A true story of privilege, loss, self-discovery, and redemption, Lies My Mother Never Told Me is Jones’s unforgettable account of a not-quite-fairy-tale childhood and adulthood defined by two constants: literature and alcohol.

    Now, in Half Broke Horses, she brings us the story of her grandmother, told in a first-person voice that is authentic, irresistible, and triumphant. "Those old cows knew trouble was coming before we did." So begins the story of Lily Casey Smith, Jeannette Walls's no nonsense, resourceful, and spectacularly compelling grandmother. By age six, Lily was helping her father break horses. At fifteen, she left home to teach in a frontier town -- riding five hundred miles on her pony, alone, to get to her job. She learned to drive a car ("I loved cars even more than I loved horses. They didn't need to be fed if they weren't working, and they didn't leave big piles of manure all over the place") and fly a plane. And, with her husband Jim, she ran a vast ranch in Arizona. She raised two children, one of whom is Jeannette's memorable mother, Rosemary Smith Walls, unforgettably portrayed in The Glass Castle. Lily survived tornadoes, droughts, floods, the Great Depression, and the most heartbreaking personal tragedy. She bristled at prejudice of all kinds -- against women, Native Americans, and anyone else who didn't fit the mold. Rosemary Smith Walls always told Jeannette that she was like her grandmother, and in this true-life novel, Jeannette Walls channels that kindred spirit. Half Broke Horses is Laura Ingalls Wilder for adults, as riveting and dramatic as Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa or Beryl Markham's West with the Night. Destined to become a classic, it will transfix audiences everywhere.

    It takes months before the boy can speak enough English to tell his parents that he already has a family back in India. Horrified, they try their best to track down his Indian family, but all avenues lead to dead ends.Meanwhile, they simply love him, change his name to Taj, enroll him in school, make him part of their family—and his story might have ended there had it not been for the pestering questions in his head: Who am I? Why was I taken? How do I get home?More than a decade later, Taj meets Priya, a girl from southern India with surprising ties to his past. Is she the key to unveil the secrets of his childhood or is it too late? And if he does make it back to India, how will he find his family with so few clues?

    His memoir is a funny, thrilling, and ruthlessly honest exhumation of his drinking life and a candid account of his first 90 days without alcoholTom traces his alcoholism back to his British boyhood at Eton College, England's oldest and most exclusive boarding school, where the boys had to wear tail suits to class and there was a school pub. He delves into his aristocratic family's well-documented fondness for the bottle and covers his own drinking apprenticeship as a trainee journalist on London's famously alcohol-sodden newspapers.Whether he is getting arrested for drunk driving at the age of 15, climbing naked into his friends' and colleagues' beds, or simply trying to file an emergency front-page update while reeling from a cocktail of Ecstacy and magic mushrooms, Tom takes the reader on an addictive journey into the insanity of intoxication—all too often followed by a mossy tongue, a dull headache, and one burning question: "What the hell did I do last night?"

    It is doubtful that Bennett could have made up the eccentric Miss Shepherd if he tried, but his poignant, funny but unsentimental account of their strange relationship is akin to his best fictional screen writing.Bennett concedes that "One seldom was able to do her a good turn without some thoughts of strangulation", but as the plastic bags build up, the years pass by and Miss Shepherd moves into Bennett's driveway, a relationship is established which defines a certain moment in late 20th-century London life which has probably gone forever. The dissenting, liberal, middle-class world of Bennett and his peers comes into hilarious but also telling collision with the world of Miss Shepherd: "there was a gap between our social position and our social obligations. It was in this gap that Miss Shepherd (in her van) was able to live". Bennett recounts Miss Shepherd's bizarre escapades in his inimitable style, from her letter to the Argentinean Embassy at the height of the Falklands War, to her attempts to stand for Parliament and wangle an electric wheelchair out of the Social Services. Beautifully observed, The Lady in the Van is as notable for Bennett's attempts to uncover the enigmatic history of Miss Shepherd, as it is for its amusing account of her eccentric escapades. --Jerry Brotton

