Fifty Miles From Tomorrow

Nunavut tigummiun! Hold on to the land! It was just fifty years ago that the territory of Alaska officially became the state of Alaska. But no matter who has staked their claim to the land, it has always had a way of enveloping souls in its vast, icy embrace. For William L. Iggiagruk Hensley, Alaska has been his home, his identity, and his cause. Born on the shores of Kotzebue Sound, twenty-nine miles north of the Arctic Circle, he was raised to live the traditional, seminomadic life that his Iñupiaq ancestors had lived for thousands of years. It was a life of cold and of constant effort, but Hensley's people also reaped the bounty that nature provided. In Fifty Miles from Tomorrow, Hensley offers us the rare chance to immerse ourselves in a firsthand account of growing up Native Alaskan. There have been books written about Alaska, but they've been written by Outsiders, settlers. Hensley's memoir of life on the tundra offers an entirely new perspective, and his stories are captivating, as is his account of his devotion to the Alaska Native land claims movement. As a young man, Hensley was sent by missionaries to the Lower Forty-eight so he could pursue an education. While studying there, he discovered that the land Native Alaskans had occupied and, to all intents and purposes, owned for millennia was being snatched away from them. Hensley decided to fight back. In 1971, after years of Hensley's tireless lobbying, the United States government set aside 44 million acres and nearly $1 billion for use by Alaska's native peoples. Unlike their relatives to the south, the Alaskan peoples would be able to take charge of their economic and political destiny. The landmark decision did not come overnight and was certainly not the making of any one person. But it was Hensley who gave voice to the cause and made it real. Fifty Miles from Tomorrow is not only the memoir of one man; it is also a fascinating testament to the resilience of the Alaskan ilitqusiat, the Alaskan spirit.

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER A GLOBE AND MAIL BESTSELLER A JIMMY FALLON BOOK CLUB PICK In this exhilarating novel by the best-selling author of The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry two friends—often in love, but never lovers—come together as creative partners in the world of video game design, where success brings them fame, joy, tragedy, duplicity, and, ultimately, a kind of immortality. "Utterly brilliant. In this sweeping, gorgeously written novel, Gabrielle Zevin charts the beauty, tenacity, and fragility of human love and creativity. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow is one of the best books I've ever read." —John Green On a bitter cold day, in the December of his Junior Year at Harvard, Sam Masur exits a subway car and sees, amid the hordes of people waiting on the platform, Sadie Green. He calls her name. For a moment, she pretends she hasn’t heard him, but then, she turns, and a game begins: a legendary collaboration that will launch them to stardom. They borrow money, beg favors, and, before even graduating college, they have created their first blockbuster, Ichigo: a game where players can escape the confines of a body and the betrayals of a heart, and where death means nothing more than a chance to restart and play again. This is the story of the perfect worlds Sam and Sadie build, the imperfect world they live in, and of everything that comes after success: Money. Fame. Duplicity. Tragedy. Spanning over thirty years, from Cambridge, Massachusetts, to Venice Beach, California, and lands in between and far beyond, Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow is a dazzling and intricately imagined novel that examines the multifarious nature of identity, games as artform, technology and the human experience, disability, failure, the redemptive possibilities in play, and above all, our need to connect: to be loved and to love. Yes, it is a love story, but it is not one you have read before.

In her first book, Blonde Indian, Ernestine Hayes powerfully recounted the story of returning to Juneau and to her Tlingit home after many years of wandering. The Tao of Raven takes up the next and, in some ways, less explored question: once the exile returns, then what? Using the story of Raven and the Box of Daylight (and relating it to Sun Tzu’s equally timeless Art of War) to deepen her narration and reflection, Hayes expresses an ongoing frustration and anger at the obstacles and prejudices still facing Alaska Natives in their own land, but also recounts her own story of attending and completing college in her fifties and becoming a professor and a writer. Hayes lyrically weaves together strands of memoir, contemplation, and fiction to articulate an Indigenous worldview in which all things are connected, in which intergenerational trauma creates many hardships but transformation is still possible. Now a grandmother and thinking very much of the generations who will come after her, Hayes speaks for herself but also has powerful things to say about the resilience and complications of her Native community.

