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Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

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Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes



Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

Ebook Download : Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

An illuminating look at the surprising upside of ambiguity—and how, properly harnessed, it can inspire learning, creativity, even empathy   Life today feels more overwhelming and chaotic than ever. Whether it’s a confounding work problem or a faltering relationship or an unclear medical diagnosis, we face constant uncertainty. And we’re continually bombarded with information, much of it contradictory.   Managing ambiguity—in our jobs, our relationships, and daily lives—is quickly becoming an essential skill. Yet most of us don’t know where to begin.   As Jamie Holmes shows in Nonsense, being confused is unpleasant, so we tend to shutter our minds as we grasp for meaning and stability, especially in stressful circumstances. We’re hard-wired to resolve contradictions quickly and extinguish anomalies. This can be useful, of course. When a tiger is chasing you, you can’t be indecisive. But as Nonsense reveals, our need for closure has its own dangers. It makes us stick to our first answer, which is not always the best, and it makes us search for meaning in the wrong places. When we latch onto fast and easy truths, we lose a vital opportunity to learn something new, solve a hard problem, or see the world from another perspective.   In other words, confusion—that uncomfortable mental place—has a hidden upside. We just need to know how to use it. This lively and original book points the way. Over the last few years, new insights from social psychology and cognitive science have deepened our understanding of the role of ambiguity in our lives and Holmes brings this research together for the first time, showing how we can use uncertainty to our advantage. Filled with illuminating stories—from spy games and doomsday cults to Absolut Vodka’s ad campaign and the creation of Mad Libs—Nonsense promises to transform the way we conduct business, educate our children, and make decisions.   In an increasingly unpredictable, complex world, it turns out that what matters most isn’t IQ, willpower, or confidence in what we know. It’s how we deal with what we don’t understand.

Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #104780 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-10-13
  • Released on: 2015-10-13
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.53" h x 1.13" w x 6.51" l, 1.25 pounds
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 336 pages
Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

Review "Holmes... debuts with a provocative analysis of the roots of uncertainty... The author's bright anecdotes and wide-ranging research stories are certain to please many readers."—Kirkus Reviews"This isn't really about 'nonsense,' as in silliness, but about ambiguity—when it's helpful, when it's not; and how people react to it for good or ill... The many fans of the work of Malcolm Gladwell... will enjoy this readable and thought-provoking work."—Library Journal (starred)"By clearly staking out his thesis and exploring the topic with a dash of mischief, Holmes convincingly demonstrates that stressful situations can cause us to cling more steadfastly to our beliefs and discard unwelcome information, but he also offers a primer on how to combat these natural tendencies. While life is full of nonsense, managing our response to uncertainty makes all the sense in the world."—Booklist"An extremely useful primer for anyone who wants to better understand the complicated ways ambiguity affects human decision-making."—New York Magazine"Holmes is a fine writer and a clear thinker who leads us through the uses of confusion in art, business, medicine, engineering, police work and family life... If we want people to be prepared for the work of life and of living together, we should encourage lessons in the art of skepticism." —Washington Post"If you're hard-wired to know and want to get more comfortable not knowing, this book will guide you down that long, dark hall."—Charlotte Observer“Uncomfortable with ambiguity? Maybe you shouldn’t be. In this energetic, tale-filled, fascinating tour of a broad horizon, Jamie Holmes shows that people often prosper when and because they are uncertain. A persuasive argument, but one thing is clear: You’ll learn a lot from this book.” —Cass R. Sunstein, professor, Harvard University, and coauthor of Nudge   “Jamie Holmes has written a refreshing, lively book sparkling with insights and entertaining stories that illustrate how the mind deals with ambiguity. And he makes the case well that how we manage ambiguity both as individuals and as a species is critical to our future success.” —Peter Bergen, author of Manhunt: The Ten-Year Search for Bin Laden from 9/11 to Abbottabad    “How do we make sense of the nonsensical? Extract meaning from endless ambiguity? In Nonsense, Jamie Holmes takes us on an engrossing journey into the mind’s ability to process the murky world around us. From women’s hemlines to Nazi spies, Henri Matisse to Anton Chekhov, Holmes is an entertaining guide into the vagaries of our comprehension of reality—and the power we can derive from nonsense, if only we give it a chance.” —Maria Konnikova, author of Mastermind: How to Think Like Sherlock Holmes   “A book of astonishing stories and deep insights into how people deal with ambiguity, a subject that has troubled human beings forever, and never mattered more than it does now.” —Peter Beinart, associate professor, CUNY, columnist for The Atlantic and Haaretz