    My narrative covers many issues which increasingly threaten all classes of modern day society. Principle among these is the heartbreak of Addiction, and the collateral devastation it exacts in all its’ forms. Regrettably, true appreciation of addiction’s desperate landscape, too often requires one’s intimate personal involvement with its twisted and insidious nature. Despite this grim caveat, a powerfully descriptive account can nevertheless provide some measure of protective awareness. With this in mind, please consider some of the issues discussed in my story: · Raised primarily by an abusive, unemployed, alcoholic step-father, and a mother more concerned with maintaining her tenuous relationship than protecting her children. · My gradual descent into the drug-culture of the 1960’s, culminating in Heroin use at 15, and addiction by 16 years of age. · Forcible eviction from my home by my stepfather at age 16; the grueling adaptation to street-life and homelessness, while supporting a significant drug habit. · Surviving as a frightened white teenager in Spanish Harlem; forced to live in abandoned buildings (which doubled as “Shooting Galleries”), Central Park, the Subways (during winter), stairwells or boiler-rooms. · Ejection from High School after being caught shooting Heroin in the school bathroom. · My criminal involvement and subsequent arrests, resulting in jail time, jumping parole, and interstate flight to avoid prosecution. · My decision to begin Methadone Maintenance. · My mysterious “Epiphany”, providing incentive for my detox, and subsequent devotion to Physical Fitness. · Falsifying documents to enter College without ever achieving a GED or Diploma. · Gaining early admission to Medical School, with neither a College Degree nor High School Diploma. · Relapse into narcotic addiction following surgery during my 3rd year of Medical School. · Completing Internship and gaining acceptance to an Anesthesiology Residency while maintaining a narcotics habit. · Entry into treatment following my 1st year of Residency; my re-entry into another Anesthesia Residency. · Relapse after completing Residency, while performing 3rd world medicine; taking a position at a hospital in Penn. · My arrest for narcotic diversion; my imprisonment which ultimately totaled 34 months, and the loss of my Medical License. · Becoming the subject of a 20/20 television broadcast which was intentionally twisted and malevolently distorted through disingenuous editing. · The years following the loss of my profession. My depression, anxiety, hopelessness, and subsequent suicide attempts; my eventual acceptance of life’s disparate and capricious nature, and how life, and our success within it, is defined simply by our own perspective. DIRTY WHITE BOY avidly supports and encourages the belief that no matter how desperate our current life appears, we all have the power to rise above it. Those currently struggling with personal demons need to realize their future is malleable by design, not immutable or cast in stone. It is also a cautionary tale warning that success comes hand-in-hand with inherent temptations. Arrogance and conceit are equally as addictive as any narcotic; to forget our past quite often means we are destined to repeat it.

    The plot centers on a 30-year-old actress named Suzanne Vale, and follows her challenges as she overcomes her drug addiction, gets back into the swing of things, and falls in love, sort of.

    Moehringer grew up captivated by a voice. It was the voice of his father, a New York City disc jockey who vanished before J.R. spoke his first word. Sitting on the stoop, pressing an ear to the radio, J.R. would strain to hear in that plummy baritone the secrets of masculinity and identity. Though J.R.'s mother was his world, his rock, he craved something more, something faintly and hauntingly audible only in The Voice. At eight years old, suddenly unable to find The Voice on the radio, J.R. turned in desperation to the bar on the corner, where he found a rousing chorus of new voices. Cops and poets, bookies and soldiers, movie stars and stumblebums, all sorts of men gathered in the bar to tell their stories and forget their cares. The alphas along the bar—including J.R.'s Uncle Charlie, a Humphrey Bogart look-alike; Colt, a Yogi Bear sound-alike; and Joey D, a softhearted brawler—took J.R. to the beach, to ballgames, and ultimately into their circle. They taught J.R., tended him, and provided a kind of fatherhood-by-committee. Torn between the stirring example of his mother and the lurid romance of the bar, J.R. tried to forge a self somewhere in the center. But when it was time for J.R. to leave home, the bar became an increasingly seductive sanctuary, a place to return and regroup during his picaresque journeys—from his grandfather's tumbledown house to the hallowed towers and spires of Yale; from his absurd stint selling housewares at Lord & Taylor to his dream job at the New York Times, which became a nightmare when he found himself a faulty cog in a vast machine. Time and again the bar offered shelter from failure, rejection, heartbreak--and eventually from reality. In the grand tradition of landmark memoirs, The Tender Bar is suspenseful, wrenching, and achingly funny. A classic American story of self-invention and escape, of the fierce love between a single mother and an only son, it's also a moving portrait of one boy's struggle to become a man, and an unforgettable depiction of how men remain, at heart, lost boys.

    Like Mary Karr and Jerry Stahl, there is no line Mohr won't cross, either in his erstwhile quest for self-immolation, or his fearless honesty in reporting back from that time. But what sets this book apart is Mohr's unwillingness to traffic in pat notions of redemption."—Ron Currie, Jr."This isn't your average recovery memoir. Mohr's honesty in this book is astonishing and necessary, his candor about hitting bottom and relapsing deeply moving and important. It's a hell of a compelling read."—Cari LunaAcclaimed novelist Joshua Mohr provides a captivating and complicated account of his years of substance abuse and culpability in his non-fiction debut. Employing the characterization and chimerical prose for which he has been lauded, Mohr traces his childhood swilling fuzzy navels as a latch-key kid, through his first failed marriage, parenthood, heart-surgery, and his everyday struggle against relapse.Joshua Mohr is the author of Some Things that Meant the World to Me, one of Oprah Magazine's Top 10 reads of 2009 and a San Francisco Chronicle bestseller; Termite Parade, an Editors' Choice pick at the New York Times Book Review; Damascus, called "Beat-poet cool" by the New York Times; and, most recently, Fight Song and All This Life. He recently moved with his family to Seattle, Washington.

