2011, ISBN: 9781408812099

Atria Books. Very Good. 24 x 16cm. Hardcover. 2007. 464 pages. <br>In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, c olor your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen min… Mehr…

Atria Books. Very Good. 24 x 16cm. Hardcover. 2007. 464 pages. <br>In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, c olor your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minut es, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you c an fold laundry for a family of five....In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off it. In nineteen minu tes, you can get revenge. Sterling is a small, ordinary New Hamp shire town where nothing ever happens -- until the day its compla cency is shattered by a shocking act of violence. In the aftermat h, the town's residents must not only seek justice in order to be gin healing but also come to terms with the role they played in t he tragedy. For them, the lines between truth and fiction, right and wrong, insider and outsider have been obscured forever. Josie Cormier, the teenage daughter of the judge sitting on the case, could be the state's best witness, but she can't remember what ha ppened in front of her own eyes. And as the trial progresses, fau lt lines between the high school and the adult community begin to show, destroying the closest of friendships and families. Ninet een Minutes is New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult's m ost raw, honest, and important novel yet. Told with the straightf orward style for which she has become known, it asks simple quest ions that have no easy answers: Can your own child become a myste ry to you? What does it mean to be different in our society? Is i t ever okay for a victim to strike back? And who -- if anyone -- has the right to judge someone else? Editorial Reviews Amazon.c om Review Best known for tackling controversial issues through ri chly told fictional accounts, Jodi Picoult's 14th novel, Nineteen Minutes, deals with the truth and consequences of a smalltown hi gh-school shooting. Set in Sterling, New Hampshire, Picoult offer s reads a glimpse of what would cause a 17-year-old to wake up on e day, load his backpack with four guns, and kill nine students a nd one teacher in the span of nineteen minutes. As with any Picou lt novel, the answers are never black and white, and it is her ex ceptional ability to blur the lines between right and wrong that make this author such a captivating storyteller. On Peter Hough ton's first day of kindergarten, he watched helplessly as an olde r boy ripped his lunch box out of his hands and threw it out the window. From that day on, his life was a series of humiliations, from having his pants pulled down in the cafeteria, to being call ed a freak at every turn. But can endless bullying justify murder ? As Picoult attempts to answer this question, she shows us all s ides of the equation, from the ruthless jock who loses his abilit y to speak after being shot in the head, to the mother who both b lames and pities herself for producing what most would call a mon ster. Surrounding Peter's story is that of Josie Cormier, a forme r friend whose acceptance into the popular crowd hangs on a strin g that makes it impossible for her to reconcile her beliefs with her actions. At times, Nineteen Minutes can seem tediously ster eotypical-- jocks versus nerds, parent versus child, teacher vers us student. Part of Picoult's gift is showing us the subtleties o f these common dynamics, and the startling effects they often hav e on the moral landscape. As Peter's mother says at the end of th is spellbinding novel, Everyone would remember Peter for nineteen minutes of his life, but what about the other nine million? --Gi sele Toueg From Publishers Weekly Starred Review. Bestseller Pi coult (My Sister's Keeper) takes on another contemporary hot-butt on issue in her brilliantly told new thriller, about a high schoo l shooting. Peter Houghton, an alienated teen who has been bullie d for years by the popular crowd, brings weapons to his high scho ol in Sterling, N.H., one day and opens fire, killing 10 people. Flashbacks reveal how bullying caused Peter to retreat into a wor ld of violent computer games. Alex Cormier, the judge assigned to Peter's case, tries to maintain her objectivity as she struggles to understand her daughter, Josie, one of the surviving witnesse s of the shooting. The author's insights into her characters' dee p-seated emotions brings this ripped-from-the-headlines read chil lingly alive. (Mar.) Copyright ® Reed Business Information, a di vision of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From Publisher s Weekly Starred Review. Bestseller Picoult (My Sister's Keeper) takes on another contemporary hot-button issue in her brilliantly told new thriller, about a high school shooting. Peter Houghton, an alienated teen who has been bullied for years by the popular crowd, brings weapons to his high school in Sterling, N.H., one d ay and opens fire, killing 10 people. Flashbacks reveal how bully ing caused Peter to retreat into a world of violent computer game s. Alex Cormier, the judge assigned to Peter's case, tries to mai ntain her objectivity as she struggles to understand her daughter , Josie, one of the surviving witnesses of the shooting. The auth or's insights into her characters' deep-seated emotions brings th is ripped-from-the-headlines read chillingly alive. (Mar.) Copyr ight ® Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc . All rights reserved. From Bookmarks Magazine Nobody does 'ripp ed from the headlines' better than Picoult, claims the Christian Science Monitor, and in her 14th book she takes on the sensitive, disturbing topic of school shootings. This is a raw subject for many, and reviewers were quick to note that this intense novel is not for the squeamish. Fans of Picoult (My Sister's Keeper,***1/ 2 July/Aug 2004) will recognize the setting, some of the characte rs, and her trademark, jaw-dropping plot twists as she explores t he events leading up to and following the tragedy. Reviewers appl auded her ability to make readers sympathize as much with the sho oter as with his targets, blending the lines of aggressor and vic tim with ease. Those who dare to venture into such dark territory will be richly rewarded. Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Med ia, Inc. From Booklist Popular and prolific Picoult (My Sister's Keeper, and The Tenth Circle , 2006) now tackles the troubling t opic of a school shooting. Picoult considers the tragedy--in 19 q uick minutes, 10 are dead and 19 are wounded--from several differ ent perspectives, including that of the shooter, a troubled boy n amed Peter, who was mercilessly picked on at school. The small to wn of Sterling is rocked by the carnage. Alex Cormier is the supe rior court judge planning to hear the case, but her daughter, Jos ie, Peter's only friend during childhood but now a member of the in crowd, was in the midst of the melee. Peter spared Josie, but killed her boyfriend. Two characters from previous Picoult novels are also involved. Charismatic detective Patrick DuCharme rushes into the school and apprehends Peter, and Jordan McAfee agrees t o defend the young killer. Every bit as gripping and moving as Pi coult's previous novels, Nineteen Minutes will no doubt garner co nsiderable attention for its controversial subject and twist endi ng. Kristine Huntley Copyright © American Library Association. Al l rights reserved Review A master of the craft of storytelling. -- AP Newswire Picoult spins fast-paced tales of family dysfunct ion, betrayal, and redemption.... [Her] depiction of these rites of contemporary adolescence is exceptional: unflinching, unjudgme ntal, utterly chilling. -- The Washington Post Jodi Picoult's bo oks explore all the shades of gray in a world too often judged in black and white. -- St. Louis Post-Dispatch About the Author Jo di Picoult received an AB in creative writing from Princeton and a master's degree in education from Harvard. The recipient of the 2003 New England Book Award for her entire body of work, she is the author of twenty-six novels, including the #1 New York Times bestsellers House Rules, Handle With Care, Change of Heart, and M y Sister's Keeper, for which she received the American Library As sociation's Margaret Alexander Edwards Award. She lives in New Ha mpshire with her husband and three children. Visit her website at JodiPicoult.com. From The Washington Post Reviewed by Frances T aliaferro Early in Nineteen Minutes, Detective Patrick Ducharme walks through a deserted crime scene. Artifacts have been left be hind: the Wonder-bread sandwiches scarred by only one bite; the t ub of Cherry Bomb lip gloss . . . the salt-and-pepper composition notebooks filled with study sheets on Aztec civilization and mar gin notes about the current one: I luv Zach S!!! It's eerily ordi nary -- until you notice the dead bodies. This is the cafeteria of Sterling (N.H.) High School, shortly after a gunman has killed 10 people and wounded many others. His rampage lasted 19 minutes . As the prosecutor will later point out, In nineteen minutes, yo u can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hoc key game. You can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist. You can fold laundry for a family of five. Or . . . you can brin g the world to a screeching halt. There's never any doubt that t he gunman was Peter Houghton, a 17-year-old student. Hundreds of witnesses confirm it. Now, justice must be accomplished -- proper ly, and not by an angry mob. It won't be easy in this small town where everybody is connected. Peter's mother, for instance, is th e midwife who delivered Josie Cormier. Peter and Josie were best friends until puberty hit and Josie became a cool girl while Pete r remained a nerd. Matt Royston, Josie's dazzling boyfriend, was Peter's last victim. Josie's mother, Alex Cormier, is the judge w ho will try Peter's case -- unless she can be brought to recuse h erself. And these are only the most salient connections. Dozens o f others must be traced as the authorities piece together why the shooting happened. Parent-child relationships are central to Ni neteen Minutes. When you're a teenager, the fact of parents is un avoidable, even when they're not very good at being parents. For Josie's single mother, it's easy to be a judge and hard to be a m other; everything she says comes out wrong. To Peter, his parents seem equally inept and obtuse. But then, most adolescents find t heir parents wanting; so how does a normal teenage worldview turn into a homicidal one? As Picoult answers this question, the soc iology of Sterling High School comes to life: nerds and jocks and brains, adults from another planet, school as heaven or hell. Fo r many of us, high school meant self-discovery complicated by acn e, prom anxiety and the perfidy of other teenagers. Though we've never been homecoming queen or most valuable player, we've made o ur peace with our own uncoolness. But at Sterling, a nerd doesn't have that relief. Bullying doesn't officially exist -- ask any g rown-up -- but if you're a nerd, you know what to expect. At the very least, cool girls will look at you as if you were a bug on t he windshield. If you're lucky, the abuse will be verbal: The guy s will call you freak or homo or retard. On a bad day, they'll cr ush your glasses or stuff you into a locker. Torment could come f rom any direction at any time, and you live in the adolescent ver sion of post-traumatic stress disorder. For some adult characters in the novel, this diagnosis is news, but no teenager would be s urprised to hear it. Certainly the reader is not surprised to he ar about HIDE-N-SHRIEK, the video game Peter created, in which th e underdog gets a chance to annihilate the bullies with weapons f ound in any school building. Peter's ingenuity is appalling and p athetic and almost valiant; like Josie, he's a person of moral co mplexity. The adult characters, however, tend to be one-sided a nd given to making snappy comebacks with a frequency that's enter taining but not plausible. The judge has such gumption and good s ense that her refrain of maternal inadequacy just doesn't ring tr ue. Picoult is the author of 13 other novels, most of them widel y popular, but I came to Nineteen Minutes with no previous Picoul t experience. It's absorbing and expertly made. On one level, it' s a thriller, complete with dismaying carnage, urgent discoveries and 11th-hour revelations, but it also asks serious moral questi ons about the relationship between the weak and the strong, quest ions that provide what school people call teachable moments. If c ompassion can be taught, Picoult may be just the one to teach it. Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved. Ex cerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Nineteen Minutes A novelBy Jodi Picoult Atria Copyright © 2007Jodi Picou lt All right reserved. ISBN: 9780743496728 March 6, 2007 In nine teen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scone s or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five. Nineteen minutes is how long it took the Tenness ee Titans to sell out of tickets to the play-offs. It's the lengt h of a sitcom, minus the commercials. It's the driving distance f rom the Vermont border to the town of Sterling, New Hampshire. I n nineteen minutes, you can order a pizza and get it delivered. Y ou can read a story to a child or have your oil changed. You can walk a mile. You can sew a hem. In nineteen minutes, you can sto p the world, or you can just jump off it. In nineteen minutes, y ou can get revenge. As usual, Alex Cormier was running late. It took thirty-two minutes to drive from her house in Sterling to th e superior court in Grafton County, New Hampshire, and that was o nly if she speeded through Orford. She hurried downstairs in her stockings, carrying her heels and the files she'd brought home wi th her over the weekend. She twisted her thick copper hair into a knot and anchored it at the base of her neck with bobby pins, tr ansforming herself into the person she needed to be before she le ft her house. Alex had been a superior court judge now for thirt y-four days. She'd believed that, having proved her mettle as a d istrict court judge for the past five years, this time around the appointment might be easier. But at forty, she was still the you ngest judge in the state. She still had to fight to establish her self as a fair justice -- her history as a public defender preced ed her into her courtroom, and prosecutors assumed she'd side wit h the defense. When Alex had sub, Atria Books, 2007, 3, A&C Black. Good. 153 x 234 x 27mm. Hardback. 2011. 304 pages. Ex-library<br>It's time to stop just worrying about cl imate change, says Paul Gilding. Instead we need to brace for imp act, because global crisis is no longer avoidable. The 'Great Dis ruption' started in 2008, with spiking food and oil prices and dr amatic ecological change like the melting polar icecap. It is not simply about fossil fuels and carbon footprints. We have come to the end of Economic Growth, Version 1.0, a world economy based o n consumption and waste, where we lived beyond the means of our p lanet's ecosystems and resources. The Great Disruption offers a stark and unflinching look at the challenge humanity faces - yet also a deeply optimistic message. The coming decades will see lo ss, suffering and conflict as our planetary overdraft is paid. Ho wever, they will also bring out the best humanity can offer: comp assion, innovation, resilience and adaptability. Gilding tells us how to fight, and win, what he calls 'the One Degree War' to pre vent catastrophic warming of the earth, and how to start today. The crisis we are in represents a rare chance to replace our add iction to growth with an ethic of sustainability, and it's alread y happening. It's also an unmatched business opportunity: old ind ustries will collapse while new companies literally reshape our e conomy. In the aftermath of the Great Disruption, we will measure 'growth' in a new way. It will mean not quantity of stuff, but q uality, and happiness, of life. And, yes, there is life after sho pping. The Great Disruption is an invigorating and well-informe d polemic by an advocate for sustainability and climate change wh o has dedicated his life to campaigning for a balanced use of Ear th's limited resources. It is essential reading. ., A&C Black, 2011, 2.5<

2012, ISBN: 9781408812099

Gebundene Ausgabe

Cornerstone. Very Good. 6.02 x 1.14 x 9.21 inches. Paperback. 2012. 576 pages. <br>Wool is frightening, fascinating, and addictive. I n one word, terrific. - Kathy Reichs, author of… Mehr…

Cornerstone. Very Good. 6.02 x 1.14 x 9.21 inches. Paperback. 2012. 576 pages. <br>Wool is frightening, fascinating, and addictive. I n one word, terrific. - Kathy Reichs, author of the Temperance Br ennan and Tory Brennan series In a ruined and toxic landscape, a community exists in a giant silo underground, hundreds of stories deep. There, men and women live in a society full of regulations they believe are meant to protect them. Sheriff Holston, who has unwaveringly upheld the silo's rules for years, unexpectedly bre aks the greatest taboo of all: He asks to go outside. His fateful decision unleashes a drastic series of events. An unlikely candi date is appointed to replace him: Juliette, a mechanic with no tr aining in law, whose special knack is fixing machines. Now Juliet te is about to be entrusted with fixing her silo, and she will so on learn just how badly her world is broken. The silo is about to confront what its history has only hinted about and its inhabita nts have never dared to whisper. Uprising. Editorial Reviews Re view Exilharating, intense, addictive.--S.J. Watson In Wool, Hug h Howey delivers the key elements of great science fiction: an au thentic and detailed futureworld; realistic, relatable characters to live in it; and taut, thoughtful stories that spring naturall y from the plight of the people struggling to get by in the grim world of the Silos. Howey's supple, muscular writing is the icing on the cake - and the reason why Wool has become a huge internat ional blockbuster.