Henry's short stories are known for their wit, wordplay, warm characterization and clever twist endings.

    Somerset Maugham–the author of the classic novels Of Human Bondage and Up at the Villa–introduces us to Julia Lambert, a woman of breathtaking poise and talent whose looks have stood by her forty-six years. She is a star UK stage actress–-so good, in fact, that perhaps she never stops acting.It seems that noting can ruffle her satin feathers, until a quiet stranger challenges Julia's very sense of self. As a result, she will endure rejection for the first time, her capacity as a mother will be affronted, and her ability to put on whatever face she desired for her public will prove limited. In Theatre, Maugham subtly exposes the tensions and triumphs that occur when acting and reality blend together, and–for Julia–ultimately reverse.

    It is amazing how much history, biographical material, and music is included in this book! Sebastian Bach, The Boy from Thuringia is the first complete work on the life of Bach ever written for children. Every important incident is mentioned and every detail of the story is true. It is filled with vivid descriptions of Bach s childhood: how he sat up many nights and copied music by the light of the moon, and how he walked two hundred miles to a choir school at Luneburg. Then his adult life: how he helped his wife Magdalena put the twenty children to bed every night; how he spread brown bread with honey for them to eat every afternoon; and how he taught them all to sing and play different musical instruments. The music reproduced here represents all of the different kinds of music that Bach ever wrote. A child can never really know music unless he knows Bach, for his contribution is the foundation and structural basis of all music. But it is more the human side of this book that will make it live, for in it the great master breathes. All who read it will know him not only as a musical genius, but also as an eager child, an affectionate father, and a lovable human being."

    Although Edith Wharton is best known for her novels The Age of Innocence and The House of Mirth, this extensive collection of her short fiction shows her to be a master of all its varieties. Wharton's stories ... owe their enduring power to portray the emotional consequences of life in a rarefied world."—The New York TimesThe Pelican --The Other Two --The Mission of Jane --The Reckoning --The Last Asset --The Letters --Autres Temps ... --The Long Run --After Holbein --Atrophy --Pomegranate Seed --Her Son --Charm Incorporated --All Souls' --The Lamp of Psyche --A Journey --The Line of Least Resistance --The Moving Finger --Expiation --Les Metteurs en Scene --Full Circle --The Daunt Diana --Afterward --The Bolted Door --The Temperate Zone --Diagnosis --The Day of the Funeral --Confession --

    These had to be sorted carefully because he had a habit of writing on whatever scrap of paper was handy--backs of envelopes, tax memoranda, or small pads of paper which he could hold in his hands on days when they were too lame for the big ones. We talked daily about his father and mother and I knew perfectly the material he had in mind to use. Then I found, as I read and sorted the manuscripts, not only had he told it to me, but that he had written it down. Clarence had done all but the last chores involved in preparing a manuscript for a typist. All that remained to be done was the mechanical job of piecing together the incidents so that they could be copied. His work on his father and mother was finished. There was one exception: Mother's last home was so characteristic of her and meant so much to her that, following notes, and copying from Clarence's diary, I inserted a description of her last days. When he was alive Clarence used to speak of what the interest of his friends, his brother George Parmly Day and his wife, and Mr. Knopf and his staff had meant to him. It would not be fair to publish this book without thanking them for their continuing kindness; and also thanking two of his friends especially: Mrs. Alice Duer Miller and Mrs. Katharine S. White, for their ever-ready and helpful criticism.? --Katherine B. Day CONTENTS: Mother Reads My Article to FatherMother and Father MeetFather Visits the WarFather's Methods of CourtshipGrandpa Assists at a S?anceMother Shows Us OffNoble BoysMother Gives Father a SurpriseFather Buys Us a BoatMother on HorsebackMother and Bessie Skinner's RingFather Brightens the SickroomMother Gets an AllowanceFather and Old Mother EarthFather Invests in a LiveryMother and Our Wicked MareFather's Troublesome NeighbourMother Makes a Mustard PlasterMother and Pug Dogs and Rubber TreesMother Plays Her RoleFather's Home DisappearsMother Travels AloneMother and the Servant ProblemMother's Last Home a selection from the first chapter: MOTHER READS MY ARTICLE TO FATHER? There has been some discussion in the Day family, among its members and friends, of the things that I say about Father and Mother. One of their objections is that in several places I haven't been accurate. I have tried to be, but memories are sometimes inexact, and mine is no exception. However, these pieces have been subjected to a great deal of scrutiny, helpful and otherwise, from members of the family who have sometimes remembered things differently. Cousin Julia for instance insists that Mother's musicales occurred in the evening, whereas I have described one as taking place in the late afternoon. I feel sure that in this case I am right, for we used to write each other long letters about family doings and these have given me contemporary accounts of the scenes I've described. Other scenes have come down through the years as family anecdotes. Since I was an actor in most of them they have remained dramatically printed on my mind. Besides, any memories of two such persons as Father and Mother are bound to be vivid. The other family objection is that in printing these stories I have not been decently reticent. My feeling was that these two persons were so utterly themselves, so completely natural and true, that the only good way to tell about them was to paint them just as they were. The first article I printed about them was written one night when I needed an extra paragraph for a column which I was occasionally writing, that year, for the literary supplement of the New York Evening Post.