family, staked out an entire row of twenty or more plots to provide for the ones already here and those yet to come.Birdie Swensen was very happy with their choice. She was quite musical and liked hearing the birds and cowbells in the distance. She liked the view as well. She said to her husband, “Look, Lars, you can see our farm and the windmill from here. It will be so nice for the children when they come to visit.” Mr. and Mrs. Henry Knott wanted to look back at the cornfields.Although the flat area on the top of the hill was rather large, and they could have spread around, most people are creatures of habit. They all tended to pick out spots right next to their neighbors, much as they lived below, Lordor in the middle, under the big oak tree, and everyone else around him. Everybody, that is, except Old Man Hendersen, who marched way over to the other side and stuck his stick there. Someone once said that Eustus Hendersen liked his mules better than he did people, and he had agreed.“Mules are mean, but at least they don’t talk your head off when you see them.”Later, after everyone had chosen a plot, they sat down for a picnic lunch. Blueberries were in season, so the ladies had made pies. Mr. Lindquist played his fiddle, and Mrs. Knott played her accordion. All in all, it was a fun afternoon.Of course, at the time, none of them knew about all the strange and mysterious events that would take place on that hill. And even if you had told them, they wouldn’t have believed you in a million years.Love and MarriageLordor guessed that preparing a place to spend eternity and trying to figure out how many plots to set aside for himself was what made him think about his future. At the ripe old age of thirty-seven, he was still one of the many bachelor farmers living in the area. He hadn’t meant to be. He’d just been busy trying to turn a no place into a someplace. There were five married ladies, who were always at him to find a nice woman and settle down, but finding a wife was not an easy thing to do.Lordor wasn’t against the idea. A few years earlier, and at their insistence, he had tried to meet someone. That spring, he’d had his hair cut by a real barber, purchased a brand-new pair of shoes out of a catalog, and traveled all the way over to the Swedish community of Lindsborg, Kansas. But when he got there, he found out that all the good women were already taken. So Lordor had come back home empty-handed with nothing but the same new shoes and a good haircut.Swede Town really was in dire need of more women. As it stood now, they couldn’t even throw a decent square dance. When they did, all the men had to take turns wearing a white handkerchief tied around their arms to signify that they were now assuming the role of a female partner. And having to dance and hold hands with another grizzly, callused, hard-skinned farmer had a way of making the real women seem a lot more beautiful, softer, and much more delicate than they really were. Their lack of ladies was causing them to lose good workers as well. After dancing with five-foot-tall, three-feet-wide Nancy Knott, one young farmhand later told Lordor, “When Mrs. Knott starts to look good to you, it’s time to move on.” And he did.Lordor figured if he was ever going to make another attempt at finding a nice lady, the time was now. He had a new contract to sell milk and cheese to the railroad workers, and his financial future was now secure enough to support a wife. Besides, he was lonely. He wanted someone to share the new house he had just built. But courting a lady properly was a time-consuming proposition, and at present, he didn’t have enough of it. He was short on help, and his dairy farm required him to be there full-time.At the next barn raising, as everyone was sitting at a long wooden table having lunch, Lordor talked the situation over with his neighbors. Henry Knott, a bandy-legged little hog farmer seated down at the other end, called out, “Hey, Lordor . . . why don’t you advertise for one of them mail-order brides? That way, she comes to you, and no work time’s lost.”All the women jumped on that notion in a hurry. “Oh, Lordor,” said Mrs. Eggstrom, “that’s exactly what you should do.”Lordor pulled a skeptical face at the idea, but Mrs. Lindquist, waving a spoon at him, said, “I know what you’re thinking, Lordor, but there’s no shame to it. A lot of men out west are doing it, and there must be plenty of nice Swedish girls out there looking to marry.”“She’s right,” added Birdie Swensen, who had just placed another piece of fried chicken in front of him. “And if the girl is interested, she sends you her photograph. That way, we can all get a look at her and help you decide.”Lordor still felt reluctant. He was a little bit shy around women anyway, and the idea of marrying a total stranger made him feel uneasy. But in the end, Mrs. Knott summed it up for him. “You’re getting old, Lordor. Get to it!” He guessed it wouldn’t hurt anything to at least try. So a week later, a small ad appeared in a Swedish-American newspaper in Chicago.Swedish man of 37 years looking for Swedish lady for marriage.I have a house and cows.—Lordor Nordstrom Swede Town, MissouriA Swedish Lady1889ChicagoKatrina Olsen, only five years from Sweden, was a domestic servant in a large household in Chicago. She had been helping clean the kitchen that morning and had noticed Lordor’s ad in a newspaper. She carefully tore it out and put it in her apron pocket. That night, when she and her friend and coworker Anna Lee were upstairs in their room, Katrina showed her the ad.“Do you think I should answer it?”Anna Lee looked at the ad with some alarm. “Oh, Katrina . . . Missouri? We don’t even know where that is. There could be wild Indians or bears even. And this Lordor Nordstrom might be mean and ugly.”Katrina sighed. “I know, but I don’t want to be a servant all my life.”“No, me either, but I don’t see much difference in being a servant and being some old cow-farmer’s wife. Besides, it’s too much hard work with no pay. No, I’d rather stay in the city and take my chances with the boys here.”Being a pretty girl, Katrina had gone out with a few Chicago boys, friends of Anna Lee’s, but they’d been too slick and fast-talking for her taste. And, somehow, the idea of working hard on your own land did not seem that daunting to her. But what Anna Lee had said about bears and wild Indians was a real concern. When they had been learning English, they had read all the popular American dime novels, like Trapper Bess and Mountain Kate, that told of all the many perils women faced living out in the wilderness.But the more Katrina thought about the ad, the more it intrigued her. She knew going all the way to Missouri would be a risky venture. She could be eaten by a mountain lion or worse. But the ad said the man had a house. When she had left Sweden, she had made certain promises, and she desperately wanted to keep them. So it might be worth taking a chance, but she had waited so long to respond, she was sure Mr. Nordstrom had found someone by now. Still, she guessed it couldn’t hurt to write and see.Dear Sir,A 24-year-old Swedish lady of the Lutheran faith with skills of cooking, sewing, and gardening and a good nature is answering your advertisement. Enclosed is my photograph. If you are so inclined and not already taken, please send your photograph.Sincerely, Katrina OlsenIt had been weeks, and Lordor Nordstrom had not yet received one reply to his ad. A lot of girls had seen the ad, but most Swedish girls in Chicago were like Anna Lee. They had left farms in Sweden and had no desire to go back to one. Lordor had almost given up hope when Miss Olsen’s reply arrived.The VerdictThe day the letter arrived, Lordor brought Miss Olsen’s photograph over to the women as promised. They had all gathered in Mrs. Knott’s kitchen for the occasion. After Lordor handed it over, he was told to wait outside so they could speak freely.Lordor wandered out to the barn and had a smoke with Mr. Knott, who had also been banned from the kitchen. He had no more than finished his smoke when the kitchen door flew open and Mrs. Knott called out, “Lordor, come on in. . . . Henry, you stay out there. I’ll get your lunch in a minute.” Mr. Knott nodded. He hoped it would be sausage and potatoes today. His wife wasn’t much to look at, but oh, her steaming sauerkraut, her Wiener schnitzel, her piping-hot pot roast, creamed noodles, and apple dumplings.Lordor walked slowly up the stairs to receive his verdict. He took his hat off, stepped inside, and was told to have a seat while five ladies stared at him. He suddenly felt himself start to sweat under the pressure when Birdie Swensen, the gentlest of the five women, spoke.