The story of an unexpected and terribly inconvenient Christian conversion, told by a very unlikely convert, Take This Bread tells the story of a restaurant cook and writer who wandered into a church and found herself transformed, setting up a food pantry around the same altar where she first received the body of Christ.

RAISING OURSELVES is a gritty, sobering, yet irresistible memoir filled with laughter even as generations of Gwich'in grief seeps from past to present. But hope pushes back hopelessness, and a new strength and wisdom emerge from the lives of the native people of the Yukon River in Alaska.

A member of the the Wolf House of the Kaagwaantaan clan of the Tlingit Indians tells the story of her early family life, her travels as a young woman, and her return home to Juneau, Alaska as an adult.

“In the wild, something inside me opens to innovation, inspiration, creativity, and imagination. It’s a good feeling, one that leaves me light and full of energy, free to imagine who I want to be in this life. . . . Yet it’s slippery and ephemeral, and I can never seem to pack it out with me.” —Adrienne Lindholm It Happened Like This is, on the surface, a memoir about what it means to live and love in one of the wildest places on the planet. But the love described is not a simple one; it’s a gritty, sometimes devastating, often blood-pumping kind of feeling played out in the rugged Alaska wilderness. In an authentic and honest voice, writer Adrienne Lindholm recounts her move to Alaska as a young woman eager to begin her career in environmental and wildlife studies. She finds herself initially out of her depth among her peers, many of whom are also “Outsiders,” new to the state, but who seem more experienced, more confident. Eventually she finds her way, immersing herself in the rigors of wilderness adventures and building a community of outdoorsy friends to sustain her. Soon she falls in love with JT and gradually, at times painfully, they build a life together and decide to start a family amidst the wild. Adrienne celebrates the many ways in which Alaska, and her outdoor adventures there, inspired self-discovery, as well as revealing her difficult and intimate journey into motherhood. Her love story encompasses the outline of massive mountains on the horizon, viewed for the first time; a caribou moving through an alder forest; the effort to climb a glaciated peak; and the peace that settles when contemplating a quiet Arctic lake. At times, her love—for JT, but also for nature and life—also feels savage, like when she charges onto a glacier alone, or when she shoots, kills, and skins her first animal. With It Happened Like This, readers take an intimate, gently humorous, and occasionally adrenalin-spiked journey into adulthood, and into the depth and comfort of wilderness.

Motivated by potentially turning Flushing Meadows, literally a land of refuse, into his greatest public park, Robert Moses—New York's "Master Builder"—brought the World's Fair to the Big Apple for 1964 and '65. Though considered a financial failure, the 1964-65 World' s Fair was a Sixties flashpoint in areas from politics to pop culture, technology to urban planning, and civil rights to violent crime. In an epic narrative, the New York Times bestseller Tomorrow-Land shows the astonishing pivots taken by New York City, America, and the world during the Fair. It fetched Disney's empire from California and Michelangelo's La Pieta from Europe; and displayed flickers of innovation from Ford, GM, and NASA—from undersea and outerspace colonies to personal computers. It housed the controversial work of Warhol (until Governor Rockefeller had it removed); and lured Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. Meanwhile, the Fair—and its house band, Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians—sat in the musical shadows of the Beatles and Bob Dylan, who changed rock-and-roll right there in Queens. And as Southern civil rights efforts turned deadly, and violent protests also occurred in and around the Fair, Harlem-based Malcolm X predicted a frightening future of inner-city racial conflict. World's Fairs have always been collisions of eras, cultures, nations, technologies, ideas, and art. But the trippy, turbulent, Technicolor, Disney, corporate, and often misguided 1964-65 Fair was truly exceptional.