    A self-assured adman and former all-American lacrosse player (now part-time coach), he shines brightly, and his daughter appears content to live in his reflected glory.Kelly considers herself lucky for this great touchstone in her life, and her dad's can-do spirit becomes her greatest asset when she's diagnosed with breast cancer as a young mother. It is her dad's pluck and resolve that will see her through the oncoming battles -- including the realization that her "cure" will mean the end of her ability to bear children and her dream of having a large family of her own.Though Kelly writes of her husband and daughters, her mother and her brothers, it is her father's love that sustains her. And so, readers fear for her when she reveals that George has been diagnosed with cancer, too. It is at this nadir, facing not only her own mortality but her father's as well, that Kelly finally begins to emerge as a survivor -- a wife, a mother, and more herself. Yet, she will always be her father's daughter.(Spring 2008 Selection)

    He has forty children, and all of them have different mothers..."Jack Woodson was a thermal design engineer for four years until he was laid off from his job. Now, as a teacher, he faces new challenges. Conference calls have been replaced with parent conferences. Product testing has given way to standardized testing. Instead of business cards, Jack now passes out report cards. The only thing that hasn't changed noticeably is the maturity level of the people surrounding him all day.Learn Me Good is Jack's hilarious retelling of his harrowing rookie year, written as a series of emails to Fred Bommerson, his former engineering coworker. Inspired by real-life experiences of rambunctious and precocious children, lesson plans gone awry, and incredibly outrageous quotes, this laugh a minute page turner will give you a new appreciation for educators. Jack holds a March Mathness tournament, he faces a child's urgent declaration of "My bowels be runnin'!", and he mistakenly asks one girl's mother if she is her brother. With subject lines such as "Irritable Vowel Syndrome," "In math class, no one can hear you scream," and "I love the smell of Lysol in the morning," Jack fills each email with sarcastic (yet loving) humor, insightful observations, and plenty of irreverent wit.If you've ever taught, you will undoubtedly recognize aspects of your own students in Jack's classroom. If you've never set foot in a classroom, you will still appreciate the funny quirks, behaviors, and quotes from the kids and adults alike."I teach, therefore I am...poor!"

    Naus, is the author of Straight Pepper Diet, a harrowing and sometimes hilarious memoir about surviving the aftermath of sex and alcohol addiction. “On Tuesday, I was a respected civil trial lawyer making six-figures. On Wednesday, I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed … and then it got worse.”

    A deeply moving and emotional read, STRUNG OUT challenges our preconceived ideas of what addiction looks like.”—Stephanie Land, New York Times bestselling author of MaidIn this deeply personal and illuminating memoir about her fifteen-year struggle with heroin, Khar sheds profound light on the opioid crisis and gives a voice to the over two million people in America currently battling with this addiction.Growing up in LA, Erin Khar hid behind a picture-perfect childhood filled with excellent grades, a popular group of friends and horseback riding. After first experimenting with her grandmother’s expired painkillers, Khar started using heroin when she was thirteen. The drug allowed her to escape from pressures to be perfect and suppress all the heavy feelings she couldn’t understand.This fiercely honest memoir explores how heroin shaped every aspect of her life for the next fifteen years and details the various lies she told herself, and others, about her drug use. With enormous heart and wisdom, she shows how the shame and stigma surrounding addiction, which fuels denial and deceit, is so often what keeps addicts from getting help. There is no one path to recovery, and for Khar, it was in motherhood that she found the inner strength and self-forgiveness to quit heroin and fight for her life.Strung Out is a life-affirming story of resilience while also a gripping investigation into the psychology of addiction and why people turn to opioids in the first place.

    . . ."   With the candor and often hilarious outlook that have made her a beloved commentator on NPR, Marion Winik takes the reader on an unforgettable journey through modern parenthood, with all of its attendant anxieties and joys.        A single mother with two small boys, Winik knows exactly what she's talking about, from battles over breakfast and bedtime to the virtues of pre-packaged food and weightier issues like sex education and sibling rivalry. Part memoir and part survival guide, The Lunch-Box Chronicles is an engaging philosophy of parenting from a staunch realist, who knows that kids and their parents both will inevitably fall far short of perfection, and that a "good enough mom" really is, in fact, good enough.

    You've seen him on the street, in bars, on the subway, at restaurants: a twenty-something guy, nice suit, works in advertising. Regular. Ordinary. But when the ordinary person had two drinks, Augusten was circling the drain by having twelve; when the ordinary person went home at midnight, Augusten never went home at all. Loud, distracting ties, automated wake-up calls, and cologne on the tongue could only hide so much for so long. At the request (well, it wasn't really a request) of his employers, Augusten landed in rehab, where his dreams of group therapy with Robert Downey, Jr., are immediately dashed by the grim reality of fluorescent lighting and paper hospital slippers. But when Augusten is forced to examine himself, something actually starts to click, and that's when he finds himself in the worst trouble of all. Because when his thirty days are up, he has to return to his same drunken Manhattan life and live it sober. What follows is a memoir that's as moving as it is funny, as heartbreaking as it is real.