“Now, Lordor . . . a girl can be pretty and fool a man, but she can’t fool another woman. Yes, this girl is pretty, but for a wife, you want someone of good character as well.”Lordor cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose so.”“Trust us, you do. And so, after careful study, we all agree. This girl has character.” They all nodded as she continued. “We think you need to answer her letter right now, before somebody else grabs her.”Mrs. Lindquist jumped in. “Besides, she’s a Lutheran, Lordor. What else do you need to know?”Lordor was awfully glad to hear the ladies’ opinion. He cared very much about what they thought, but in this case, he hadn’t needed much prompting. The moment he had seen the girl’s photograph, he had been smitten. She was Swedish all right, with her blond braids arranged so neatly across her head and wearing her high-necked white lace blouse with a cameo. And she was very pretty. But it was something else that had captured his attention right away. It was a look in her eye that certain immigrants recognized in one another. A look of hope and determination, almost as if she was gazing past him, far into the future. The day the photograph had arrived, he’d stared at it for so long that when he closed his eyes that night, he could still see her face. He figured that must mean something, but he stopped himself from going too far. First, he needed to have his picture taken and give the girl a chance to get a good look at him.Oh, Lord. Just the thought of her seeing his photograph filled him with dread. Now he knew how that poor horse he’d just bought must have felt when he had examined every inch of him and looked at all of his teeth before putting his money down. Tomorrow, he was going to give that horse some extra hay as a way of an apology.Katrina OlsenNovember 1865v, SwedenThe baby had come much too early. A woman named Ingrid Olsen had just given birth beside a lake next to the potato field where she worked. She guessed, by the weight of the potatoes, that the baby girl weighed no more than five pounds. A friend helped Ingrid wrap her up in a torn burlap sack.Ingrid had already lost two babies, but if by some miracle this baby should live, she would name her Katrina. She knew that winter was coming. And with so little food and a house with such poor heat, she did not hold out much hope.Ingrid looked down at the squirming little five pounds of blue-eyed life she held in her arms and cried for the child’s future.In 1865, Sweden was a land with strict class divisions, with no middle ground. If you did not own land, you worked it for the ones who did, with no hope for a different future for you or your children. Read more

A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of the American Spy Who Helped Win World War II

Review Praise for A Woman of No Importance : "[An] excellent biography... if Virginia Hall herself remains something of an enigma — a testament, perhaps, to the skills that allowed her to live in the shadows for so long — the extraordinary facts of her life are brought onto the page here with a well-judged balance of empathy and fine detail. This book is as riveting as any thriller, and as hard to put down" -- The New York Times Book Review “[A] compelling saga of a remarkable woman whose persistence was honed early on by her battles against low gender expectations and later on by her disability.” – USA Today "A gripping take… a compelling biography of a masterful spy, and a reminder of what can be done with a few brave people — and a little resistance.” -- NPR.org “Never have I read anything like it. Every page is compelling and demands not just to be read, but absorbed. Every act reflects incredible bravery. This is what heroism looks like…Sonia Purnell has ensured Virginia Hall’s place in that great pantheon.” --FOX News "Electrifying" —Smithsonian.com “A fitting and moving tribute to an amazing woman.” – The Economist " Reads like a detailed novel… Purnell’s fascinating book supports her description of Hall’s life as a ‘Homeric tale of adventure, action, and seemingly unfathomable courage." — The Columbus Dispatch "Sonia Purnell has written a riveting account of Hall’s work as a ferociously courageous American spy… [she] writes with compelling energy and fine detail." — The Minneapolis Star-Tribune “Purnell’s writing is as precise and engaging as her research, and this book restores overdue attention to one of the world’s great war heroes. It’s a joy to read, and it will swell readers' hearts with pride.” — Booklist, Starred Review “A groundbreaking biography that reads like a spy thriller…a suspenseful, heartbreaking and ultimately triumphant tale of heroism and sacrifice.” —BookPage, Starred Review “Purnell vividly resurrects an underappreciated hero and delivers an enthralling story of wartime intrigue…fans of WWII history and women’s history will be riveted.” — Publishers Weekly “A remarkable chronicle...this lively examination…shows how, if Hall had been a man, dropping undercover in and out of occupied Vichy, Paris, and Lyon, setting up safe houses, and coordinating couriers for the Resistance, she would now be as famous as James Bond…Meticulous research results in a significant biography of a trailblazer who now has a CIA building named after her.” –Kirkus “Impressively researched and compellingly written, this brilliant biography puts Virginia Hall−and her prosthetic leg, Cuthbert−back where they belong : right in the heart of Resistance history.” —Clare Mulley, author of The Women Who Flew for Hitler: A True Story of Soaring Ambition and Searing Rivalry “In this astonishing, intriguing book, Sonia Purnell presents one of the most breathtaking stories yet told of female courage behind enemy lines. Its strength lies not only in Purnell’s intimate and moving portrayal of Virginia’s secret work, but also in the new light shed on the betrayal, bravery, and bungling of Churchill’s Special Operations Executive for which Virginia worked.” —Sarah Helm, author of Ravensbrück: Life and Death in Hitler’s Concentration Camp for Women “What a fascinating story! Sonia Purnell skillfully takes you deep into the covert operations Virginia Hall led in Nazi-occupied France. Readers will find this tale of her cunning and courage riveting.” —Douglas Waller, author of Wild Bill Donovan: The Spymaster Who Created the OSS and Modern American Espionage About the Author Sonia Purnell is a biographer and journalist who has worked at The Economist, The Telegraph , and The Sunday Times . Her book Clementine: The Life of Mrs. Winston Churchill (published as First Lady in the UK) was chosen as a book of the year by The Telegraph and The Independent , and was a finalist for the Plutarch Award. Her first book, Just Boris , was longlisted for the Orwell prize. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Prologue France was falling. Burned‑out cars, once strapped high with treasured possessions, were nosed crazily into ditches. Their beloved cargoes of dolls, clocks, and mirrors lay smashed around them and along mile upon mile of unfriendly road. Their owners, young and old, sprawled across the hot dust, were groaning or already silent. Yet the hordes just kept streaming past them, a never‑ending line of hunger and exhaustion too fearful to stop for days on end. Ten million women, children, and old men were on the move, all flee‑ ing Hitler’s tanks pouring across the border from the east and the north. Entire cities had uprooted themselves in a futile bid to escape the Nazi blitzkrieg that threatened to engulf them. The fevered talk was of German soldiers stripped to the waist in jubilation at the ease of their conquest. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of the dead. The babies had no milk, and the aged fell where they stood. The horses drawing overladen old farm carts sagged and snarled in their sweat‑drenched agony. The French heat wave of May 1940 was witness to this, the largest refugee exo‑ dus of all time. Day after day a solitary moving vehicle weaved its way through the crowd with a striking young woman at the wheel. Private Virginia Hall often ran low on fuel and medicines but still pressed on in her French army ambulance toward the advancing enemy. She persevered even when the German Stukas came screaming down to drop 110‑pound bombs onto the convoys all around her, torching the cars and cratering the roads. Even when fighter planes swept over the treetops to machine‑gun the ditches where women and children were trying to take cover from the carnage. Even though French soldiers were deserting their units, abandoning their weapons, and running away, some in their tanks. Even when her left hip was shot with pain from continually pressing down on the clutch with her prosthetic foot.Now, at the age of thirty‑four, her mission marked a turning point after years of cruel rejection. For her own sake as much as for the casualties she was picking up from the battlefields and ferrying to the hospital, she could not fail again. There were many reasons why she was willingly jeopardizing her life far from home in aid of a foreign country, when millions of others were giving up. Perhaps foremost among them was that it had been so long since she had felt so thrillingly alive. Disgusted at the cowardice of the deserters, she could not understand why they would not continue the fight. But then she had so little to lose. The French still remembered sacrificing a third of their young menfolk to the Great War, and a nation of widows and orphans was in no mood for more bloodshed. Virginia, though, in‑ tended to go on to the end, wherever the battle took her. She was prepared to take whatever risks, face down any dangers. Total war against the Third Reich might perversely offer her one last hope of personal peace.   Yet even this was as nothing compared with what was to come in a life that drew out into a Homeric tale of adventure, action, and seemingly unfathomable courage. Virginia Hall’s service in the France of summer 1940 was merely an apprenticeship for a near suicide mission against the tyranny of the Nazis and their puppets in France. She helped to pioneer a daredevil role of espionage, sabotage, and subversion behind enemy lines in an era when women barely featured in the prism of heroism, when their part in combat was confined to the supportive and palliative. When they were just expected to look nice and act obedient and let the men do the heavy lifting. When disabled women—or men—were confined to staying at home and leading often narrow, unsatisfying lives. The fact that a young woman who had lost her leg in tragic circumstances broke through the tightest constrictions and overcame prejudice and even hostility to help the Allies win the Second World War is astonishing. That a female guerrilla leader of her stature remains so little known to this day is incredible. Yet that is perhaps how Virginia would have wanted it. She operated in the shadows, and that was where she was happiest. Even to her closest allies in France, she seemed to have no home or family or regiment, merely a burning desire to defeat the Nazis. They knew neither her real name nor her nationality, nor how she had arrived in their midst. Constantly chang‑ ing in looks and demeanor, surfacing without notice across whole swaths of France only to disappear again as suddenly, she remained an enigma throughout the war and in some ways after it too. Even now, tracing her story has involved three solid years of detective work, taking me from the National Archives in London, the Resistance files in Lyon, and the parachute drop zones in the Haute‑Loire, to the judicial dossiers of Paris and even the white marble corridors of CIA headquarters at Langley. My search led me through nine levels of security clearance and into the heart of today’s world of American espionage. I have discussed the pressures of oper‑ ating in enemy territory with a former member of Britain’s Special Forces and ex‑intelligence officers from both sides of the Atlantic. I have tracked down files that were missing, and discovered that others remain mysteri‑ ously lost or unaccounted for. I have spent days drawing diagrams match‑ ing dozens of code names with scores of her missions; months hunting for remaining extracts of those strange “disappeared” papers; years digging out forgotten documents and memoirs. Of course, the best guerrilla leaders do not intend to keep future historians happy by keeping perfect records at five in the morning about their overnight missions, and those that do exist are often patchy or contradictory. Where possible, I have stuck to the version of events as told by the people closest to them. At times, however, it has been as if Virginia and I have been playing our own game of cat and mouse; as if from the grave she remains, as she used to put it, “unwilling to talk” about what she did. In her secret universe, when virtually the whole of Europe from the North Sea to the Russian frontier was under the Nazi heel, trust was an unaffordable luxury. Mystique was as vital as a concealable Colt pistol. And yet, in an era when the world again seems to be tilting toward division and extremism, her example of comradeship across borders in pursuit of a higher ideal stands out now more than ever. Nor have governments made it easy to fill in the gaps. Scores of relevant documents are still classified for another generation—although I managed to have a number released to me for this book with the invaluable aid of two former intelligence officers. Still more went up in flames in a devastating fire at the French National Archives in the 1970s, leaving an unfillable hole in the official accounts. Whole batches of papers at the National Ar‑ chives and Records Administration (NARA) in Washington, D.C., have apparently been mislaid or possibly misfiled, a handy list of them appar‑ ently overlooked in a move between two buildings. Only 15 percent of the original papers from Special Operations Executive—the British secret ser‑ vice that Virginia worked for from 1941 to 1944—survive. Yet for all these challenges and twists and turns down dark and hidden alleys, Virginia’s story has never once disappointed: in fact, it has repeatedly turned out to be more extraordinary, its characters more vivid, its significance greater than I could have imagined. She helped to change espionage and the views of women in warfare forever—and the course of the fighting in France. Virginia’s enemies were more deadly, her conduct more daring than many a Hollywood blockbuster fantasy. And yet the swashbuckling tale is true, and Virginia a real‑life hero who kept going even when all seemed lost. The pitiless universe of deception and intrigue that she inhabited might have inspired Ian Fleming to create James Bond, yet she came closer to being the ultimate spy. Eventually every bit as ruthless and wily as the fictional Commander Bond, she also understood the need to blend in and keep her distance from friend and foe alike. Where Bond was known by name to every international baddie, she slipped through her enemies unseen. Where Bond drove a flashy Aston Martin, she traveled by train or tram or, despite her disability, on foot. Where Fleming’s character seemed to rise seamlessly to the top, Virginia had to battle for every inch of recognition and authority. Her struggle made her the figure she became, one who survived, even thrived, in a clandestine life that broke many apparently far more suited to the job. No wonder today’s chief of the British intelligence agency MI6, has revealed that he searches for recruits who do not shout loud and show off but who have had to “fight to get on in life.” Virginia was a human being with the f laws, fears, and insecurities of the rest of us—perhaps even more—but they helped her understand her enemies. Only once did her instincts let her down, with catastrophic consequences. For the most part, though, she conquered her demons and won the trust, admiration, and ultimately the gratitude of thousands in the process. To