The book begins with a review of the author's early years, revealing new and telling details about his upbringing at the hands of two brilliant but often careless parents, including a riveting section about their harrowing experiences as expatriates in Spain just before the Second World War.But most of the book focuses on the past fifteen years since Bio of an Ogre (the first volume of his autobiography) was published, a time both of personal progress and professional frustration for Anthony, as his works became increasingly ambitious while his sales began to slow. He offers cautionary tales on the pitfalls of the "bottom line" publishing mentality, as well as scathing portraits of several well-known publishing figures.Candid, opinionated and endlessly fascinating, How Precious Was That While is an intimate self-portrait by one of the most intriguing writers of our time.

    These persons also blocked her appointment as police commissioner. This kind of sabotage was the proverbial last straw that compelled her to 'shake off the shackles'. After a long and rewarding innings (35 years in all), Kiran Bedi decided to move on. She believed that she could no longer work with persons who were keeping the system enslaved. She was clear in her mind that she was not going to be subordinated by this team of saboteurs. What direction and leadership would such persons provide except to create pygmies and stifle initiative and crush morale? She did not want to be a part of such dubious 'history'. As she asserts: 'My self-respect, my innate sense of justice and my beliefs and values in life propelled me to throw off the "yokes" that were already obstructing my growth and I now made up my mind to set myself free and be a master of my own time.' This is a no-holds-barred narrative packed with punch, spirit and vitality. Chosen as 'India's most admired woman', Kiran Bedi is a highly recognized and decorated police officer, who has won several accolades, including the Ramon Magsaysay Award for Government Service. Throughout her career, Kiran Bedi (who joined the Indian Police Service in 1972) dared to remain innovative to meet the challenges posed by her different assignments: be it policing, managing prisons or imparting training. She won the admiration and respect of millions, both outside and within India.

    Stunned and grieving, she decided to pursue her husband's dream of becoming a Unitarian minister, and eventually began working with the Maine Game Warden Service, which conducts the state's search and rescue operations when people go missing in the wilderness. Whether she is with parents whose 6-year-old daughter has wandered into the woods, or wardens as they search for a snowmobile rider gone under ice, or a man whose sister left an infant seat and a suicide note in her car by the side of the road, Braestrup provides solace, comfort, and spiritual guidance when it's needed most. And she comes to discover that giving comfort is both a high calling and a precious gift.In her account of her own life and the events of her unusual job, sometimes joyful, sometimes heartbreaking, Braestrup is warm, unsentimental ("No one is immune to the Plucky Widow story!" she acknowledges), and generous. Here If You Need Me is a funny, frank, and deeply moving story of faith and hope.

    It was a relationship which Gide exalted-- he termed it the central drama of his existance-- yet deliberately shrouded in mystery. This was no ordinary marriage. Madeleine Rondeaux, two years older than her cousin Andre Gide, became his wife after Gide's first visit to Algeria. In his "Journal", Gide refers to her as Emmanuele or as Em. Only in this book, written after her death and published a few months after his own death, does Gide call her by her real name and painfully reveal hte nature of their life together. In French, the book was published as "Et Nunc Manet in Te"-- from the line attributed to Virgil concerning the lost Eurydice, "and now she remains in you".All of Gide's vast work may be viewed as a confession, impelled by his need to write what he believed to be true about himself. In "Madeleine" this act of confession reaches a crowning point. It isa complex tale by a complex man about a complex relationship.

     Barbara Robinette Moss grew up in the red clay hills of Alabama, the fourth of eight children, in a childhood defined by close sibling alliances, staggering poverty, and uncommon abuse at the hands of her wild-eyed, charismatic, alcoholic father. In Fierce, Moss looks at what happens when a child of such a family grows up. At once poetic and plainspoken, Moss, a "powerful writer" (Chicago Tribune), paints a vivid, moving portrait of her persistent quest to reinvent her life and rebel against the rural indigence, addiction, and broken dreams she inherited from her parents. With warmth, insight, and candor, Moss tells the poignant story of finally leaving everything she knew in Alabama to fulfill her ambition to become an artist. It is an odyssey filled with gritty improvisation (bringing her son, Jason, to her night job to sleep on the floor), bittersweet pragmatism (filling her purse on a dinner date with shrimp, rolls, and even a doily, to bring home to a waiting eight-year-old), and staunch conviction and pride (chasing a mail carrier down the street to defend her use of food stamps). As with many other children of alcoholics, the legacy of her father's alcoholism catches up with Moss, and an abusive relationship -- an inheritance and addiction of its own sort -- threatens to destroy all that she has accomplished. But as Moss learns to cope with her anger and pain, parenthood helps her discover true strength. Ultimately, Fierce is a warm, honest, and triumphant story, from a writer celebrated for her Southern lyricism, about a woman determined to make it on her own -- to shrug off the handicaps of her childhood and raise her son responsibly and well.

