Not Home But Here

Imagine being forced to move to a new planet where YOU are the alien! From the creator of the Tapper Twins, New York Times bestselling author Geoff Rodkey delivers a topical, sci-fi middle-grade novel that proves friendship and laughter can transcend even a galaxy of differences. The first time I heard about Planet Choom, we'd been on Mars for almost a year. But life on the Mars station was grim, and since Earth was no longer an option (we may have blown it up), it was time to find a new home. That's how we ended up on Choom with the Zhuri. They're very smart. They also look like giant mosquitos. But that's not why it's so hard to live here. There's a lot that the Zhuri don't like: singing (just ask my sister, Ila), comedy (one joke got me sent to the principal's office), or any kind of emotion. The biggest problem, though? The Zhuri don't like us. And if humankind is going to survive, it's up to my family to change their minds. No pressure.

As someone who has studied history for much of my life, I have found the past fascinating. But it has always been some grand and even intimidating universe that I wanted to unpick and explain to myself. Wang Gungwu is one of Asia's most important public intellectuals. He is best-known for his explorations of Chinese history in the long view, and for his writings on the Chinese diaspora. With Home is Not Here, the historian of grand themes turns to a single life history: his own. In this volume, Wang talks about his multicultural upbringing and life under British rule. He was born in Surabaya, Java, but his parents' orientation was always to China. Wang grew up in the plural, multi-ethnic town of Ipoh, Malaya (now Malaysia). He learned English in colonial schools and was taught the Confucian classics at home. After the end of WWII and Japanese occupation, he left for the National Central University in Nanjing to study alongside some of the finest of his generation of Chinese undergraduates. The victory of Mao Zedong's Communist Party interrupted his education, and he ends this volume with his return to Malaya. Wise and moving, this is a fascinating reflection on family, identity, and belonging, and on the ability of the individual to find a place amid the historical currents that have shaped Asia and the world.

Not Here is a flight plan for escape and a map for navigating home; a queer Vietnamese American body in confrontation with whiteness, trauma, family, and nostalgia; and a big beating heart of a book. Nguyen’s poems ache with loneliness and desire and the giddy terrors of allowing yourself to hope for love, and revel in moments of connection achieved.

In May 2005, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Russell Edmonds of the U.S. Army Special Forces, a decorated counter-terrorism expert, was deployed to the Iraqi city of Mosul, which was boiling over. His job was to advise an Iraqi Intelligence Officer on the art of interrogations, collect intelligence, and monitor the capture and interrogation of insurgents, while applying the brakes on more extreme tactics and torture. From a makeshift basement prison, he would witness a never-ending cycle of some of the darkest things humanity could create.It was a soul crushing minefield of mutually exclusive moral mandates. Edmonds' training offered little practical guidance for the nuances of the Iraq War, so he had to draw his own red line: what level of torture he would tolerate and what level he would not. A year later he returned home morally and spiritually hollowed-out, with post-traumatic stress and acute moral injury. At first, he thought his distress was from the inevitable adjustment of returning home. In God Is Not Here, Edmonds has gone beyond a blood-and-body-count war memoir, revealing his emotional, psychological, and spiritual trauma—and the tortuous process of his reassembly—while providing a raw look at what happened overseas.

LONGLISTED FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK AWARD “Nothing short of magic.” —Elizabeth Acevedo, New York Times bestselling author of The Poet X From the acclaimed poet featured on Forbes Africa’s “30 Under 30” list, this powerful novel-in-verse captures one girl, caught between cultures, on an unexpected journey to face the ephemeral girl she might have been. Woven through with moments of lyrical beauty, this is a tender meditation on family, belonging, and home. my mother meant to name me for her favorite flower its sweetness garlands made for pretty girls i imagine her yasmeen bright & alive & i ache to have been born her instead Nima wishes she were someone else. She doesn’t feel understood by her mother, who grew up in a different land. She doesn’t feel accepted in her suburban town; yet somehow, she isn't different enough to belong elsewhere. Her best friend, Haitham, is the only person with whom she can truly be herself. Until she can't, and suddenly her only refuge is gone. As the ground is pulled out from under her, Nima must grapple with the phantom of a life not chosen—the name her parents meant to give her at birth—Yasmeen. But that other name, that other girl, might be more real than Nima knows. And the life Nima wishes were someone else's. . . is one she will need to fight for with a fierceness she never knew she possessed.

The fate of a racially persecuted – one of millions. Search for legal and illegal means to emigrate. Denunciation, arrest by the Gestapo, concentration camp, slave labor in the defense industry. The wife of the author commits suicide, because she sees no other way out. The little daughter is sent to the gas chamber, together with her caretaker. After the war’s end, with the cruelties of the years still fresh in Liebrecht’s memory, Heinrich Liebrecht has written down his path through the hell of the Third Reich without a word of reproach or accusation. He is concerned with reconciliation, not retaliation. The star of kindness may not sink, even in the night of cruelty, that is life’s balance for the author, who died at the end of 1989.