The jolly and exciting tale of the little boy who lost his red coat and his blue trousers and his purple shoes but who was saved from the tigers to eat 169 pancakes for his supper, has been universally loved by generations of children. First written in 1899, the story has become a childhood classic and the authorized American edition with the original drawings by the author has sold hundreds of thousands of copies. Little Black Sambo is a book that speaks the common language of all nations, and has added more to the joy of little children than perhaps any other story. They love to hear it again and again; to read it to themselves; to act it out in their play.

Exposes and explores the prevalence of racist restaurant branding in the United States Aunt Jemima is the face of pancake mix. Uncle Ben sells rice. Chef Rastus shills for Cream of Wheat. Stereotyped Black faces and bodies have long promoted retail food products that are household names. Much less visible to the public are the numerous restaurants that deploy unapologetically racist logos, themes, and architecture. These marketing concepts, which center nostalgia for a racist past and commemoration of our racist present, reveal the deeply entrenched American investment in anti-blackness. Drawing on wide-ranging sources from the late 1800s to the present, Burgers in Blackface gives a powerful account, and rebuke, of historical and contemporary racism in restaurant branding. Forerunners: Ideas First Short books of thought-in-process scholarship, where intense analysis, questioning, and speculation take the lead

This is an excellent book. Cretins have deprived children of the works of Helen Bannerman for too long. Her classic story of "Little Black Sambo" is improved upon here, this time our heroine is Little Quasha, a kind, intelligent girl who loves to read and whose unselfish assistance to an unfortunate person is rewarded. Hungry tigers disrupt our scholar while she reads her books, but with the help of a friend she devises a way to escape.

One of the most extraordinary works of the human imagination and the most important text in the native languages of the Americas, Popul Vuh: The Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life was first made accessible to the public 10 years ago. This new edition retains the quality of the original translation, has been enriched, and includes 20 new illustrations, maps, drawings, and photos.

The Story of Little Black Sambo is a children's book written and illustrated by Scottish author Helen Bannerman, and first published by Grant Richards in October 1899 as one in a series of small-format books called The Dumpy Books for Children. The story was a children's favorite for more than half a century but would become a victim of allegations of racism in the mid-20th century. Critics of the time observed that Bannerman presents one of the first black heroes in children's literature and regarded the book as positively portraying black characters in both the text and pictures, especially in comparison to the more negative books of that era that depicted blacks as simple and uncivilized. Both text and illustrations have undergone considerable revision since.

Helen Bannerman, who was born in Edinburgh in 1863, lived in India for thirty years. As a gift for her two little girls, she wrote and illustrated The Story of Little Black Sambo (1899), a story that clearly takes place in India (with its tigers and "ghi," or melted butter), even though the names she gave her characters belie that setting. For this new edition of Bannerman's much beloved tale, the little boy, his mother, and his father have all been give authentic Indian names: Babaji, Mamaji, and Papaji. And Fred Marcellino's high-spirited illustrations lovingly, memorably transform this old favorite. He gives a classic story new life.

Collects in one volume -- with an introduction and new material added -- the newsletter published in New York and edited by Diane Di Prima, 1961-69 (with LeRoi Jones, 1961-62).

This second book in the MAX series is set in Brooklyn's famous Vinegar Hill as well as in the middle of a major cancer research center in Manhattan. Ms. King once again thrusts the reader into her protagonist's specific geographic space and puts him or her among New York's downtown artists, writers, and hangers-on.

Author's Foreword This book is unfinished. The Filipino people shall finish it for me. I wrote this volume very, very slowly. 1 could have done with it In three months after my defection from the conjugal dictatorship of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos on February 20.1975. Instead, I found myself availing of every excuse to slow it down. A close associate, Marcelino P. Sarmiento, even warned me, "Baka mapanis 'yan." (Your book could become stale.)While I availed of almost any excuse not to finish the manuscript of this volume, I felt the tangible voices of a muted people back home in the Philippines beckoning to me from across the vast Pacific Ocean. In whichever way I turned, I was confronted by the distraught images of the Filipino multitudes cryingout to me to finish this work, lest the frailty of human memory -- or any incident a la Nalundasan - consign to oblivion the matters I had in mind to form the vital parts of this book. It was as if the Filipino multitudes and history itself were surging in an endless wave presenting a compelling demand on me toSan Francisco, California perpetuate the personal knowledge I have gained on the infamous machinations of Ferdinand E. Marcos and his overly ambitious wife, Imelda, that led to a day of infamy in my country, that Black Friday on September 22, 1972, when martial law was declared as a means to establish history's first conjugal dictatorship. The sense of urgency in finishing this work was also goaded by the thought that Marcos does not have eternal life and that the Filipino people are of unimaginable forgiving posture. I thought that, if I did not perpetuate this work for posterity, Marcos might unduly benefit from a Laurelian statement that, when a man dies, the virtues of his past are magnified and his faults are reduced to molehills. This is a book for which so much has been offered and done by Marcos and his minions so that it would never see the light of print. Now that it is off the press. I entertain greater fear that so much more will be done to prevent its circulation, not only in the Philippines but also in the United States.But this work now belongs to history. Let it speak for itself in the context of developments within the coming months or years. Although it finds great relevance in the present life of the present life of the Filipinos and of Americans interested in the study of subversion of democratic governments by apparently legal means, this work seeks to find its proper niche in history which mustinevitably render its judgment on the seizure of government power from the people by a lame duck Philippine President.If I had finished this work immediately after my defection from the totalitarian regime of Ferdinand and Imelda, or after the vicious campaign of the dictatorship to vilify me in July-August. 1975, then I could have done so only in anger. Anger did influence my production of certain portions of the manu-script. However, as I put the finishing touches to my work, I found myself expurgating it of the personal venom, the virulence and intemperate language of my original draft.Some of the materials that went into this work had been of public knowledge in the Philippines. If I had used them, it was with the intention of utilizing them as links to heretofore unrevealed facets of the various ruses that Marcos employed to establish his dictatorship.Now, I have kept faith with the Filipino people. I have kept my rendezvous with history. I have, with this work, discharged my obligation to myself, my profession of journalism, my family and my country.I had one other compelling reason for coming out with this work at the great risks of being uprooted from my beloved country, of forced separation from my wife and children and losing their affection, and of losing everything I have in my name in the Philippines - or losing life itself. It is that I wanted to makea public expiation for the little influence that I had . . . .(more inside)