meet Virginia was clearly never to forget her. Until the moment she retired in the 1960s from her postwar career in the CIA, she was a woman ahead of her time who has much to say to us now. Controversy still rages about women fighting alongside men on the front line, but nearly eight decades ago Virginia was already commanding men deep in enemy territory. She experienced six years of the European war in a way that very few other Americans did. She gambled again and again with her own life, not out of a fervent nationalism for her own country, but out of love and respect for the freedoms of another. She blew up bridges and tunnels, and tricked, traded, and, like 007, had a license to kill. What she pursued was a very modern form of warfare based on propa‑ ganda, deceit, and the formation of an enemy within—techniques now increasingly familiar to us all. But her goals were noble: she wanted to protect rather than destroy, to restore liberty rather than remove it. She neither pursued fame or glory nor was she really granted it. This is not a military account of the battle for France, nor an analysis of the shifting shapes of espionage or the evolving role of Special Forces, although, of course, they weave a rich and dramatic background to Virginia’s tale. This book is rather an attempt to reveal how one woman really did help turn the tide of history. How adversity and rejection and suffering can sometimes turn, in the end, into resolve and ultimately triumph, even against the backdrop of a horrifying conflict that casts its long shadow over the way we live today. How women can step out of the construct of conven‑ tional femininity to defy all the stereotypes, if only they are given the chance. And how the desperate urgencies of war can, perversely, open up opportunities that normal life tragically keeps closed. Of course, Virginia, who served in British and American secret services, did not work alone. The supporting cast of doctors, prostitutes, farm‑ ers’ wives, teachers, booksellers, and policemen have equally been forgotten but often paid dearly for their valor. Just as what they did for the cause was inspired in part by lofty romance and ideals, so also were they aware that failure or capture meant a lonely and grisly death. Some of the Third Reich’s most venal and terrifying figures were obsessed by Virginia and her networks and strove tirelessly to eliminate her and the whole movement she helped to create. But when the hour of France’s liberation came in 1944, the secret armies she equipped, trained, and sometimes directed defied expectations and helped bring about complete and final victory for the Allies. Even that, though, was not enough for her. Read more

Beach Read

Review “Once I started Beach Read I legit did not put it down.” — Betches One of... The New York Times Book Review's Summer Romance Reads Entertainment Weekly’s Hottest Summer Reads of 2020 Oprah Magazine's Best Beach Reads of Summer 2020 Betches’ 20 Books to Read in 2020 SheReads’ Most Anticipated Books of Summer 2020 Goodreads' Big Books of Spring Popsugar's 25 Exciting New Books Coming Out in May Bustle's Most Anticipated May Titles Shondaland's Five Books to Read in May TheSkimm's 11 Buzzy Books for Your Imaginary Beach Bag Good Morning America's 25 Novels You'll Want to Read this Summer The New York Post's Required Reading Good Housekeeping's 25 Best Beach Reads Huffington Post's Best Books to Read during QuarantineCNN's Perfect Summer ReadsLitHub's Ultimate Summer 2020 Reading List BookRiot's 6 Captivating New Books “Reader, I swooned! Beach Read is a breath of fresh air. My heart ached for January, and Gus is to die for—a steamy, smart and perceptive romance. I was engrossed!” —Josie Silver , #1 New York Times bestselling author of One Day in December “This is a touching and heartfelt book about love, betrayal, grief, failure, and learning how to love again. I adored going along on Gus and January’s journey, and I closed this book with a satisfied sigh.”— Jasmine Guillory , New York Times Bestselling Author of The Proposal “Beach Read is original, sparkling bright, and layered with feeling. Has trying to see the world through your long time crush/rival’s eyes ever been this potent and poignant? If whipcrack banter and foggy sexual tension is your catnip, you’ll adore this book.”— Sally Thorne , USA Today bestselling author of The Hating Game and 99 Percent Mine“Beach Read is exactly the witty, charming, and swoony novel we always want; it also happens to be the unexpected wallop of emotional wisdom and sly social commentary we need right now. I adored it.”— Julia Whelan , author of My Oxford Year “ [It] has everything the title promises—a romping plot, family secrets, and the thrill of falling in love, all set on the sweeping shores of eastern Lake Michigan. I cannot wait to read what Henry writes next.”— Amy E. Reichert , author The Coincidence of Coconut Cake and The Optimist’s Guide to Letting Go “Delightfully romantic and slyly poignant, Beach Read is brimming with crackling banter and engrossing prose. It has every flavor of booklover catnip: rivalry, creative struggle, family secrets, and the sweet head-over-heels tumble into love. Emily Henry's Beach Read is 2020's perfect anywhere read.”— Christina Lauren, New York Times bestselling author of The Unhoneymooners “If you liked Sally Thorne’s The Hating Game and Linda Holmes’s Evvie Drake Starts Over , you will definitely be into this, which feels like their spawn. (No one asked me to say this, by the way. I’m just high on that happy-sad feeling of finishing a book I enjoyed, that I wish wasn’t over.) Well played.”— Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan , bestselling authors of The Royal We “Readers are sure to fall hard for this meta, heartfelt take on the romance genre.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review) “A heartfelt look at taking second chances, in life and in love.” — Kirkus Reviews “This will still sweep readers off their feet. January’s first-person narration is suitably poetic and effervescent, the small-town beach setting is charming, and the romance is achingly swoony.” — Booklist “That Henry can manage to both pack a fierce emotional wallop and spear literary posturing in one go is a testament to her immense skill.” — Entertainment Weekly About the Author Emily Henry is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of People We Meet on Vacation and Beach Read . She studied creative writing at Hope College, and now spends most of her time in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the part of Kentucky just beneath it. Find her on Instagram @emilyhenrywrites. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 9781984806734|excerptHenry / BEACH READ1The HouseI have a fatal flaw.I like to think we all do. Or at least that makes it easier for me when I’m writing—building my heroines and heroes up around this one self-sabotaging trait, hinging everything that happens to them on a specific characteristic: the thing they learned to do to protect themselves and can’t let go of, even when it stops serving them.Maybe, for example, you didn’t have much control over your life as a kid. So, to avoid disappointment, you learned never to ask yourself what you truly wanted. And it worked for a long time. Only now, upon realizing you didn’t get what you didn’t know you wanted, you’re barreling down the highway in a midlife-crisis-mobile with a suitcase full of cash and a man named Stan in your trunk.Maybe your fatal flaw is that you don’t use turn signals.Or maybe, like me, you’re a hopeless romantic. You just can’t stop telling yourself the story. The one about your own life, complete with melodramatic soundtrack and golden light lancing through car windows.It started when I was twelve. My parents sat me down to tell me the news. Mom had gotten her first diagnosis—suspicious cells in her left breast—and she told me not to worry so many times I suspected I’d be grounded if she caught me at it. My mom was a do-er, a laugher, an optimist, not a worrier, but I could tell she was terrified, and so I was too, frozen on the couch, unsure how to say anything without making things worse.But then my bookish homebody of a father did something unexpected. He