A new memoir from renowned political activist and author of Street Fighting Years: An Autobiography of the Sixties The revolutionary upsurge of 1968–1975 jump-hopped continents with ease but finally petered out. What happened after is the subject of You Can’t Please All. Tariq Ali recounts a life committed to writing and cultural interventions. An eyewitness in Moscow to the fall of the Soviet Union, he was caught up in the intellectual excitement that had gripped the country. In Porto Alegre, Hugo Chávez invited him to visit Caracas, and the two men developed a striking friendship. Post-2001, as a founding member of the Stop the War Coalition, he became a fierce critic of the War on Terror, visiting many US cities with surprising regularity to engage in debate and discussion, inaugurating a new phase of political activism. Evident in his work is the integral part politics plays in his life. He is one of the most sought-after socialist and anti-imperialist public intellectuals on most continents. Underlying the narrative is a chain of anecdotes, reflections, jottings and storytelling. The book explores his work for the theatre and film, as well as his fiction, including the acclaimed Islam Quintet. There are pen portraits of friends and comrades such as Edward Said, Derek Jarman, Richard Ingrams, Benazir Bhutto, Mary-Kay Wilmers, and the intellectuals who founded and relaunched New Left Review: E. P. Thompson, Perry Anderson and Robin Blackburn. The book also contains a moving family portrait, describing how his parents met and lived during the early years of Pakistan.

Bhupen Khakhar (1934–2003) was active in India from the late 1960s. A gentle radical, his luminous paintings addressed issues of class, gender and sexuality with sensitive, often tragicomic nuance. This publication presents a fresh take on his artistic, social and spiritual interests. Significant essays on Khakhar’s artistic influences are accompanied by focused responses to key works by leading writers, curators and artists. Khakhar’s unique voice is revealed in excerpts from the last interview before his death in 2003, and in a facsimile reproduction of the artist’s book Truth is Beauty and Beauty is God, out of print since 1972. With personal and touching contributions by those who knew him, this richly illustrated publication is an essential reference to one of the most compelling and unique voices in twentieth-century art, as well as a significant contribution to the field of international modernism. 0Exhibition: Tate Modern, London, UK (01.06-06.11.2016) / Deutsche Bank Kunsthalle, Berlin, Germany (18.11.2016-06.03.2017).

The author, a computer science professor diagnosed with terminal cancer, explores his life, the lessons that he has learned, how he has worked to achieve his childhood dreams, and the effect of his diagnosis on him and his family.

Twelve-year-old Giles is the last person anyone would expect to save the planet. But when he witnesses an alien realtor showing Earth to possible new tenants. he knows he'd better do something.

Jill walked over and stood next to Sally. She played right before Sally in the recital. "I liked your pieces," Jill said. Sally said, "But I messed up on the second one. It sounded really bad." "Oh, I didn't notice," Jill said. She shrugged, "I made a couple of mistakes too. It's no big deal" Sally thought Jill was just trying to be nice. She couldn't remember Jill every making a mistake when she played. In fact, she made it look so easy all the time. After another sip of punch and a chocolate chip cookie, Sally was ready to leave. She wasn't in a very good mood and most of all she didn't want to face Mrs. Pratt. Sally felt like she had let her down. Sally Sanders is a perfectionist—if can’t she be the best, she feels like a failure. Sally procrastinates, shies away from new things, and constantly compares herself to others, convinced she’s not good enough. With the help of her teachers and mother, Sally learns how to relax and try new things without worrying so much about being the best. She can just be herself, and that is all she needs.

Set in the future when "firemen" burn books forbidden by the totalitarian "brave new world" regime.

A deeply personal collection of poetry and art by the award-winning actor, comedian, and composer. With a poetic voice that is by turns lyrical and plainspoken, Charlyne Yi writes about the uncertainty of relationships, the absurdity of societal expectations, family trauma, and identity. In this intimate collection, you’ll find poems and accompanying line illustrations that are playful and profound, sometimes darkly funny, and often acutely moving. “Direct, personal and attention holding. It’s Yi as you may not have seen or heard her before . . . In short bursts that barely fill a page, often accompanied by line illustrations to underscore them, the poetic voice in Yi’s first book of poetry can be alternately angry, playful, blunt, and lyrical.” —The MetroWest Daily News “It’s clear that the reader is about to embark on a literary journey marked by an acceptance—and worship—of all things tender, open, sensitive, authentic, and human. It also offers ideas on kindness, race, culture . . . a testimony to being alive—it’s powerful in its quietness, its exactness. It’s soft, real, and to the point.” —Little Infinite

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.

In this #1 New York Times bestseller, Ijeoma Oluo offers a revelatory examination of race in America Protests against racial injustice and white supremacy have galvanized millions around the world. The stakes for transformative conversations about race could not be higher. Still, the task ahead seems daunting, and it’s hard to know where to start. How do you tell your boss her jokes are racist? Why did your sister-in-law hang up on you when you had questions about police reform? How do you explain white privilege to your white, privileged friend? In So You Want to Talk About Race, Ijeoma Oluo guides readers of all races through subjects ranging from police brutality and cultural appropriation to the model minority myth in an attempt to make the seemingly impossible possible: honest conversations about race, and about how racism infects every aspect of American life. "Simply put: Ijeoma Oluo is a necessary voice and intellectual for these times, and any time, truth be told." ―Phoebe Robinson, New York Times bestselling author of You Can't Touch My Hair