--Jonathan Hayes, author of A HARD DEATH If yo u're looking for a good post-apocalyptic read, you can't do much better than Wool.--Rick Riordan In Wool, Hugh Howey delivers the key elements of great science fiction: an authentic and detailed future-world; realistic, relatable characters to live in it; and a taut, thoughtful story. Howey's supple, muscular writing is th e icing on the cake.--Jonathan Hayes, author of A HARD DEATH How ey's WOOL is an epic feat of imagination. You will live in this w orld.--Justin Cronin, bestselling author of THE PASSAGE Secrets unfold with just the right pacing... If you're looking for a good post-apocalyptic read, you can't do much better than WOOL.--Rick Riordan, bestselling author of the Percy Jackson & the Olympians series With WOOL Hugh Howey has created a new science fiction c lassic.--Ernest Cline, bestselling author of READY PLAYER ONE Ex ilharating, intense, addictive.--S.J. Watson, bestselling author of BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP In WOOL, Hugh Howey delivers the key ele ments of great science fiction: an authentic and detailed future- world; realistic, relatable characters to live in it; and a taut, thoughtful story. Howey's supple, muscular writing is the icing on the cake.--Jonathan Hayes, author of A HARD DEATH WOOL is inc redible. This is the best science fiction series I've read in yea rs. Not since A Canticle for Leibowitz have I been so utterly and completely enthralled.--Douglas Preston, #1 bestselling author o f Blasphemy and The Monster of Florence --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. About the Aut hor Hugh Howey wrote Wool while working as a bookseller, writing each morning and during every lunch break for nearly three years. Originally self-published in 2011, Wool has grown into a New Yor k Times blockbuster. He now lives in Jupiter, Florida, with his w ife, Amber, and their dog, Bella. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Excerpt. ® Reprinte d by permission. All rights reserved. One The children were pla ying while Holston climbed to his death; he could hear them squea ling as only happy children do. While they thundered about franti cally above, Holston took his time, each step methodical and pond erous, as he wound his way around and around the spiral staircase , old boots ringing out on metal treads. The treads, like his f ather's boots, showed signs of wear. Paint clung to them in feebl e chips, mostly in the corners and undersides, where they were sa fe. Traffic elsewhere on the staircase sent dust shivering off in small clouds. Holston could feel the vibrations in the railing, which was worn down to the gleaming metal. That always amazed him : how centuries of bare palms and shuffling feet could wear down solid steel. One molecule at a time, he supposed. Each life might wear away a single layer, even as the silo wore away that life. Each step was slightly bowed from generations of traffic, the e dge rounded down like a pouting lip. In the center, there was alm ost no trace of the small diamonds that once gave the treads thei r grip. Their absence could only be inferred from the pattern to either side, the small pyramidal bumps rising from the flat steel with their crisp edges and flecks of paint. Holston lifted an old boot to an old step, pressed down, and did it again. He lost himself in what the untold years had done, the ablation of molecu les and lives, layers and layers ground to fine dust. And he thou ght, not for the first time, that neither life nor staircase had been meant for such an existence. The tight confines of that long spiral, threading through the buried silo like a straw in a glas s, had not been built for such abuse. Like much of their cylindri cal home, it seemed to have been made for other purposes, for fun ctions long since forgotten. What was now used as a thoroughfare for thousands of people, moving up and down in repetitious daily cycles, seemed more apt in Holston's view to be used only in emer gencies and perhaps by mere dozens. Another floor went by--a pi e-shaped division of dormitories. As Holston ascended the last fe w levels, this last climb he would ever take, the sounds of child like delight rained down even louder from above. This was the lau ghter of youth, of souls who had not yet come to grips with where they lived, who did not yet feel the press of the earth on all s ides, who in their minds were not buried at all, but alive. Alive and unworn, dripping happy sounds down the stairwell, trills tha t were incongruous with Holston's actions, his decision and deter mination to go outside. As he neared the upper level, one young voice rang out above the others, and Holston remembered being a child in the silo--all the schooling and the games. Back then, th e stuffy concrete cylinder had felt, with its floors and floors o f apartments and workshops and hydroponic gardens and purificatio n rooms with their tangles of pipes, like a vast universe, a wide expanse one could never fully explore, a labyrinth he and his fr iends could get lost in forever. But those days were more than thirty years distant. Holston's childhood now felt like something two or three lifetimes ago, something someone else had enjoyed. Not him. He had an entire lifetime as sheriff weighing heavy, blo cking off that past. And more recently, there was this third stag e of his life--a secret life beyond childhood and being sheriff. It was the last layers of himself ground to dust; three years spe nt silently waiting for what would never come, each day longer th an any month from his happier lifetimes. At the top of the spir al stairway, Holston's hand ran out of railing. The curvy bar of worn steel ended as the stairwell emptied into the widest rooms o f the entire silo complex: the cafeteria and the adjoining lounge . The playful squeals were level with him now. Darting bright sha pes zagged between scattered