stood and grabbed our hands—one of Mom’s, one of mine—and said, You know what we need to get these bad feelings out? We need to dance!Our suburb had no clubs, just a mediocre steak house with a Friday night cover band, but Mom lit up like he’d just suggested taking a private jet to the Copacabana.She wore her buttery yellow dress and some hammered metal earrings that twinkled when she moved. Dad ordered twenty-year-old Scotch for them and a Shirley Temple for me, and the three of us twirled and bobbed until we were dizzy, laughing, tripping all over. We laughed until we could barely stand, and my famously reserved father sang along to “Brown Eyed Girl” like the whole room wasn’t watching us.And then, exhausted, we piled into the car and drove home through the quiet, Mom and Dad holding tight to each other’s hands between the seats, and I tipped my head against the car window and, watching the streetlights flicker across the glass, thought, It’s going to be okay. We will always be okay.And that was the moment I realized: when the world felt dark and scary, love could whisk you off to go dancing; laughter could take some of the pain away; beauty could punch holes in your fear. I decided then that my life would be full of all three. Not just for my own benefit, but for Mom’s, and for everyone else around me.There would be purpose. There would be beauty. There would be candlelight and Fleetwood Mac playing softly in the background.The point is, I started telling myself a beautiful story about my life, about fate and the way things work out, and by twenty-eight years old, my story was perfect.Perfect (cancer-free) parents who called several times a week, tipsy on wine or each other’s company. Perfect (spontaneous, multilingual, six foot three) boyfriend who worked in the ER and knew how to make coq au vin. Perfect shabby chic apartment in Queens. Perfect job writing romantic novels—inspired by perfect parents and perfect boyfriend—for Sandy Lowe Books.Perfect life.But it was just a story, and when one gaping plot hole appeared, the whole thing unraveled. That’s how stories work.Now, at twenty-nine, I was miserable, broke, semi-homeless, very single, and pulling up to a gorgeous lake house whose very existence nauseated me. Grandly romanticizing my life had stopped serving me, but my fatal flaw was still riding shotgun in my dinged-up Kia Soul, narrating things as they happened:January Andrews stared out the car window at the angry lake beating up on the dusky shore. She tried to convince herself that coming here hadn’t been a mistake.It was definitely a mistake, but I had no better option. You didn’t turn down free lodging when you were broke.I parked on the street and stared up at the oversized cottage’s facade, its gleaming windows and fairy tale of a porch, the shaggy beach grass dancing in the warm breeze.I checked the address in my GPS against the handwritten one hanging from the house key. This was it, all right.For a minute, I stalled, like maybe a world-ending asteroid would take me out before I was forced to go inside. Then I took a deep breath and got out, wrestling my overstuffed suitcase from the back seat along with the cardboard box full of gin handles.I pushed a fistful of dark hair out of my eyes to study the cornflower blue shingles and snow-white trim. Just pretend you’re at an Airbnb.Immediately, an imaginary Airbnb listing ran through my head: Three-bedroom, three-bath lakeside cottage brimming with charm and proof your father was an asshole and your life has been a lie.I started up the steps cut into the grassy hillside, blood rushing through my ears like fire hoses and legs wobbling, anticipating the moment the hellmouth would open and the world would drop out from under me.That already happened. Last year. And it didn’t kill you, so neither will this.On the porch, every sensation in my body heightened. The tingling in my face, the twist in my stomach, the sweat prickling along my neck. I balanced the box of gin against my hip and slipped the key into the lock, a part of me hoping it would jam. That all this would turn out to be an elaborate practical joke Dad had set up for us before he died.Or, better yet, he wasn’t actually dead. He’d jump out from behind the bushes and scream, “Gotcha! You didn’t really think I had a secret second life, did you? You couldn’t possibly think I had a second house with some woman other than your mother?”The key turned effortlessly. The door swung inward.The house was silent.An ache went through me. The same one I’d felt at least once a day since I got Mom’s call about the stroke and heard her sob those words. He’s gone, Janie.No Dad. Not here. Not anywhere. And then the second pain, the knife twisting: The father you knew never existed anyway.I’d never really had him. Just like I’d never really had my ex Jacques or his coq au vin.It was just a story I’d been telling myself. From now on, it was the ugly truth or nothing. I steeled myself and stepped inside.My first thought was that the ugly truth wasn’t super ugly. My dad’s love nest had an open floor plan: a living room that spilled into a funky, blue-tiled kitchen and homey breakfast nook, the wall of windows just beyond overlooking a dark-stained deck.If Mom had owned this place, everything would’ve been a mix of creamy, calming neutrals. The bohemian room I’d stepped into would’ve been more at home in Jacques’s and my old place than my parents’. I felt a little queasy imagining Dad here, among these things Mom never would’ve picked out: the folksy hand-painted breakfast table, the dark wooden bookshelves, the sunken couch covered in mismatched pillows.There was no sign of the version of him that I’d known.My phone rang in my pocket and I set the box on the granite countertop to answer the call.“Hello?” It came out weak and raspy.“How is it?” the voice on the other end said immediately. “Is there a sex dungeon?”“Shadi?” I guessed. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder as I unscrewed the cap from one of my gin bottles, taking a swig to fortify myself.“It honestly worries me that I’m the only person who might call you to ask that,” Shadi answered.“You’re the only person who even knows about the Love Shack,” I pointed out.“I am not the only one who knows about it,” Shadi argued.Technically true. While I’d found out about my father’s secret lake house at his funeral last year, Mom had been aware much longer. “Fine,” I said. “You’re the only person I told about it. Anyway, give me a second. I just got here.”“Literally?” Shadi was breathing hard, which meant she was walking to a shift at the restaurant. Since we kept such different hours, most of our calls happened when she was on her way into work.“Metaphorically,” I said. “Literally, I’ve been here for ten minutes, but I only just feel that I have arrived.”“So wise,” Shadi said. “So deep.”“Shh,” I said. “I’m taking it all in.”“Check for the sex dungeon!” Shadi hurried to say, as if I were hanging up on her.I was not. I was simply holding the phone to my ear, holding my breath, holding my racing heart in my chest, as I scanned my father’s second life.And there, just when I could convince myself Dad couldn’t possibly have spent time here, I spotted something framed on the wall. A clipping of a New York Times Best Sellers list from three years ago, the same one he’d positioned over the fireplace at home. There I was, at number fifteen, the bottom slot. And there, three slots above me—in a sick twist of fate—was my college rival, Gus (though now he went by Augustus, because Serious Man) and his highbrow debut novel The Revelatories. It had stayed on the list for five weeks (not that I was counting (I was absolutely counting)).“Well?” Shadi prompted. “What do you think?”I turned and my eyes caught on the mandala tapestry hanging over the couch.“I’m led to wonder if Dad smoked weed.” I spun toward the windows at the side of the house, which aligned almost perfectly with the neighbor’s, a design flaw Mom would never have overlooked when house shopping.But this wasn’t her house, and I could clearly see the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the neighbor’s study.