From the Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times journalist: a pathbreaking examination of our huge crime and incarceration problem that looks at the influence of the family--specifically one Oregon family with a generations-long legacy of lawlessness. The United States currently holds the distinction of housing nearly one-quarter of the world's prison population. But our reliance on mass incarceration, Fox Butterfield argues, misses the intractable reality: As few as 5 percent of families account for half of all crime, and only 10 percent account for two-thirds. In introducing us to the Bogle family, the author invites us to understand crime in this eye-opening new light. He chronicles the malignant legacy of criminality passed from parents to children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Examining the long history of the Bogles, a white family, Butterfield offers a revelatory look at criminality that forces us to disentangle race from our ideas about crime and, in doing so, strikes at the heart of our deepest stereotypes. And he makes clear how these new insights are leading to fundamentally different efforts at reform. With his empathic insight and profound knowledge of criminology, Butterfield offers us both the indelible tale of one family's transgressions and tribulations, and an entirely new way to understand crime in America.

In the early 1900s, thirty-five individuals left their current church to venture on a journey of starting a new church. This journey would change not only the community, but the lives of many. In Making a Difference in Our Father’s House, authors Bernice H. Eaton and Reverend Dr. Gregory E. Moore chronicle the history of the creation of Trinity Baptist Church in Fort Valley, Georgia. Eaton and Moore pieced the history together from written and oral resources including financial records, the first warranty deed, programs, conference minutes, minute books, newspaper articles, correspondence, written and oral histories, books, manuscripts, and census records. It presents a look at everything from the church founders to its pastors and leadership, and its programs and outreach. Making a Difference in Our Father’s House shows that throughout its history, the members demonstrated their faith, their hope, and their courage as they went about doing God’s will. They worked to make a better community for the people of Fort Valley and Peach County becoming known as the People’s Church.

For two sisters growing up surrounded by the Civil War, there is conflict both outside and inside their house.

A historian's personal journey into the complex questions of immigration, home and nation From Ireland to London in the 1950s, Derry in the Troubles to contemporary, de-industrialised Manchester, Joyce finds the ties of place, family and the past are difficult to break. Why do certain places continue to haunt us? What does it mean to be British after the suffering of Empire and of war? How do we make our home in a hypermobile world without remembering our pasts? Patrick Joyce's parents moved from Ireland in the 1930s and made their home in west London. But they never really left the homeland. And so as he grew up among the streets of Paddington and Notting Hill and when he visited his family in Ireland he felt a tension between the notions of home, nation and belonging. Going to My Father's House charts the historian's attempt to make sense of these ties and to see how they manifest in a globalised world. He explores the places - the house, the street, the walls and the graves - that formed his own identity. He ask what place the ideas of history, heritage and nostalgia have in creating a sense of our selves. He concludes with a plea for a history that holds the past to account but also allows for dynamic, inclusive change.

From the bestselling author of THE ZION COVENANT and THE ZION CHRONICLES series!.

On April 2, 2005, the world kept vigil at the bedside of John Paul II and together mourned his passing.A man of suffering--the child who lost his parents; the youth who endured war, Nazi persecution, and the subsequent communist regime; the youthful Pope who was shot in an attempt on his life; the elderly Pope whose Parkinson's prompted numerous trips to Gemelli hospital--Wojtyla was always constantly attentive to the sick and suffering, who knew they would find a place of listening and understanding in his heart.Acquainted with sorrow throughout his life, John Paul II demonstrated the value of redemptive suffering to a world keeping vigil during his final hours. Now, his private secretary and personal physician, and others nearest him during his last days, share their own memories of that precious time: a story of courage, gratitude and love.Stanislaw Dziwisz is today the archbishop of Krakow, after having dedicated the past 27 years to John Paul II as his secretary. Czeslaw Drazek, SJ, is the publisher of the Polish edition of L?Osservatore Romano.Renato Buzzonetti was John Paul II's personal physician.Angelo Comastri is the President of the Fabbrica di San Peitro and was the Vicar General of Vatican City under John Paul II. He has published numerous books in spirituality.

Here is an intimate look at the human side of one of our generation's most authentic Christians; how her faith kept her going for years to prepare for the suffering and victories ahead.

The beating of Rodney King and the resulting riots in South Central Los Angeles. The violent clash between Hasidim and African-Americans in Crown Heights. The boats of Haitian refugees being turned away from the Land of Opportunity. These are among the many racially-charged images that have burst across our television screens in the last year alone, images that show that for all our complacent beliefs in a melting-pot society, race is as much of a problem as ever in America. In this vastly important, widely-acclaimed volume, Kwame Anthony Appiah, a Ghanaian philosopher who now teaches at Harvard, explores, in his words, "the possibilities and pitfalls of an African identity in the late twentieth century." In the process he sheds new light on what it means to be an African-American, on the many preconceptions that have muddled discussions of race, Africa, and Afrocentrism since the end of the nineteenth century, and, in the end, to move beyond the idea of race. In My Father's House is especially wide-ranging, covering everything from Pan Africanism, to the works of early African-American intellectuals such as Alexander Crummell and W.E.B. Du Bois, to the ways in which African identity influences African literature. In his discussion of the latter subject, Appiah demonstrates how attempts to construct a uniquely African literature have ignored not only the inescapable influences that centuries of contact with the West have imposed, but also the multicultural nature of Africa itself. Emphasizing this last point is Appiah's eloquent title essay which offers a fitting finale to the volume. In a moving first-person account of his father's death and funeral in Ghana, Appiah offers a brilliant metaphor for the tension between Africa's aspirations to modernity and its desire to draw on its ancient cultural roots. During the Los Angeles riots, Rodney King appeared on television to make his now famous plea: "People, can we all get along?" In this beautiful, elegantly written volume, Appiah steers us along a path toward answering a question of the utmost importance to us all.

A compelling novel of a man brought to reckon with his buried past... In St. Adrienne, a small black community in Louisiana, Reverend Phillip Martin—a respected minister and civil rights leader—comes face to face with the sins of his youth in the person of Robert X, a young, unkempt stranger who arrives in town for a mysterious "meeting" with the Reverend. In the confrontation between the two, the young man's secret burden explodes into the open, and Phillip Martin begins a long-neglected journey into his youth to discover how destructive his former life was, for himself and for those around him. “…on every page there's an authentic moment, or a dead-right knot of conversation, or a truer-than-true turn of phrase…”—Kirkus Reviews