chairs, playing chase. A handful of adults tried to contain the chaos. Holston saw Emma picking up sc attered chalk and crayon from the stained tiles. Her husband, Cla rke, sat behind a table arranged with cups of juice and bowls of cornflour cookies. He waved at Holston from across the room. Ho lston didn't think to wave back, didn't have the energy or the de sire. He looked past the adults and playing children to the blurr y view beyond, projected on the cafeteria wall. It was the larges t uninterrupted vista of their inhospitable world. A morning scen e. Dawn's dim light coated lifeless hills that had hardly changed since Holston was a boy. They sat, just as they always had, whil e he had gone from playing chase among the cafeteria tables to wh atever empty thing he was now. And beyond the stately rolling cre sts of these hills, the top of a familiar and rotting skyline cau ght the morning rays in feeble glints. Ancient glass and steel st ood distantly where people, it was suspected, had once lived abov eground. A child, ejected from the group like a comet, bumped i nto Holston's knees. He looked down and moved to touch the kid--S usan's boy--but just like a comet the child was gone again, pulle d back into the orbit of the others. Holston thought suddenly o f the lottery he and Allison had won the year of her death. He st ill had the ticket; he carried it everywhere. One of these kids-- maybe he or she would be two by now and tottering after the older children--could've been theirs. They had dreamed, like all paren ts do, of the double fortune of twins. They had tried, of course. After her implant was removed, they had spent night after glorio us night trying to redeem that ticket, other parents wishing them luck, other lottery hopefuls silently praying for an empty year to pass. Knowing they only had a year, he and Allison had invit ed superstition into their lives, looking to anything for help. T ricks, like hanging garlic over the bed, that supposedly increase d fertility; two dimes under the mattress for twins; a pink ribbo n in Allison's hair; smudges of blue dye under Holston's eyes--al l of it ridiculous and desperate and fun. The only thing crazier would have been to not try everything, to leave some silly séance or tale untested. But it wasn't to be. Before their year was e ven out, the lottery had passed to another couple. It hadn't been for a lack of trying; it had been a lack of time. A sudden lack of wife. Holston turned away from the games and the blurry view and walked toward his office, situated between the cafeteria and the silo's airlock. As he covered that ground, his thoughts went to the struggle that once took place there, a struggle of ghosts he'd had to walk through every day for the last three years. And he knew, if he turned and hunted that expansive view on the wall , if he squinted past the ever-worsening blur of cloudy camera le nses and airborne grime, if he followed that dark crease up the h ill, that wrinkle that worked its way over the muddy dune toward the city beyond, he could pick out her quiet form. There, on that hill, his wife could be seen. She lay like a sleeping boulder, t he air and toxins wearing away at her, her arms curled under her head. Maybe. It was difficult to see, hard to make out clearl y even back before the blurring had begun anew. And besides, ther e was little to trust in that sight. There was much, in fact, to doubt. So Holston simply chose not to look. He walked through tha t place of his wife's ghostly struggle, where bad memories lay et ernal, that scene of her sudden madness, and entered his office. Well, look who's up early, Marnes said, smiling. Holston's de puty closed a metal drawer on the filing cabinet, a lifeless cry singing from its ancient joints. He picked up a steaming mug, the n noted Holston's solemn demeanor. You feeling okay, boss? Hols ton nodded. He pointed to the rack of keys behind the desk. Holdi ng cell, he said. The deputy's smile drooped into a confused fr own. He set down the mug and turned to retrieve the key. While hi s back was turned, Holston rubbed the sharp, cool steel in his pa lm one last time, then placed the star flat on the desk. Marnes t urned and held out the key. Holston took it. You need me to gra b the mop? Deputy Marnes jabbed a thumb back toward the cafeteria . Unless someone was in cuffs, they only went into the cell to cl ean it. No, Holston said. He jerked his head toward the holding cell, beckoning his deputy to follow. He turned, the chair beh ind the desk squeaking as Marnes rose to join him, and Holston co mpleted his march. The key slid in with ease. There was a sharp c lack from the well-built and well-maintained inner organs of the door, the barest squeak from the hinges, a determined step, a sho ve and a clank, and the ordeal was over. Boss? Holston held t he key between the bars. Marnes looked down at it, unsure, but hi s palm came up to accept. What's going on, boss? Get the mayo r, Holston said. He let out a sigh, that heavy breath he'd been h olding for three years. Tell her I want to go outside. Two The view from the holding cell wasn't as blurry as it had been in the cafeteria, and Holston spent his final day in the silo puzzl ing over this. Could it be that the camera on that side was shiel ded against the toxic wind? Did each cleaner, condemned to death, put more care into preserving the view they'd enjoyed on their l ast day? Or was the extra effort a gift to the next cleaner, who would spend their final day in that same cell? Holston preferre d this last explanation. It made him think longingly of his wife. It reminded him why he was there, on the wrong side of those bar s, and willingly. As his thoughts drifted to Allison, he sat an d stared out at the dead world some ancient peoples had left behi nd. It wasn't the best view of the landscape around their buried bunker, but it wasn't the worst, either. In the distance, low rol ling hills stood, a pretty shade of brown, like coffee mash with just the right amount of pig's milk in