...sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. I le hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil...
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...my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim’s face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. Sitting at Prim’s knees, guarding her, is the world’s ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. I le hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of 4 the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect...
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...Acclaim for Yann Martel's Life of Pi "Life of Pi is not just a readable and engaging novel, it's a finely twisted length of yarn— yarn implying a far-fetched story you can't quite swallow whole, but can't dismiss outright. Life of Pi is in this tradition—a story of uncertain veracity, made credible by the art of the yarn-spinner. Like its noteworthy ancestors, among which I take to be Robinson Crusoe, Gulliver's Travels, the Ancient Mariner, Moby Dick and Pincher Martin, it's a tale of disaster at sea coupled with miraculous survival—a boys' adventure for grownups." —Margaret Atwood, The Sunday Times (London) "A fabulous romp through an imagination by turns ecstatic, cunning, despairing and resilient, this novel is an impressive achievement. . . . Martel displays the clever voice and tremendous storytelling skills of an emerging master." —Publisher's Weekly (starred review) "[Life of Pi] has a buoyant, exotic, insistence reminiscent of Edgar Allen Poe's most Gothic fiction. . . . Oddities abound and the storytelling is first-rate. Yann Martel has written a novel full of grisly reality, outlandish plot, inventive setting and thought-provoking questions about the value and purpose of fiction." —The Edmonton journal "Martel's ceaselessly clever writing . . . [and] artful, occasionally hilarious, internal dialogue . . . make a fine argument for the divinity of good art." —The Gazette "Astounding and beautiful. . . . The book is a pleasure not only for the subtleties of its philosophy...
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...Aravind Adiga. p. cm. 1. Chauffeurs—India—Bangalore—Fiction. 2. Poor—India— Bangalore—Fiction. 3. Ambition—Fiction. 4. Business people— India—Bangalore—Fiction. 5. Bangalore (India)—Fiction. I. Title. PR9619.4.A35W47 2008 2007045527 823'.92—dc22 ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-6273-3 ISBN-10: 1-4165-6273-7 Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com The First Night For the Desk of: His Excellency Wen Jiabao The Premier's Office Beijing Capital of the Freedom-loving Nation of China From the Desk of: "The White Tiger" A Thinking Man And an Entrepreneur Living in the world's center of Technology and Outsourcing Electronics City Phase 1 (just off Hosur Main Road) Bangalore, India Mr. Premier, Sir. Neither you nor I speak English, but there are some things that can be said only in English. My ex-employer the late Mr. Ashok's ex-wife, Pinky Madam, taught me one of these things; and at 11:32 p.m. today, which was about ten minutes ago, when the lady on All India Radio announced, "Premier Jiabao is coming to Bangalore next week," I said that...
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...Project Gutenberg Etext of Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome Please take a look at the important information in this header. We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and further information is included below. We need your donations. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome August, 1995 [Etext #308] Project Gutenberg Etext of Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome *******This file should be named 3boat10.txt or 3boat10.zip******* Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, 3boat11.txt. VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 3boat10a.txt. Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome - Scanned and First Proof David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. Second proof: Margaret Price We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance of the official release dates, for time for better editing. Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment and...
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...Growing Up Asian in Australia file:///D|/ /Calibre Library/Wei Zhi/Growing Up Asian in Australia (799)/text/part0000.html[2014-6-18 23:54:32] Growing Up Asian in Australia file:///D|/ /Calibre Library/Wei Zhi/Growing Up Asian in Australia (799)/text/part0000.html[2014-6-18 23:54:32] Growing Up Asian in Australia Growing up Asian in Australia file:///D|/ /Calibre Library/Wei Zhi/Growing Up Asian in Australia (799)/text/part0001.html[2014-6-18 23:54:33] Growing Up Asian in Australia Growing up Asian in Australia ...................................... Alice Pung Edited by file:///D|/ /Calibre Library/Wei Zhi/Growing Up Asian in Australia (799)/text/part0002.html[2014-6-18 23:54:33] Growing Up Asian in Australia Published by Black Inc., an imprint of Schwartz Media Pty Ltd Level 5, 289 Flinders Lane Melbourne Victoria 3000 Australia email: enquiries@blackincbooks.com http://www.blackincbooks.com Introduction and this collection © Alice Pung & Black Inc. Individual works © retained by the authors. Reprinted 2008 . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 2008. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the publishers. Photo of Hoa Pham by Alister Air. Photo of Joy Hopwood by Yanna Black. The National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry: Pung, Alice (ed.) Growing up...
