A collection of short stories stemming from the Romanian author's detention in a Nazi concentration camp as a child evokes a sense of the horror and absurdity of war and Romanian politics.

The Giles family buy a grandfather clock which stops at eight o'clock - time for the schoolbus and bed - and trouble ensues

As a mysterious old clock strikes thirteen, monsters and ghouls appear looking for a snack and a little mischief at the expense of the small girl who lives down the hall.

'One day there is life . . . and then, suddenly, it happens there is death.' So begins Paul Auster's moving and personal meditation on fatherhood. The first section, 'Portrait of an Invisible Man', reveals Auster's memories and feelings after the death of his father. In 'The Book of Memory' the perspective shifts to Auster's role as a father. The narrator, 'A', contemplates his separation from his son, his dying grandfather and the solitary nature of writing and story-telling.

A witty and warm tell-the-time book, created by Kes Gray, author of the bestselling Oi Frog, and Mary McQuillan. Cluck O' Clock is a tell-the-time book with a difference. It recounts a day in the life of a group of chickens - each with individual and distinct personalities - as they fill their lives with food, exercise, visiting - and waiting for the fox. Teaches children to tell the time in a fun, but informative way. '... teachers and librarians will be happy to give this tale a few minutes in story hours about chickens or clocks'. - Kirkus Reviews

When a scientific experiment goes haywire, a hidden military base is thrown into chaos and its up to a small group of genius teens that lives there to find a way out of certain destruction.

Survivor of the Nazi camps and Ceausescu's Romania, winner of the National Book Award, recipient of a MacArthur Award and a Guggenheim Fellowship, Norman Manea, an extraordinary man of letters, gives us a taste of something beyond the scope of even our twentieth-century imagination. . . . Manea is too profound a witness to place his gift for observation in the service of another sensualist account. . . . What matters for him is the phenomenon of an entire nation's life under this simultaneously grotesque and terrifying rule. -- The New Republic