it. The sky above the hill s was the same dull gray of his childhood and his father's childh ood and his grandfather's childhood. The only moving feature on t he landscape was the clouds. They hung full and dark over the hil ls. They roamed free like the herded beasts from the picture book s. The view of the dead world filled up the entire wall of his cell, just like all the walls on the silo's upper level, each one full of a different slice of the blurry and ever-blurrier wastel and beyond. Holston's little piece of that view reached from the corner by his cot, up to the ceiling, to the other wall, and down to the toilet. And despite the soft blur--like oil rubbed on a l ens--it looked like a scene one could stroll out into, like a gap ing and inviting hole oddly positioned across from forbidding pri son bars. The illusion, however, convinced only from a distance . Leaning closer, Holston could see a handful of dead pixels on t he massive display. They stood stark white against all the brown and gray hues. Shining with ferocious intensity, ea, Cornerstone, 2012, 3, A&C Black. Good. 153 x 234 x 27mm. Hardback. 2011. 304 pages. Ex-library<br>It's time to stop just worrying about cl imate change, says Paul Gilding. Instead we need to brace for imp act, because global crisis is no longer avoidable. The 'Great Dis ruption' started in 2008, with spiking food and oil prices and dr amatic ecological change like the melting polar icecap. It is not simply about fossil fuels and carbon footprints. We have come to the end of Economic Growth, Version 1.0, a world economy based o n consumption and waste, where we lived beyond the means of our p lanet's ecosystems and resources. The Great Disruption offers a stark and unflinching look at the challenge humanity faces - yet also a deeply optimistic message. The coming decades will see lo ss, suffering and conflict as our planetary overdraft is paid. Ho wever, they will also bring out the best humanity can offer: comp assion, innovation, resilience and adaptability. Gilding tells us how to fight, and win, what he calls 'the One Degree War' to pre vent catastrophic warming of the earth, and how to start today. The crisis we are in represents a rare chance to replace our add iction to growth with an ethic of sustainability, and it's alread y happening. It's also an unmatched business opportunity: old ind ustries will collapse while new companies literally reshape our e conomy. In the aftermath of the Great Disruption, we will measure 'growth' in a new way. It will mean not quantity of stuff, but q uality, and happiness, of life. And, yes, there is life after sho pping. The Great Disruption is an invigorating and well-informe d polemic by an advocate for sustainability and climate change wh o has dedicated his life to campaigning for a balanced use of Ear th's limited resources. It is essential reading. ., A&C Black, 2011, 2.5<

2012, ISBN: 9781408812099

Gebundene Ausgabe

Hutchinson. Very Good. 6 x 0.85 x 9.25 inches. Paperback. 2012. 336 pages. <br>A chilling contemporary thriller from Robert Harri s set in the competitive world of high finance. Dr… Mehr…

Hutchinson. Very Good. 6 x 0.85 x 9.25 inches. Paperback. 2012. 336 pages. <br>A chilling contemporary thriller from Robert Harri s set in the competitive world of high finance. Dr Max Hoffman i s a legend. A physicist once employed on the Large Hadron Collide r, he now uses a revolutionary and highly secret system of comput er algorithms to trade on the world's financial markets. None of his rivals is sure how he does it, but somehow Hoffman's hedge fu nd -- built around the standard measure of market volatility: the VIX or Fear Index -- generates astonishing returns for his inves tors. Late one night, in his house beside Lake Geneva, an intrud er disturbs Hoffman and his wife while they are asleep. This terr ifying moment is the start of Robert Harris's new novel -- a stor y just as compelling and timely as his most recent contemporary t hriller, The Ghost. Over the next 48 hours, as the markets edge t owards another great crash, Hoffman's world disintegrates. But wh o is trying to destroy him? Editorial Reviews About the Author ROBERT HARRIS is the author of Fatherland, Enigma, Archangel, Pom peii, Imperium and The Ghost, all of which were international bes tsellers. His work has been translated into thirty-seven language s. After graduating with a degree in English from Cambridge Unive rsity, he worked as a reporter for the BBC's Panorama and Newsnig ht programmes, before becoming political editor of the Observer a nd subsequently a columnist on the Sunday Times and the Daily Tel egraph. He is married to Gill Hornby and they live with their fou r children in a village near Hungerford. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Learn from me, if not by my pre cepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement o f knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his na tive town to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow. --Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (1818) Dr. Alexander Hoffmann sat by the fire in his study in Geneva, a half-smoked cigar lying cold in the ashtray beside him, an anglep oise lamp pulled low over his shoulder, turning the pages of a fi rst edition of The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals by Charles Darwin. The Victorian grandfather clock in the hall wa s striking midnight but Hoffmann did not hear it. Nor did he noti ce that the fire was almost out. All his formidable powers of att ention were directed onto his book. He knew it had been publishe d in London in 1872 by John Murray & Co. in an edition of seven t housand copies, printed in two runs. He knew also that the second run had introduced a ­misprint--htat--on page 208. As the volume in his hands contained no such error, he presumed it must have c ome from the first run, thus greatly increasing its value. He tur ned it round and inspected the spine. The binding was in the orig inal green cloth with gilt lettering, the