Dyer Consequences

Kelly's spring project: rehabbing an alpaca ranch. But someone has different ideas for keeping her busy, including slashing tires and cracking windshields. Then the House of Lambspun knitting shop is trashed, and a woman is found drowned in a tub of dye. Although it seems like a burglary gone wrong, Kelly suspects there's more to it. And as disturbing incidents pile up, she must pick up the stitches of these crimes before the killer strikes again.

Kelly Flynn's plans to renovate her recently purchased alpaca ranch are threatened by acts of sabotage targeting her new home and her local yarn shop, House of Lambspun, a situation that is complicated by the discovery of the body of a young woman, found drowned in a tub of dye in the basement of her shop, in a mystery complemented by a new knitting pattern and recipe.

Discover the true story of Moll Dyer and the witches of Southern Maryland... if you dare... Despite the attention that Salem receives, they were far from the only town to organize a witch hunt in colonial America. Rebecca Fowler was tried as a witch in St. Mary's in 1685, and in 1674, John Cowman became the only man ever charged with witchcraft in Maryland. In Moll Dyer's case, locals took the law into their own hands. According to legend, Moll Dyer was chased from her burning home by a mob in St. Mary's County in the year 1697, left to die in the dark and cold. Was she just an ordinary woman blamed for problems beyond her control? Or was she a witch whose curse lingers on? Author Lynn Buonviri uses period records and local lore to discover the truth behind the legend of Moll Dyer and her curse.

In the aftermath of World War I, the British Empire was hit by two different crises on opposite sides of the world--the Jallianwala Bagh, or Amritsar, Massacre in the Punjab and the Croke Park Massacre, the first 'Bloody Sunday', in Ireland. This book provides a study at the cutting edge of British imperial historiography, concentrating on British imperial violence and the concept of collective punishment. This was the 'crisis of empire' following the political and ideological watershed of World War I. The British Empire had reached its greatest geographical extent, appeared powerful, liberal, humane and broadly sympathetic to gradual progress to responsible self-government. Yet the empire was faced with existential threats to its survival with demands for decolonisation, especially in India and Ireland, growing anti-imperialism at home, virtual bankruptcy and domestic social and economic unrest. Providing an original and closely-researched analysis of imperial violence in the aftermath of World War I, this book will be essential reading for historians of empire, South Asia and Ireland.

Organizing Empire critically examines how concepts of individualism functioned to support and resist British imperialism in India. Through readings of British colonial and Indian nationalist narratives that emerged in parliamentary debates, popular colonial histories, newsletters, memoirs, biographies, and novels, Purnima Bose investigates the ramifications of reducing collective activism to individual intentions. Paying particular attention to the construction of gender, she shows that ideas of individualism rhetorically and theoretically bind colonials, feminists, nationalists, and neocolonials to one another. She demonstrates how reliance on ideas of the individual—as scapegoat or hero—enabled colonial and neocolonial powers to deny the violence that they perpetrated. At the same time, she shows how analyses of the role of the individual provide a window into the dynamics and limitations of state formations and feminist and nationalist resistance movements. From a historically grounded, feminist perspective, Bose offers four case studies, each of which illuminates a distinct individualizing rhetorical strategy. She looks at the parliamentary debates on the Amritsar Massacre of 1919, in which several hundred unarmed Indian protesters were killed; Margaret Cousins’s firsthand account of feminist organizing in Ireland and India; Kalpana Dutt’s memoir of the Bengali terrorist movement of the 1930s, which was modeled in part on Irish anticolonial activity; and the popular histories generated by ex-colonial officials and their wives. Bringing to the fore the constraints that colonial domination placed upon agency and activism, Organizing Empire highlights the complexity of the multiple narratives that constitute British colonial history.

Since the mid-twentieth century, political histories of late medieval England have focused almost exclusively on the relationship between the Crown and aristocratic landholders. Such studies, however, neglect to consider that England after the Black Death was an urbanising society. Towns not only were the residence of a rising proportion of the population, but were also the stages on which power was asserted and the places where financial and military resources were concentrated. Outside London, however, most English towns were small compared to those found in contemporary Italy or Flanders, and it has been easy for historians to under-estimate their ability to influence English politics. Politics and the Urban Sector in Fifteenth-Century England, 1413-1471 offers a new approach for evaluating the role of urban society in late medieval English politics. Rather than focusing on English towns individually, it creates a model for assessing the political might that could be exerted by towns collectively as an 'urban sector'. Based on primary sources from twenty-two towns (ranging from the metropolis of London to the tiny Kentish town of Lydd), Politics and the Urban Sector demonstrates how fluctuations in inter-urban relationships affected the content, pace, and language of English politics during the tumultuous fifteenth century. In particular, the volume presents a new interpretation of the Wars of the Roses, in which the relative strength of the 'urban sector' determined the success of kings and their challengers and moulded the content of the political programmes they advocated.

In the middle of the nineteenth century a group of political activists in New York City joined together to challenge a religious group they believed were hostile to the American values of liberty and freedom. Called the Know Nothings, they started riots during elections, tarred and feathered their political enemies, and barred men from employment based on their religion. The group that caused this uproar?: Irish and German Catholics—then known as the most villainous religious group in America, and widely believed to be loyal only to the Pope. It would take another hundred years before Catholics threw off these xenophobic accusations and joined the American mainstream. The idea that the United States is a stronghold of religious freedom is central to our identity as a nation—and utterly at odds with the historical record. In American Heretics, historian Peter Gottschalk traces the arc of American religious discrimination and shows that, far from the dominant protestant religions being kept in check by the separation between church and state, religious groups from Quakers to Judaism have been subjected to similar patterns of persecution. Today, many of these same religious groups that were once regarded as anti-thetical to American values are embraced as evidence of our strong religious heritage—giving hope to today's Muslims, Sikhs, and other religious groups now under fire.