“Oh, god—maybe it’s a grow house, not a love shack!” Shadi sounded delighted. “You should’ve read the letter, January. It’s all been a misunderstanding. Your dad’s leaving you the family business. That Woman was his business partner, not his mistress.”How bad was it that I wished she was right?Either way, I’d fully intended to read the letter. I’d just been waiting for the right time, hoping the worst of my anger would settle and those last words from Dad would be comforting. Instead, a full year had passed and the dread I felt at the thought of opening the envelope grew every day. It was so unfair, that he should get the last word and I’d have no way to reply. To scream or cry or demand more answers. Once I’d opened it, there’d be no going back. That would be it. The final goodbye.So until further notice, the letter was living a happy, if solitary, life in the bottom of the gin box I’d brought with me from Queens.“It’s not a grow house,” I told Shadi and slid open the back door to step onto the deck. “Unless the weed’s in the basement.”“No way,” Shadi argued. “That’s where the sex dungeon is.”“Let’s stop talking about my depressing life,” I said. “What’s new with you?”“You mean the Haunted Hat,” Shadi said. If only she had fewer than four roommates in her shoebox apartment in Chicago, then maybe I’d be staying with her now. Not that I was capable of getting anything done when I was with Shadi. And my financial situation was too dire not to get something done. I had to finish my next book in this rent-free hell. Then maybe I could afford my own Jacques-free place.“If the Haunted Hat is what you want to talk about,” I said, “then yes. Spill.”“Still hasn’t spoken to me.” Shadi sighed wistfully. “But I can, like, sense him looking at me when we’re both in the kitchen. Because we have a connection.”“Are you at all worried that your connection isn’t with the guy who’s wearing the antique porkpie hat, but perhaps with the ghost of the hat’s original owner? What will you do if you realize you’ve fallen in love with a ghost?”“Um.” Shadi thought for a minute. “I guess I’d have to update my Tinder bio.”A breeze rippled off the water at the bottom of the hill, ruffling my brown waves across my shoulders, and the setting sun shot golden spears of light over everything, so bright and hot I had to squint to see the wash of oranges and reds it cast across the beach. If this were just some house I’d rented, it would be the perfect place to write the adorable love story I’d been promising Sandy Lowe Books for months.Shadi, I realized, had been talking. More about the Haunted Hat. His name was Ricky, but we never called him that. We always spoke of Shadi’s love life in code. There was the older man who ran the amazing seafood restaurant (the Fish Lord), and then there was some guy we’d called Mark because he looked like some other, famous Mark, and now there was this new coworker, a bartender who wore a hat every day that Shadi loathed and yet could not resist.I snapped back into the conversation as Shadi was saying, “Fourth of July weekend? Can I visit then?”“That’s more than a month away.” I wanted to argue that I wouldn’t even be here by then, but I knew it wasn’t true. It would take me at least all summer to write a book, empty the house, and sell both, so I could (hopefully) be catapulted back into relative comfort. Not in New York, but somewhere less expensive.I imagined Duluth was affordable. Mom would never visit me there, but we hadn’t done much visiting this past year anyway, apart from my three-day trip home for Christmas. She’d dragged me to four yoga classes, three crowded juice bars, and a Nutcracker performance starring some kid I didn’t know, like if we were alone for even a second, the topic of Dad would arise and we’d burst into flames.All my life, my friends had been jealous of my relationship with her. How often and freely (or so I thought) we talked, how much fun we had together. Now our relationship was the world’s least competitive game of phone tag.I’d gone from having two loving parents and a live-in boyfriend to basically just having Shadi, my much-too-long-distance best friend. The one blessing of moving from New York to North Bear Shores, Michigan, was that I was closer to her place in Chicago.“Fourth of July’s too far off,” I complained. “You’re only three hours away.”“Yeah, and I don’t know how to drive.”“Then you should probably give that license back,” I said.“Believe me, I’m waiting for it to expire. I’m going to feel so free. I hate when people think I’m able to drive just because, legally, I am.”Shadi was a terrible driver. She screamed whenever she turned left.“Besides, you know how scheduling off is in the industry. I’m lucky my boss said I could have Fourth of July. For all I know, he’s expecting a blow job now.”“No way. Blow jobs are for major holidays. What you’ve got on your hands is a good old-fashioned foot job quid pro quo.”I took another sip of gin, then turned from the end of the deck and nearly yelped. On the deck ten feet to the right of mine, the back of a head of curly brown hair peeked over a lawn chair. I silently prayed the man was asleep—that I wouldn’t have to spend an entire summer next door to someone who’d heard me shout good old-fashioned foot job.As if he’d read my mind, he sat forward and grabbed the bottle of beer from his patio table, took a swig, and sat back.“So true. I won’t even have to take my Crocs off,” Shadi was saying. “Anyway, I just got to work. But let me know if it’s drugs or leather in the basement.”I turned my back to the neighbor’s deck. “I’m not going to check until you visit.”“Rude,” Shadi said.“Leverage,” I said. “Love you.”“Love you more,” she insisted and hung up.I turned to face the curly head, half waiting for him to acknowledge me, half debating whether I was obligated to introduce myself.I hadn’t known any of my neighbors in New York well, but this was Michigan, and from Dad’s stories about growing up in North Bear Shores, I fully expected to have to lend this man sugar at some point (note: must buy sugar).I cleared my throat and pasted on my attempt at a neighborly smile. The man sat forward for another swig of beer, and I called across the gap, “Sorry for disturbing you!”He waved one hand vaguely, then turned the page of whatever book was in his lap. “What’s disturbing about foot jobs as a form of currency?” he drawled in a husky, bored voice.I grimaced as I searched for a reply—any reply. Old January would have known what to say, but my mind was as blank as it was every time I opened Microsoft Word.Okay, so maybe I’d become a bit of a hermit this past year. Maybe I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d spent the last year doing, since it wasn’t visiting Mom and it wasn’t writing, and it wasn’t charming the socks off my neighbors.“Anyway,” I called, “I’m living here now.”As if he’d read my thoughts, he gave a disinterested wave and grumbled, “Let me know if you need any sugar.” But he managed to make it sound more like, Never speak to me again unless you notice my house is on fire, and even then, listen for sirens first.So much for Midwestern hospitality. At least in New York, our neighbors had brought us cookies when we moved in. (They’d been gluten-free and laced with LSD, but it was the thought that counted.)“Or if you need directions to the nearest Sexual Fetish Depot,” the Grump added.Heat flared through my cheeks, a flush of embarrassment and anger. The words were out before I could reconsider: “I’ll just wait for your car to pull out and follow.” He laughed, a surprised, rough sound, but still didn’t deign to face me.“Lovely to meet you,” I added sharply, and turned to hurry back through the sliding glass doors to the safety of the house, where I would quite possibly have to hide all summer.“Liar,” I heard him grumble before I snapped the door shut. Read more

Gospel Fictions

About the Author Randel Helms is a writer, professor, biblical scholar, and specialist in the works of William Blake and J.R.R. Tolkien. Helms was born in Alabama and was educated at the University of California Riverside. After leaving school, Helms began teaching at a number of universities around the United States. Many of his books are dedicated to debunking the Bible as fiction. He is the author of Gospel Fictions, Who Wrote the Gospels, and The Bible Against Itself.