spine-ends only slightl y frayed. It was what was known in the book trade as a fine copy, worth perhaps $15,000. He had found it waiting for him when he r eturned home from his office that evening, as soon as the New Yor k markets had closed, a little after ten o'clock. Yet the strange thing was, even though he collected scientific first editions an d had browsed the book online and had in fact been meaning to buy it, he had not actually ordered it. His immediate thought had b een that it must have come from his wife, but she had denied it. He had refused to believe her at first, following her around the kitchen as she set the table, holding out the book for her inspec tion. You're really telling me you didn't buy it for me? Yes, A lex. Sorry. It wasn't me. What can I say? Perhaps you have a secr et admirer. You are totally sure about this? It's not our annive rsary or anything? I haven't forgotten to give you something? Fo r God's sake, I didn't buy it, okay? It had come with no message apart from a Dutch bookseller's slip: Rosengaarden & Nijenhuise, Antiquarian Scientific & Medical Books. Established 1911. Prinse ngracht 227, 1016 HN Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Hoffmann had pre ssed the pedal on the waste bin and retrieved the bubble wrap and thick brown paper. The parcel was correctly addressed, with a pr inted label: Dr. Alex- ander Hoffmann, Villa Clairmont, 79 Chemin de Ruth, 1223 Col­ogny, Geneva, Switzerland. It had been dispatc hed by courier from Amsterdam the previous day. After they had e aten their supper--a fish pie and green salad prepared by the hou sekeeper before she went home--Gabrielle had stayed in the kitche n to make a few anxious last-minute phone calls about her exhibit ion the next day, while Hoffmann had retreated to his study clutc hing the mysterious book. An hour later, when she put her head ro und the door to tell him she was going up to bed, he was still re ading. She said, Try not to be too late, darling. I'll wait up f or you. He did not reply. She paused in the doorway and consider ed him for a moment. He still looked young for forty-two, and had always been more handsome than he realised--a quality she found attractive in a man as well as rare. It was not that he was modes t, she had come to realise. On the contrary: he was supremely ind ifferent to anything that did not engage him intellectually, a tr ait that had earned him a reputation among her friends for being downright bloody rude--and she quite liked that as well. His pret ernaturally boyish American face was bent over the book, his spec tacles pushed up and resting on the top of his thick head of ligh t brown hair; catching the firelight, the lenses seemed to flash a warning look back at her. She knew better than to try to interr upt him. She sighed and went upstairs. Hoffmann had known for ye ars that The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals was on e of the first books to be published with photographs, but he had never actually seen them before. Monochrome plates depicted Vict orian artists' models and inmates of the Surrey Lunatic Asylum in various states of emotion--grief, despair, joy, defiance, terror --for this was meant to be a study of Homo sapiens as animal, wit h an animal's instinctive responses, stripped of the mask of soci al graces. Born far enough into the age of science to be photogra phed, their misaligned eyes and skewed teeth nonetheless gave the m the look of crafty, superstitious peasants from the Middle Ages . They reminded Hoffmann of a childish nightmare--of grown-ups fr om an old-fashioned book of fairy tales who might come and steal you from your bed in the night and carry you off into the woods. And there was another thing that unsettled him. The bookseller's slip had been inserted into the pages devoted to the emotion of fear, as if the sender specifically intended to draw them to his attention: The frightened man at first stands like a statue moti onless or breathless, or crouches down as if instinctively to esc ape observation. The heart beats quickly and violently, so that i t palpitates or knocks against the ribs . . . Hoffmann had a hab it when he was thinking of cocking his head to one side and gazin g into the middle distance, and he did so now. Was this a coincid ence? Yes, he reasoned, it must be. On the other hand, the physio logical effects of fear were so directly relevant to VIXAL-4, the project he was presently involved in, that it did strike him as peculiarly pointed. And yet VIXAL-4 was highly secret, known only to his research team, and although he took care to pay them well --$250,000 was the starting salary, with much more on offer in bo nuses--it was surely unlikely any of them would have spent $15,00 0 on an anonymous gift. One person who certainly could afford it, who knew all about the project and who would have seen the joke of it--if that was what this was: an expensive joke--was his busi ness partner, Hugo Quarry, and Hoffmann, without even thinking ab out the hour, rang him. Hello, Alex. How's it going? If Quarry s aw anything strange in being disturbed just after midnight, his p erfect manners would never have permitted him to show it. Besides , he was accustomed to the ways of Hoffmann, the mad professor, a s he called him--and called him it to his face as well as behind his back, it being part of his charm always to speak to everyone in the same way, public or private. Hoffmann, still reading the description of fear, said distractedly, Oh, hi. Did you just buy me a book? I don't think so, old friend. Why? Was I supposed to? Someone's just sent me a Darwin first edition and I don't know who. Sounds pretty valuable. It is. I thought, because you know how important Darwin is to VIXAL, it might be you. &thinsp;'Fr aid not. Could it be a client? A thank-you gift and they've forgo tten to include a card? Lord knows, Alex, we've made them enough money. Yeah, well. Maybe. Okay. Sorry to bother you. Don't worr y. See you in the morning. Big day tomorrow. In fact, it's alread y