Billy, the bisexual narrator and main character of In One Person, tells the tragicomic story (lasting more than half a century) of his life as a "sexual suspect," a phrase first used by John Irving in 1978 in his landmark novel of "terminal cases," The World According to Garp.In One Person is a poignant tribute to Billy’s friends and lovers—a theatrical cast of characters who defy category and convention. Not least, In One Person is an intimate and unforgettable portrait of the solitariness of a bisexual man who is dedicated to making himself "worthwhile.

    He was a tight man. Everything about him was close and quiet; his gestures were short and clean, with no wasted movement. His eyes were bright and hard, the kind of blue you might see in the sky at high noon, if you looked straight up at the sky; almost white, but still pale, pale blue. He had dark yellowish circles under his eyes that rested on his cheekbones where the skin was drawn tight, as if he might have liver trouble from too much drinking, but he was physically sound and the circles came from playing stud poker all day and all night for many years. He had been playing in the back room of Hoban’s Pool Room and Poker Parlor since Monday at 4 p.m. It had started out as fooling around and then, as happened so many times, it developed into a game. The others began to drop in and a gig was working. It was nickel-and-dime stuff as long as it was The Kid and The Shooter and Pig, but when Carey and Carmody came in, both of whom bet the Cardinals and had won nicely over the weekend double-header, the play moved, deceptively, from nickel-and-dime to a quarter and a half and then wide open. It was Wednesday now, eleven in the morning. The game, like an endlessly circling bird, moved with a slow inexorable pace toward the center pot of money that grew magically with each dealt hand; revolving hands of cards, accompanied with a musical comment of silver upon silver tossed into the center of the table as the chant was heard, so soft as to be a litany calling on ghostly assistance and deliverance. “Queens bet.” “A half.” “In.” “Kicking it a half.” “And another half.” “And a half more.” “Buck and a half to me, and a half more.” The ritual quickened. It was the fourth card. Now the whisper and flutter of paper money would wash into the middle of the table. Someone dealt. The cards sliced through the smoky airless room like silent stealing death. And with each card, face up, a chant of destiny from the dealer, for he was the sole instrument in the life of a rambling-gambling man, bringing face up for all the world to see the next wonderful secret. There is nothing more for the gambling man. It is all there, sealed in the narrow turn of the next card. “A five to the queens, a jack to the possible, a nothing to the fours, an ace to the kicker, and the Gun shoots himself a red ten. Still queens.” “Queens check.” The raiser came back with a touch, a breath, feeling his way into those checking queens like a man fumbling in the dark. He touched it and then the queens slammed down hard on him. “Twenty dollars.” It was the clap of doom. Three players dropped out and it was back to the raiser. He hesitated. He knew three fours could not beat three queens. And to make sure (though there was another card coming and another chance) there were three queens, it would cost him twenty dollars. Pig had the fours. The Kid had the queens. They looked at each other’s cards. They were past the point as rambling-gambling men where they could play each other’s faces. Pig played the cards. There was no hope in playing The Kid. And it was not worth twenty dollars to see if The Kid was bluffing. He folded. The Shooter gathered up the cards and began to shuffle. In his huge hands the cards were like summer moths around a light, fluttering, singing, tightening and then disappearing as he cut them and rippled them again. The Shooter was acknowledged as the best man with cards along the Mississippi and west to Vegas. He looked over at The Kid who was stacking his half dollars. “They say Lancey is in town,” he said softly.

     The call came from Sir Henri Lipton, a man who was supposed to be dead—and who she sincerely had hoped was burning in hell because he had ruined her career before his violent “demise.”  He told her only one tantalizing thing about the piece of art: “Let’s just say it’s a couple thousand years old and was buried with Christ.”  The fact the offer came from a man wanted on three continents for art looting was fair warning that there would be a catch. But with credit collectors and an avaricious landlord pounding at her door, Madison listened when the devil whispered magic words in her ear: $20,000– cash – upfront.  There was a catch, of course.  A number of them.  Sir Henri was up to his neck in conspiracies and needed someone to deflect the danger onto—not to mention frame for the most audacious art theft in history.  Dubai, a city that has been called Las Vegas on steroids, would just be the first stop for Madison on a quest that takes her to an ancient Mesopotamian city, the dark streets of exotic Istanbul, Venice at Carnival time, and a cathedral where the most sacred object of Christendom is stored.  Along the way, she finds romance in the arms of a Russian agent who she doesn’t trust—and can’t resist.

    This is coal and steel country. The sort of place where an inch of soot on the windowsill means a regular paycheck--and two inches means a fat one. And what's the best make-out spot in town? Next to the burning slag heap. In seventeen beguiling, linked stories, spanning fourty-five years, Monk brings a corner of America alive as never before. Her world bursts with indelible characters: Mrs. Szilborski, who bakes great cake, but sprays her neighbors' dogs with mace; and Mrs. Wojic, who believes her husband was reincarnated--as one of those dogs. Then there is the younger generation: Annie Kusiak, who wants to write, and Theresa Gojuk, who dreams of stardom. Cokesville is their Yoknapatawpha; they ache to escape it and the ghosts of their ancestors and the regret of their parents. What ghosts--and what regrets! When Theresa's father Bruno falls into a vat of molten steel, the mill gives the family an ingot roughly his weight to bury. As deliciously wry as Allegra Goodman in "The Family Markowitz," and with the matter-of-fact humanity of Grace Paley, Bathsheba Monk leads us into a world that is at once totally surprising and recognizable. These stories glow like molten steel.