From the Inside Flap The Ultimate Financial Plan From Jim Stovall, author of the bestselling The Ultimate Gift and The Ultimate Life , and financial planning expert, Tim Maurer, comes the latest volume in the acclaimed Ultimate series. Like its predecessors, The Ultimate Financial Plan: Balancing Your Money and Life is sure to have a significant impact on the way we think about money. Examining the connection between actions, thoughts, and feelings when it comes to all things financial, the book makes a revolutionary argument: that the key to getting the most out of personal wealth comes from the contentment found in balancing the influence of money in our lives with personal values and goals. Financial tools—like budgets, bank accounts, 401(k)s, IRAs, education savings plans, and real estate—can play a major role in helping us generate the money we want, but real value comes from investments in our knowledge and understanding, which lead to purpose-filled careers, sleep-at-night security, artistic endeavors, creative philanthropy, fulfilled retirements, and meaningful legacies. In The Ultimate Financial Plan , Jim Stovall uncovers the Timeless Truths of personal finance while Tim Maurer directs you through Timely Applications, making this book an invaluable investment in your future. From the Back Cover The Ultimate Financial Plan From Jim Stovall, author of the bestselling The Ultimate Gift and The Ultimate Life , and financial planning expert, Tim Maurer, comes the latest volume in the acclaimed Ultimate series. Like its predecessors, The Ultimate Financial Plan: Balancing Your Money and Life is sure to have a significant impact on the way we think about money. Examining the connection between actions, thoughts, and feelings when it comes to all things financial, the book makes a revolutionary argument: that the key to getting the most out of personal wealth comes from the contentment found in balancing the influence of money in our lives with personal values and goals. Financial toolslike budgets, bank accounts, 401(k)s, IRAs, education savings plans, and real estatecan play a major role in helping us generate the money we want, but real value comes from investments in our knowledge and understanding, which lead to purpose-filled careers, sleep-at-night security, artistic endeavors, creative philanthropy, fulfilled retirements, and meaningful legacies. In The Ultimate Financial Plan , Jim Stovall uncovers the Timeless Truths of personal finance while Tim Maurer directs you through Timely Applications, making this book an invaluable investment in your future. About the Author Jim Stovall is among today's most sought-after motivational speakers. The author of fifteen books, including the bestselling The Ultimate Gift and The Ultimate Life , both of which have been made into major motion pictures by 20th Century Fox, he has been a champion Olympic weightlifter, a successful investment broker, and an entrepreneur. He is the cofounder and President of the Emmy Awardwinning Narrative Television Network, which makes movies and television accessible for America's thirteen million blind and visually impaired people and their families. In June 2000, Stovall was selected as the International Humanitarian of the Year. Tim Maurer is a financial planner, educator, and blogger. He is Vice President of the Financial Consulate, a Fee-Only ® financial management firm in Hunt Valley, Maryland. He teaches financial planning at his alma mater, Towson University, and educates through his blog, TimMaurer.com. Maurer has been a frequent guest on CNBC and featured on ABC's Nightline . The co-host of Money, Riches & Wealth, a weekly Baltimore radio show, he has contributed to the Wall Street Journal , the New York Times , the Washington Post , and Money magazine, among other leading publications. Read more

From the Inside Flap Preface To the Student The purpose of this workbook is to help you practice the critical skills of problem solving and applying information to common situations you encounter in your practice of professional nursing. The role of the professional nurse has become exceedingly more complex, as nurses must care for clients in shorter time periods and in a variety of settings such as home, hospital, outpatient clinics, and rehabilitation facilities. No longer do nurses have extended periods of time to process information and plan care. As insurance plans dictate shorter stays and/or fewer visits, nurses must be able to analyze situations, plan interventions, and respond quickly to ever-changing situations. The "Unfolding Cases Model" (Glendon and Ulrich, 1997) will give you practice in the skills you will need in the workplace. You will be asked to analyze realistic cases that unfold sequentially and follow the typical progression of common conditions or disorders. All cases are interspersed with focused questions to be answered by groups of students using common cooperative learning strategies (see Table 1). By using the case as a study guide prior to class, you will have some time to explore these focused questions individually, prior to your group involvement. This prior preparation will increase the effectiveness of the group strategy. Your instructor will brief you about the strategy she or he wishes you to use, as well as the process of how to report your group's findings to the entire class. An important aspect of learning and using critical thinking is being able to examine the varied perspectives of others. This cooperative learning group strategy exposes you to the alternative ideas and ways of thinking of your peers, thus multiplying the learning potential of the case. At the end of each case you will be asked to complete a reflective writing assignment that will allow you to investigate your individual thoughts, feelings, and ideas related to nursing practice issues or situations (see Table 2). In nursing practice we are frequently exposed to situations that oppose our personal values and beliefs. These cases will give you an opportunity to explore these issues and help you identify the nursing role. Your instructor may collect the cases prior to class discussion to determine your level of preparation for discussion of the case. In any instance, prior individual preparation will benefit both you and your group as you process the case in class. This book is designed to help you adapt to the new ways your instructors will be teaching in the new millennium. Research has shown that students learn best when they are actively involved in the process of learning and are not passive recipients of the teacher's expertise. You will notice that your instructors are using the lecture method less often and are relying on newer interactive group strategies. This can be very disturbing to you as a student who is used to previous methods that required you to merely take notes on what the instructor presented and regurgitate the same information back to them on a test. Now, in this model, the instructor poses a case and asks you and your peers to process it. They won't be just giving you the right answers. Your first impulse might be to think your instructor is not doing anything and that you are teaching yourself. This is a common feeling, but it is far from the truth. The instructor is merely changing his or her role in the teaching and learning process from being the center of knowledge to being one of manipulating the environment so that students can be involved in and discover the connections of things in an active fashion. Being actively involved will increase your learning. In the traditional lecture method, students quickly learn that it is not really necessary to read or prepare much prior to class because the teacher will tell them in the lecture everything that is really important. This way of thinking is erroneous in that today's world is filled with volumes of ever-changing information and no one could possibly know everything. Therefore, the most important job of the teacher is to create focus and teach you how to think. Information will change, but the skill of problem solving and critical thinking will benefit you forever. That is the purpose of this "Unfolding Case Model." (Glendon and Ulrich, 1997) In traditional methods, the majority of time you spend with the teacher is when she or he is presenting you with new information in a lecture. Until you have had the time to process that information, you are unaware of what you do not understand or what questions you have. It is when you are alone reviewing your notes and trying to process and apply information that you really need the teacher's help. In the new learning paradigm, students need to prepare individually by doing the reading assignments and/or looking at the case prior to class. Class time should be the time when the instructor helps students process information that they have already been exposed to through their own reading. The "Unfolding Case" method actualizes this line of thinking. In using this book, you need to read through the case before doing your reading assignment to help you emphasize the important content in the reading. As you read, jot down possible solutions to each of the focused questions. This~will help you as you interact with your peers to process the case in