tomorrow. You ought to be in bed by now. Sure. On my way. Nigh t. As fear rises to an extreme pitch, the dreadful scream of ter ror is heard. Great beads of sweat stand on the skin. All the mus cles of the body are relaxed. Utter prostration soon follows, and the mental powers fail. The intestines are affected. The sphinct er muscles cease to act, and no longer retain the contents of the body . . . Hoffmann held the volume to his nose and inhaled. A compound of leather and library dust and cigar smoke, so sharp he could taste it, with a faint hint of something chemical--­formal dehyde, perhaps, or coal gas. It put him in mind of a nineteenth- century laboratory or lecture theatre, and for an instant he saw Bunsen burners on wooden benches, flasks of acid and the skeleton of an ape. He reinserted the bookseller's slip to mark the page and carefully closed the book. Then he carried it over to the she lves and with two fingers gently made room for it between a first edition of On the Origin of Species, which he had bought at auct ion at Sotheby's in New York for $125,000, and a leather-bound co py of The Descent of Man that had once belonged to T. H. Huxley. Later, he would try to remember the exact sequence of what he di d next. He consulted the Bloomberg terminal on his desk for the f inal prices in the United States: the Dow Jones, the S&P 500 and the ­NASDAQ had all ended down. He had an email exchange with Sus umu Takahashi, the duty dealer in charge of execution on VIXAL-4 overnight, who reported that everything was functioning smoothly, and reminded him that the Tokyo Stock Exchange would reopen in l ess than two hours' time following the annual three-day Golden We ek holiday. It would certainly open down, to catch up with what h ad been a week of falling prices in Europe and the United States. And there was one other thing: VIXAL was proposing to short anot her three million shares in Procter & Gamble at $62 a share, whic h would bring their overall position up to six million--a big tra de: would Hoffmann approve it? Hoffmann emailed OK, threw away hi s unfinished cigar, put a fine-meshed metal guard in front of the fireplace and switched... ., Hutchinson, 2012, 3, A&C Black. Good. 153 x 234 x 27mm. Hardback. 2011. 304 pages. Ex-library<br>It's time to stop just worrying about cl imate change, says Paul Gilding. Instead we need to brace for imp act, because global crisis is no longer avoidable. The 'Great Dis ruption' started in 2008, with spiking food and oil prices and dr amatic ecological change like the melting polar icecap. It is not simply about fossil fuels and carbon footprints. We have come to the end of Economic Growth, Version 1.0, a world economy based o n consumption and waste, where we lived beyond the means of our p lanet's ecosystems and resources. The Great Disruption offers a stark and unflinching look at the challenge humanity faces - yet also a deeply optimistic message. The coming decades will see lo ss, suffering and conflict as our planetary overdraft is paid. Ho wever, they will also bring out the best humanity can offer: comp assion, innovation, resilience and adaptability. Gilding tells us how to fight, and win, what he calls 'the One Degree War' to pre vent catastrophic warming of the earth, and how to start today. The crisis we are in represents a rare chance to replace our add iction to growth with an ethic of sustainability, and it's alread y happening. It's also an unmatched business opportunity: old ind ustries will collapse while new companies literally reshape our e conomy. In the aftermath of the Great Disruption, we will measure 'growth' in a new way. It will mean not quantity of stuff, but q uality, and happiness, of life. And, yes, there is life after sho pping. The Great Disruption is an invigorating and well-informe d polemic by an advocate for sustainability and climate change wh o has dedicated his life to campaigning for a balanced use of Ear th's limited resources. It is essential reading. ., A&C Black, 2011, 2.5<

2011, ISBN: 9781408812099

A&C Black. Good. 153 x 234 x 27mm. Hardback. 2011. 304 pages. Ex-library<br>It's time to stop just worrying about cl imate change, says Paul Gilding. Instead we need to brac… Mehr…

A&C Black. Good. 153 x 234 x 27mm. Hardback. 2011. 304 pages. Ex-library<br>It's time to stop just worrying about cl imate change, says Paul Gilding. Instead we need to brace for imp act, because global crisis is no longer avoidable. The 'Great Dis ruption' started in 2008, with spiking food and oil prices and dr amatic ecological change like the melting polar icecap. It is not simply about fossil fuels and carbon footprints. We have come to the end of Economic Growth, Version 1.0, a world economy based o n consumption and waste, where we lived beyond the means of our p lanet's ecosystems and resources. The Great Disruption offers a stark and unflinching look at the challenge humanity faces - yet also a deeply optimistic message. The coming decades will see lo ss, suffering and conflict as our planetary overdraft is paid. Ho wever, they will also bring out the best humanity can offer: comp assion, innovation, resilience and adaptability. Gilding tells us how to fight, and win, what he calls 'the One Degree War' to pre vent catastrophic warming of the earth, and how to start today. The crisis we are in represents a rare chance to replace our add iction to growth with an ethic of sustainability, and it's alread y happening. It's also an unmatched business opportunity: old ind ustries will collapse while new companies literally reshape our e conomy. In the aftermath of the Great Disruption, we will measure 'growth' in a new way. It will mean not quantity of stuff, but q uality, and happiness, of life. And, yes, there is life after sho pping. The Great Disruption is an invigorating and well-informe d polemic by an advocate for sustainability and climate change wh o has dedicated his life to campaigning for a balanced use of Ear th's limited resources. It is essential reading. ., A&C Black, 2011, 2.5<