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...Yann Martel: Life of Pi life of pi A NOVEL author's note This book was born as I was hungry. Let me explain. In the spring of 1996, my second book, a novel, came out in Canada. It didn't fare well. Reviewers were puzzled, or damned it with faint praise. Then readers ignored it. Despite my best efforts at playing the clown or the trapeze artist, the media circus made no difference. The book did not move. Books lined the shelves of bookstores like kids standing in a row to play baseball or soccer, and mine was the gangly, unathletic kid that no one wanted on their team. It vanished quickly and quietly. The fiasco did not affect me too much. I had already moved on to another story, a novel set in Portugal in 1939. Only I was feeling restless. And I had a little money. So I flew to Bombay. This is not so illogical if you realize three things: that a stint in India will beat the restlessness out of any living creature; that a little money can go a long way there; and that a novel set in Portugal in 1939 may have very little to do with Portugal in 1939. I had been to India before, in the north, for five months. On that first trip I had come to the subcontinent completely unprepared. Actually, I had a preparation of one word. When I told a friend who knew the country well of my travel plans, he said casually, "They speak a funny English in India. They like words like bamboozle." I remembered his words as my plane started its descent towards Delhi, so the word bamboozle ...
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...ten years since I first ran for political office. I was thirty-five at the time, four years out of law school, recently married, and generally impatient with life. A seat in the Illinois legislature had opened up, and several friends suggested that I run, thinking that my work as a civil rights lawyer, and contacts from my days as a community organizer, would make me a viable candidate. After discussing it with my wife, I entered the race and proceeded to do what every first-time candidate does: I talked to anyone who would listen. I went to block club meetings and church socials, beauty shops and barbershops. If two guys were standing on a corner, I would cross the street to hand them campaign literature. And everywhere I went, I’d get some version of the same two questions. “Where’d you get that funny name?” And then: “You seem like a nice enough guy. Why do you want to go into something dirty and nasty like politics?” I was familiar with the question, a variant on the questions asked of me years earlier, when I’d first arrived in Chicago to work in low-income neighborhoods. It signaled a cynicism not simply with politics but with the very notion of a public life, a cynicism that—at least in the South Side neighborhoods I sought to represent—had been nourished by a generation of broken promises. In response, I would usually smile and nod and say that I understood the skepticism, but that there was—and always had been—another tradition to politics, a tradition that stretched...
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...hiring practices, Poundstone manages to sneak in a wealth of material on the crucial issue of how to hire in today's knowledge-based economy. How Would You Move Mount Fuji? delivers on the promise of revealing the tricks to Microsoft's notorious hiring challenges. But, more important, Poundstone, an accomplished science journalist, shows how puzzles can — and cannot — identify the potential stars of a competitive company.... Poundstone gives smart advice to candidates on how to 'pass' the puzzle game.... Of course, let's not forget the real fun of the book: the puzzles themselves." — Tom Ehrenfeld, Boston Globe "A dead-serious book about recruiting practices and abstract reasoning — presented as a puzzle game.... Very, very valuable to some job applicants — the concepts being more important than the answers. It would have usefulness as well to interviewers with a cruel streak, and the addicts of mind/ word games." — Michael Pakenham, Baltimore Sun "Poundstone offers canny advice and tips for successfully confronting and mastering this seemingly perverse type of pre-employment torture." — Richard Pachter, Miami Herald "How would you design Bill Gates's bathroom? Now that's one question you've probably never asked anyone in a job interview (or...
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...into the frozen air. My muscles are clenched tight against the cold. If a pack of wild dogs were to appear at this moment, the odds of scaling a tree before they attacked are not in my favor. I should get up, move around, and work the stiffness from my limbs. But instead I sit, as motionless as the rock beneath me, while the dawn begins to lighten the woods. I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been dreading for months. By noon they will all be at my new house in the Victor's Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Effie Trinket, my old escort, will have made their way to District 12 from the Capitol. I wonder if Effie will still be wearing that silly pink wig, or if she'll be sporting some other unnatural color especially for the Victory Tour. There will be others waiting, too. A staff to cater to my every need on the long train trip. A prep team to beautify me for public appearances. My stylist and friend, Cinna, who designed the gorgeous outfits that first made the audience take notice of me in the Hunger Games. If it were up to me, I would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. Never speak of them. Pretend they were nothing but a bad dream. But the Victory Tour makes that impossible. Strategically placed almost midway between the annual Games, it is the...
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...REBEL ANGELS BY LIBBA BRAY CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY PROLOGUE DECEMBER 7, 1895 HEREIN LIES THE FAITHFUL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF my last sixty days, by Kartik, brother of Amar, loyal son of the Rakshana, and of the strange visitation I received that has left me wary on this cold English night. To begin at the beginning, I must go back to the middle days of October, after the misfortune that occurred. It was growing colder when I left the woods behind the Spence Academy for Young Ladies. I'd received a letter by falcon from the Rakshana. My presence was required immediately in London. I was to keep off the main roads and be certain I was not followed...