    He was a sailor and took part in the Klondike gold rush. The Call of the Wild, the classic story of sled-dog Buck brought him instant celebrity and established his readership to this day. Self-educated, London was heavily influenced by the works of Darwin, Marx, and Nietzsche. This, along with his earlier experiences converted him to socialism as he explains in this volume.Contents:- The Class Struggle- The Tramp- The Scab- The Question of the Maximum- A Review- Wanted: A New Law of Development- How I Became a SocialistThis book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web.

    Families, homes, lovers, marriages -- the safe havens they have been taught to depend on no longer guarantee shelter or stability.ONE WAY OR ANOTHER introduces Peter Cameron as an extraordinary writer, one distinguished not only by his prose, which is always abundantly witty and pitch-perfect, but also by a rare generosity of heart.Included in this book are two stories that were selected for the O. HENRY PRIZE STORIES: "Homework," first published in The New Yorker, and "Excerpts from Swan Lake," first published in The Kenyon Review.

    Here is the incredible story of an imprisoned pedophile who is drawn into an erotically charged correspondence with a nineteen-year-old suburban coed. As the two reveal—and revel in—their obsessive desires, Homes creates in The End of Alice a novel that is part romance, part horror story, at once unnerving and seductive.

    

    in this off-kilter, coming-of-age romantic comedy.Abbie, a twenty-something free spirit who is dreading her looming parent-mandated enrollment in graduate school, makes a semi-annual pilgrimage to visit her perfectly well meaning and perfectly boring grandfather, Henry. But Abbie is roused out of her quarter-life crisis when she meets her grandfather's persnickety, oddball friend, Johnson. With his cane and elderly clothing, he is the very picture of a bitter old man. The problem is, Johnson is 23 years old, and apparently completely delusional. Also a problem: Abbie is falling in love with him. The first novel from screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker, OLD MAN JOHNSON is for the old (and young) at heart.Cover design by Kristen Radtke.Cover painting by Mark Allison.

    A delicious novel for fans of Tom Perrotta, Maria Semple, and Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney about how sometimes the only way to move forward is to go back.David Hedges’s life is coming apart at the seams. His job helping San Francisco rich kids get into the colleges of their (parents’) choice is exasperating; his younger boyfriend has left him; and the beloved carriage house he rents is being sold. His solace is a Thai takeout joint that delivers 24/7.The last person he expects to hear from is Julie Fiske. It’s been decades since they’ve spoken, and he’s relieved to hear she’s recovered from her brief, misguided first marriage. To him.Julie definitely doesn’t have a problem with marijuana (she’s given it up completely, so it doesn’t matter if she gets stoned almost daily) and the Airbnb she’s running out of her seaside house north of Boston is neither shabby nor illegal. And she has two whole months to come up with the money to buy said house from her second husband before their divorce is finalized. She’d just like David’s help organizing college plans for her 17-year-old daughter.That would be Mandy. To quote Barry Manilow, Oh Mandy. While she knows she’s smarter than most of the kids in her school, she can’t figure out why she’s making so many incredibly dumb and increasingly dangerous choices.When David flies east, they find themselves living under the same roof (one David needs to repair). David and Julie pick up exactly where they left off thirty years ago―they’re still best friends who can finish each other’s sentences. But there’s one broken bit between them that no amount of home renovations will fix.In prose filled with hilarious and heartbreakingly accurate one-liners, Stephen McCauley has written a novel that examines how we define home, family, and love. Be prepared to laugh, shed a few tears, and have thoughts of your own ex-life triggered. (Throw pillows optional.)

    AN ARAB TERRORIST ATTACK. DEMOCRACY UNDER SIEGE. Mario Puzo envisioned it all in his eerily prescient 1991 novel, The Fourth K.President Francis Xavier Kennedy is elected to office, in large part, thanks to the legacy of his forebears– good looks, privilege, wealth–and is the very embodiment of youthful optimism. Too soon, however, he is beaten down by the political process and, disabused of his ideals, he becomes a leader totally unlike what he has been before. When his daughter becomes a pawn in a brutal terrorist plot, Kennedy, who has obsessively kept alive the memory of his uncles’ assassinations, activates all his power to retaliate in a series of violent measures. As the explosive events unfold, the world and those closest to him look on with both awe and horror.

    

    An unforgettable story of coming of age in America, it is also an essential milestone in the movement of American fiction, from a novelist who has become one of the most important and enduring voices of this generation.

    Hard to imagine that no one counts,that only things endure.Unlike the seasons, our shirts don't shed,Whatever we see does not see us,however hard we look,The rain in its silver earrings against the oak trunks,The rain in its second skin.--from "Scar Tissue II"In his new collection, the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Charles Wright investigates the tenuous relationship between description and actuality--"thing is not an image"--but also reaffirms the project of attempting to describe, to capture the natural world and the beings in it, although he reminds us that landscape is not his subject matter but his technique: that language was always his subject--language and "the ghost of god." And in the dolomites, the clouds, stars, wind, and water that populate these poems, "something un-ordinary persists."Scar Tissue is a groundbreaking work from a poet who "illuminates and exalts the entire astonishing spectrum of existence" (Booklist).

    Her father's abuse dominates Cee Stark's childhood memories, her young mind scarred by the betrayal and trauma. Fearing that life will never improve, she prays for help. After Cee's father and beloved brother are dead from an accident which she feels responsible for, the twelve-year-old turns to her parish priest for forgiveness and comfort. Over the next few years, she falls under the influence of his tortured mind and distorted teachings. Cee's struggle for emotional independence and the priest's desire for control begins a battle of wills. Several bad decisions are made resulting in three acts of violence in Albuquerque in the winter of 2012. Seventeen-year-old Cee is connected to the three victims, and the police follow the threads leading to her. However, the truth is more tangled.The Mad Girl asks the question: Can a teen ever escape her mistakes, now that they have become deadly?