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"Zinoviev's new book is less gargantuan (how could it not be?) than the enormous The Yawning Heights. And though it has a central metaphor--a crumbling, vandalized, massive sign placed in Moscow's Cosmonaut Square that reads "Long Live Communism--The Radiant Future of All Mankind"--realism and philosophy are more in evidence than comic allegory. The narrator is the Head of the Department of Theoretical Problems of the Methodology of Scientific Communism at The Human Sciences Institute of the Academy of Sciences. He has an estranged wife (with whom he lives, Moscow housing-arrangements being what they are), two teenaged children, a mother-in-law, and a burning itch to be elected an Academician. But, complicatingly, he also has friends, one who's trying to get an exit visa and another, Anton Zimin, who has written a book which postulates, for instance: "I believe that the brightest dreams and ideals of mankind, when they are realized in concrete form, produce the most disastrous consequences." Anton's totally subversive view of Soviet life is focused on the "horrifying normality" of it; he is totally non-ideological, hence clear-sighted enough to cause anything he looks at to shrivel up. And the narrator, egged on by his more or less dissident children, finds himself more and more in agreement with his dangerous friends: he never does make Academician, of course, as the complementary forces of his mediocrity and his self-disgust conspire to leave him stranded. The narrator's dilemma and his Russian schlemeil-dom, however, are the least distinctive aspects of this second, smaller, less exuberant Zinoviev book. What counts instead here is the pure play of ideas: weaving in great chunks of both official (canned) and truly biting social philosophy, Zinoviev has created a kind of divorced, muffler-ed intellectual comedy--which will be most clear and satisfying to veterans of The Yawning Heights."--Kirkus.
Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. HeathcliffÕs dwelling. ÔWutheringÕ being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones. Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date Ô1500,Õ and the name ÔHareton Earnshaw.Õ I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium. One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here Ôthe houseÕ pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.
First Published in 2004. Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis, an informa company.
'What I've learned from climbing mountains is that we can push ourselves far beyond what we think we are capable of, and it's outside of our comfort zones that the most amazing things happen.' What drives us to go to our limits and beyond? What does it take to make dreams come true over all else? And how can you turn fear into courage? From Everest to K2, The Girl Who Climbed Everest is the story of Bonita Norris' journey undertaking the world's toughest and most dangerous expeditions. Once an anxious teenager with an eating disorder it was the discovery of a passion for climbing that inspired Bonita to change her life. Drawing on her experiences to capture the agonies - both mental and physical - and joys of her incredible feats Bonita also imparts the lessons learned encouraging you to harness greater self-belief. The Girl Who Climbed Everest is an honest exploration of everything Bonita has learnt from climbing. Life lessons about ambition, values, risk, happiness, the courage to fail, and what's ultimately important. An indispensable and important book for anyone who has ever doubted their potential or put limits on themselves - whatever challenge you face or ambitions you want to achieve, The Girl Who Climbed Everest will inspire you to take action and live life more fearlessly.
"In his first published novel, Soviet philosopher Alexander Zinoviev chose to satirize and ridicule Soviet society in Yawning Heights, presented as the city/nation of Ibansk. Every Ibanskian citizen is named Iban Ibanovich Ibanov, and therefore goes by a nickname as Chatterer, Slanderer, Boss, Hog, Truthteller, Dauber, Sociologist, and many others. Truth Teller is obviously Alexander Solzhenitsyn, the Boss is Stalin, Hog is Khrushchev. Lesser characters are more difficult to figure out. Ibansk roughly translates into English as 'Screw Town of (or for) all Ivans'. Their political religion is called the Ism (which is short for Soc-ism), and nobody really believes in it. When it was written the book was essentially a superlative description of the Soviet Union."--Goodreads
An instant New York Times bestseller • A New York Times Notable Book of 2022 • Named a Best Book of 2022 by People, TIME Magazine, The Washington Post, USA Today, NPR, Los Angeles Times, and Oprah Daily, and more • A Reese's Book Club Pick • New York Times Paperback Row Selection From the #1 bestselling author of Little Fires Everywhere, comes the inspiring new novel about a mother’s unshakeable love. “It’s impossible not to be moved.” —Stephen King, The New York Times Book Review “Riveting, tender, and timely.” —People, Book of the Week “Thought-provoking, heart-wrenching . . . I was so invested in the future of this mother and son, and I can’t wait to hear what you think of this deeply suspenseful story!” —Reese Witherspoon (Reese’s Book Club Pick) Twelve-year-old Bird Gardner lives a quiet existence with his loving father, a former linguist who now shelves books in a university library. His mother Margaret, a Chinese American poet, left without a trace when he was nine years old. He doesn’t know what happened to her—only that her books have been banned—and he resents that she cared more about her work than about him. Then one day, Bird receives a mysterious letter containing only a cryptic drawing, and soon he is pulled into a quest to find her. His journey will take him back to the many folktales she poured into his head as a child, through the ranks of an underground network of heroic librarians, and finally to New York City, where he will finally learn the truth about what happened to his mother, and what the future holds for them both. Our Missing Hearts is an old story made new, of the ways supposedly civilized communities can ignore the most searing injustice. It’s about the lessons and legacies we pass on to our children, and the power of art to create change.
Historians have given a great deal of attention to the lives and experiences of Civil War soldiers, but surprisingly little is known about navy sailors who participated in the conflict. Michael J. Bennett remedies the longstanding neglect of Civil War seamen in this comprehensive assessment of the experience of common Union sailors from 1861 to 1865. To resurrect the voices of the "Union Jacks," Bennett combed sailors' diaries, letters, and journals. He finds that the sailors differed from their counterparts in the army in many ways. They tended to be a rougher bunch of men than the regular soldiers, drinking and fighting excessively. Those who were not foreign-born, escaped slaves, or unemployed at the time they enlisted often hailed from the urban working class rather than from rural farms and towns. In addition, most sailors enlisted for pragmatic rather than ideological reasons. Bennett's examination provides a look into the everyday lives of sailors and illuminates where they came from, why they enlisted, and how their origins shaped their service. By showing how these Union sailors lived and fought on the sea, Bennett brings an important new perspective to our understanding of the Civil War.