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...Salman Rushdie Midnight's Children First published in 1981 Excerpts from the Koran come from the Penguin Classics edition, translated by N. J. Dawood, copyright (c) 1956, 1959,1966,1968,1974. for Zafar Rushdie who, contrary to all expectations, was born in the afternoon Contents Book One The perforated sheet Mercurochrome Hit-the-spittoon Under the carpet A public announcement Many-headed monsters Methwold Tick, tock Book Two The fisherman's pointing finger Snakes and ladders Accident in a washing-chest All-India radio Love in Bombay My tenth birthday At the Pioneer Cafe Alpha and Omega The Kolynos Kid Commander Sabarmati's baton Revelations Movements performed by pepperpots Drainage and the desert Jamila Singer How Saleem achieved purity Book Three The buddha In the Sundarbans Sam and the Tiger The shadow of the Mosque A wedding Midnight Abracadabra Book One The perforated sheet I was born in the city of Bombay ... once upon a time. No, that won't do, there's no getting away from the date: I was born in Doctor Narlikar's Nursing Home on August 15th, 1947. And the time? The time matters, too. Well then: at night. No, it's important to be more ... On the stroke of midnight, as a matter of fact. Clock-hands joined palms in respectful greeting as I came. Oh, spell it out, spell it out: at the precise instant of India's arrival at independence, I tumbled forth into the world. There were gasps. And, outside the...
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...into the frozen air. My muscles are clenched tight against the cold. If a pack of wild dogs were to appear at this moment, the odds of scaling a tree before they attacked are not in my favor. I should get up, move around, and work the stiffness from my limbs. But instead I sit, as motionless as the rock beneath me, while the dawn begins to lighten the woods. I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been dreading for months. By noon they will all be at my new house in the Victor's Village. The reporters, the camera crews, even Effie Trinket, my old escort, will have made their way to District 12 from the Capitol. I wonder if Effie will still be wearing that silly pink wig, or if she'll be sporting some other unnatural color especially for the Victory Tour. There will be others waiting, too. A staff to cater to my every need on the long train trip. A prep team to beautify me for public appearances. My stylist and friend, Cinna, who designed the gorgeous outfits that first made the audience take notice of me in the Hunger Games. If it were up to me, I would try to forget the Hunger Games entirely. Never speak of them. Pretend they were nothing but a bad dream. But the Victory Tour makes that impossible. Strategically placed almost midway between the annual Games, it is the Capitol's way of...
Words: 101974 - Pages: 408
...about yachting-and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the subsequent putting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald statement that it had been bought-by a Mr. Owen. After that the rurnours of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that it was to be an abode for Royalty??! Mr. Merryweather had had it whispered to him that it had been bought for a honeymoon-Young Lord L-- had surrendered to Cupid at last! Jonas knew for a fact that it had been purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush experiments! Definitely, Indian Island was news! From his pocket Mr. Justice Wargrave drew out a letter. The handwriting was practically illegible but words here and there stood out with unexpected clarity. Dearest Lawrence . . . such years since I heard anything of you . . . must come to Indian Island . . . the most enchanting place . . . so much to talk over . . . old days . . . communion with Nature...
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...from Empire by Orson Scott Card. A Tor Book. Published by Tom Doherty Associates,LLC. Copyright© 2006 by Orson Scott Card. Reprinted with permission of the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. ISBN: 978-0-316-03283-4 Contents BOOK ONE: BELLA Preface 1. Engaged 2. Long Night 3. Big Day 4.Gesture 5. Isle Esme 6. Distractions 7. Unexpected BOOK TWO: JACOB Preface 8. Waiting For The Damn Fight To Start Already 9. Sure As Hell Didn't See That One Coming 10. Why Didn't I Just Walk Away? Oh Right, Because I'm An Idiot. 11. The Two Things At The Very Top Of My Things-I-Never-Want-To-Do List 12. Some People Just Don't Grasp The Concept Of "Unwelcome^" 13. Good Thing I've Got A Strong Stomach 14. You Know Things Are Bad When You Feel Guilty For Being Rude To Vampires 15. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock 16. Too-Much-Information Alert 17. What Do I Look Like? The Wizard Of Oz? You Need A Brain? You Need A Heart? Go Ahead. Take Mine. Take Everything I Have. 18. There Are No Words For This. BOOK THREE: BELLA Preface 19....
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