    Abandoned at age four, nameless, homeless, and utterly alone, this child of destiny roamed the bleak, war-ravaged countryside of South Korea for three years and was finally left for dead. But God had other plans.

    But after a devastatingly difficult winter, with sky high bills, she didn't know if she could afford to carry on - or if she had the physical strength to keep going. Then, in the first week of January, the phone rang. A donkey had been abandoned 130 miles away. Rushing to his rescue Tracy found Alan - forlorn, balding and shivering - tethered up tightly in a supermarket car park. Barely able to walk on his painfully overgrown hooves, he had been left to die. Tracy ran her hands gently over Alan's protruding ribs, and whispered in his ear: 'Don't worry boy, I won't give up on you.' Over the next twelve months, as Tracy grappled with attacks from vandals and perilous flash floods and desperately tried to raise money, Alan gradually recovered - turning into a loveable rogue. As Christmas rolled around, Tracy was too worried about the future to enjoy the festive season. She had no idea that the shy skinny animal she'd rescued was going to give her the greatest gift of all . . . For animal lovers everywhere, Alan The Christmas Donkey is a funny, warm and inspiring read.

    Illuminating, completely engaging—it's essential reading for all since we all know someone whose life, family or friends are touched by the disease that directly afflicts a fifth of Canadians. In her early twenties, while outwardly thriving in her dream job and enjoying warm familial support and a strong social network, award-winning journalist Anna Mehler Paperny found herself trapped by feelings of failure and despair. Her first suicide attempt—ingesting a deadly mix of sleeping pills and antifreeze—landed her in the ICU, followed by weeks of enforced detention that ran the gamut of horrifying, boring, hilarious, and absurd. This was Anna's entry into the labyrinthine psychiatric care system responsible for providing care to millions of Canadians.As she struggled to survive the psych ward and as an outpatient—enduring the "survivor's" shame of facing concerned family, friends, and co-workers; finding (or not) the right therapist, the right meds; staying healthy, insured, and employed—Anna could not help but turn her demanding journalist's eye on her condition and on the system in which she found herself. She set off on a quest to "know her enemy," interviewing leading practitioners in the field across Canada and the US—from psychiatrists to neurological experts, brain-mapping pioneers to heroic family practitioners, and others dabbling in novel hypotheses. She reveals in courageously frank detail her own experiences with the pharmacological pitfalls and side effects of long-term treatment, and offers moving case studies of conversations with others, opening wide a window into how we treat (and fail to treat) the disease that accounts for more years swallowed up by disability than any other in the world.

    The tumour was located in the area of the brain that controls speech and language, and would eventually rob him of the ability to speak. Tom was 53 when he died, leaving Marion and their son Eugene, just two years old, alone. In short bursts of beautiful, textured prose, Coutts describes the eighteen months leading up to Tom's death. The Iceberg is an unflinching, honest exploration of staring death in the face, finding solace in strange places, finding beauty and even joy in the experience of dying. Written with extraordinary narrative force and power, it is almost shocking in its rawness. Nothing is kept from the reader: the fury, the occasional spells of selfishness, the indignity of being trapped in a hopeless situation. It is a story of pain and sadness, but also an uplifting and life-affirming tale of great fortitude, courage, determination – and above all, love.

    From canoe camping next to unnamed lakes, to kayaking in Alaska’s pristine waters, she describes her many encounters with the bears, moose and other animals that make this wilderness their home. With her partner David she helped to build a cabin on a remote piece of property, off the grid and accessible only by boat. Illustrated with the photos she took along the way, her story is sometimes comic, and sometimes tragic, but throughout its pages she speaks with the voice of one who loves nature and the wilderness.

    Forced to adapt to a life alone, Abigail finds solace at home, discovering that friends, family and dogs can reshape a life of chaos into one that makes sense - a life full of its own richness and beauty.

    He opted for an epic adventure. In the summer of 2001, Dan, Zoe, and Kolya packed up and set off on a six-month tour to see the world's most exotic and endangered habitats.Monkey Dancing takes readers along for this incredible journey. From the python-infested rivers of Borneo to the highest summits of Bali, from Nepal's Gangeatic Plains to Australia's Great Barrier Reef, Glick recounts the adventures they met with, the challenges they confronted, and how they learned to cope with grief, loss, and one another. Along the way, he offers intimate reflection on life, fatherhood, change, and the fragile health of our troubled planet. Acclaimed by reviewers, a BookSense Parenting bestseller, Monkey Dancing is a "poignant, affirming, ultimately courageous book"—Audubon Magazine.

    This book is the deeply affecting story of the period that immediately followed - the grief, fears, doubts, and readjustments that a woman must make before crossing the bridge that spans marriage and widowhood.

    At first she thinks her parents don't have the best ideas, but soon she begins to realize the importance of her father's work. Botswana has the highest rate of HIV infection in the world, but still no one wants to talk about it and, for once, Scott is proud that her parents are willing to be unconventional.