class. Your instructor will tell you which cooperative learning strategies to use and how to report your findings as a group. He or she may also use this same model at the end of a clinical for a post conference or as a clinical make-up assignment. As you complete the cases, it is our hope that you will work with your instructor and expand your ability to learn and grow as a professional. Sincerely, Kellie Glendon and Debbie Ulrich From the Back Cover Unfolding Case Studies: Experiencing the Realities of Clinical Nursing Practice Kellie J. Glendon MSN, RNC Kellie J. Glendon MSN, RNC Deborah L. Ulrich Ph.D, RN Deborah L. Ulrich Ph.D, RN This workbook contains a compilation of case studies that explore issues spanning across the nursing curriculum. It includes coverage of spirituality, family, community, and gerontology concerns. Students gain experience in prioritizing nursing problems, identifying appropriate teaching strategies, documenting nursing care, and critically analyzing common situations they will encounter in their professional nursing practice.FEATURES: Includes over 60 case studies covering all core nursing areas. Includes over 60 case studies covering all core nursing areas. Emphasizes critical thinking and problem solving by encouraging readers to analyze given situations, prioritize, and formulate interventions. Emphasizes critical thinking and problem solving by encouraging readers to analyze given situations, prioritize, and formulate interventions. Presents a case that typifies a common disorder or disease and follows the client as the situation "unfolds" across time, settings, and/or disease progression, enabling readers to experience the realities of nursing practice as clients' conditions change. Presents a case that typifies a common disorder or disease and follows the client as the situation "unfolds" across time, settings, and/or disease progression, enabling readers to experience the realities of nursing practice as clients' conditions change. Integrates concepts such as age, setting, role development, and ethical/legal issues. Integrates concepts such as age, setting, role development, and ethical/legal issues. Writing prompts at the end of each case encourage readers to reflect on the experience, think about different perspectives, or plan future learning needs. Writing prompts at the end of each case encourage readers to reflect on the experience, think about different perspectives, or plan future learning needs. About the Author KELLIE J. GLENDON, MSN, RNC is an experienced nurse educator, author and national speaker on innovative teaching in nursing curricula. Kellie is an Associate Professor of Nursing at Miami University and has been teaching students in the Associate Degree Program for the past 13 years. She was awarded the Excellence in Teaching Award by the Greater Cincinnati Consortium of Colleges and Universities in 1998. Kellie continues to promote creative strategies to enhance critical thinking in nursing students. DEBORAH. L. ULRICH, PhD, RN is an experienced nurse educator who has influenced nurse educators through journal articles, national presentations, and a recent book on interactive group learning. Her strategies have challenged educators to experiment with new ways of teaching and learning. Debbie has been a nurse educator for the past 30 years in diverse educational settings. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Preface To the Student The purpose of this workbook is to help you practice the critical skills of problem solving and applying information to common situations you encounter in your practice of professional nursing. The role of the professional nurse has become exceedingly more complex, as nurses must care for clients in shorter time periods and in a variety of settings such as home, hospital, outpatient clinics, and rehabilitation facilities. No longer do nurses have extended periods of time to process information and plan care. As insurance plans dictate shorter stays and/or fewer visits, nurses must be able to analyze situations, plan interventions, and respond quickly to ever-changing situations. The "Unfolding Cases Model" (Glendon and Ulrich, 1997) will give you practice in the skills you will need in the workplace. You will be asked to analyze realistic cases that unfold sequentially and follow the typical progression of common conditions or disorders. All cases are interspersed with focused questions to be answered by groups of students using common cooperative learning strategies (see Table 1). By using the case as a study guide prior to class, you will have some time to explore these focused questions individually, prior to your group involvement. This prior preparation will increase the effectiveness of the group strategy. Your instructor will brief you about the strategy she or he wishes you to use, as well as the process of how to report your group's findings to the entire class. An important aspect of learning and using critical thinking is being able to examine the varied perspectives of others. This cooperative learning group strategy exposes you to the alternative ideas and ways of thinking of your peers, thus multiplying the learning potential of the case. At the end of each case you will be asked to complete a reflective writing assignment that will allow you to investigate your individual thoughts, feelings, and ideas related to nursing practice issues or situations (see Table 2). In nursing practice we are frequently exposed to situations that oppose our personal values and beliefs. These cases will give you an opportunity to explore these issues and help you identify the nursing role. Your instructor may collect the cases prior to class discussion to determine your level of preparation for discussion of the case. In any instance, prior individual preparation will benefit both you and your group as you process the case in class. This book is designed to help you adapt to the new ways your instructors will be teaching in the new millennium. Research has shown that students learn best when they are actively involved in the process of learning and are not passive recipients of the teacher's expertise. You will notice that your instructors are using the lecture method less often and are relying on newer interactive group strategies. This can be very disturbing to you as a student who is used to previous methods that required you to merely take notes on what the instructor presented and regurgitate the same information back to them on a test. Now, in this model, the instructor poses a case and asks you and your peers to process it. They won't be just giving you the right answers. Your first impulse might be to think your instructor is not doing anything and that you are teaching yourself. This is a common feeling, but it is far from the truth. The instructor is merely changing his or her role in the teaching and learning process from being the center of knowledge to being one of manipulating the environment so that students can be involved in and discover the connections of things in an active fashion. Being actively involved will increase your learning. In the traditional lecture method, students quickly learn that it is not really necessary to read or prepare much prior to class because the teacher will tell them in the lecture everything that is really important. This way of thinking is erroneous in that today's world is filled with volumes of ever-changing information and no one could possibly know everything. Therefore, the most important job of the teacher is to create focus and teach you how to think. Information will change, but the skill of problem solving and critical thinking will benefit you forever. That is the purpose of this "Unfolding Case Model." (Glendon and Ulrich, 1997) In traditional methods, the majority of time you spend with the teacher is when she or he is presenting you with new information in a lecture. Until you have had the time to process that information, you are unaware of what you do not understand or what questions you have. It is when you are alone reviewing your notes and trying to process and apply information that you really need the teacher's help. In the new learning paradigm, students need to prepare individually by doing the reading assignments and/or looking at the case prior to class. Class time should be the time when the instructor helps students process information that they have already been exposed to through their own reading. The "Unfolding Case" method actualizes this line of thinking. In using this book, you need to read through the case before doing your reading assignment to help you emphasize the important content in the reading. As you read, jot down possible solutions to each of the focused questions. This~will help you as you interact with your peers to process the case in class. Your instructor will tell you which cooperative learning strategies to use and how to report your findings as a group. He or she may also use this same model at the end of a clinical for a post conference or as a clinical make-up assignment. As you complete the cases, it is our hope that you will work with your instructor and expand your ability to learn and grow as a professional. Sincerely,  Kellie Glendon and Debbie Ulrich Read more