About the Author Jamie Holmes is a Future Tense Fellow at New America and a former Research Coordinator at Harvard University in the Department of Economics. He holds an M.I.A. from Columbia’s School of International and Public Affairs and his writing has appeared in The New Yorker, the New York Times, Slate, Politico, the Christian Science Monitor, The New Republic, The Atlantic, Foreign Policy, and the Daily Beast.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. NONSENSE The Power of Not Knowing by Jamie Holmes   Prologue   IN 1996, LONDON’S City and Islington College organized a crash course in French for novices and below-average students. Paula, an earnest teenager wearing wire-rim glasses, had never spoken a word of the language before. Darminder, goateed and earringed, was not only new to French, but had also failed his Spanish General Certifi­cate of Secondary Education (GCSE). Abdul had failed his German GCSE. Satvinder and Maria had each flunked their French GCSEs, and Emily’s French teacher was so unimpressed that she advised her to give up on the language entirely. Instead of abandoning all hope, however, the students had signed up for a unique opportunity. For five full days, they’d submit to the eccentric methodology of a lin­guist named Michel Thomas.   Gray-haired and wearing a blue blazer, Thomas radiated poise and grace. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” he told his new students, “and I’m looking forward to teaching you today, but under better physical conditions, because I don’t think that where you’re sitting is very comfortable. I would like you to feel comfortable, so we’re going to rearrange everything.” In a truck outside, Thomas had stashed some unexpected replacements for the standard classroom furniture: armchairs, pillows, coffee tables, plants, a rug, a fan, and even wicker folding screens. With a little effort, the students completely trans­formed the room. Plush high-backed armchairs formed a half oval, the blue curtains had been drawn, the lights dimmed, and the wicker screens enclosed the armchairs and lent the space an even cozier and more intimate feel.   There would be no desks, blackboards, paper, pens, or pencils. Thomas didn’t want the students to read or write anything. He didn’t want them to try to remember anything they studied either, or even review it at the end of the day. If, during class, they couldn’t remem­ber something, he advised, it wasn’t their problem. It was his. Emily looked incredulous. Darminder and Abdul couldn’t contain their impish smiles. But none of the students could hide their genuine cu­riosity about the old man in front of them. Was he serious? Never try to remember anything taught in class?   “I want you to relax.”   This scene, Thomas’s methods, and the results of those five days appeared in a BBC documentary titled The Language Master. Mar­garet Thompson, head of the French department at the school, was tasked with evaluating Thomas’s results. At the end of the week, she watched as the students—many of whom had never uttered a word of French before—translated full sentences using advanced grammati­cal forms. Emily managed to interpret a phrase that would normally take years to tackle: “I would like to know if you want to go see it with me tonight.” Paula praised Thomas’s strong emphasis on calm and patience. The students felt, they said, as though they’d learned five years’ worth of French in only five days. Rather stunned by the outcome, Thompson bashfully deferred to their self-appraisal.   Michel Thomas knew how intimidating it can be to explore a new language. Students face new pronunciations for familiar letters, words with novel meanings, missing parts of speech, and odd gram­matical structures. That’s why the City and Islington students, de­spite the relaxed atmosphere, still exhibited the signs of confusion: nervous laughter, embarrassed smiles, muttered apologies, stutters, hesitations, and perplexed glances. Learning a foreign language re­quires you to journey into unfamiliar terrain. Thomas referred to a new language as the “most alien thing” one can learn. To fend off these “alien” intrusions, the mind instinctively erects barricades, and the teacher’s first and often most difficult challenge is to help students pull these walls down. Thomas was able to transform the atmosphere in that City and Islington classroom from one of stress­ful apprehension to one of calm curiosity. He somehow instilled a greater open-mindedness in the students. Pupils who had habitually dismissed what they didn’t yet grasp suddenly became more likely to venture out into the unknown.   At the time of the BBC documentary, which aired in 1997, Thomas was already legendary. He’d learned eleven languages, opened tu­toring centers in Los Angeles and New York, and built something of a cult following thanks to a client list that included Grace Kelly, Bob Dylan, Alfred Hitchcock, Coca-Cola, Procter & Gamble, and American Express. Nigel Levy, who studied with Thomas before producing the BBC piece, characterized the lessons as “astonishing.” Emma Thompson described her time with him as “the most extraor­dinary learning experience of my life.” Israel’s former ambassador to the United Nations called him “a miracle worker.” And Herbert Morris, a former dean of humanities at UCLA, confided that he’d learned a year’s worth of Spanish in just a few days with Thomas and remembered it nine months later.   “The most important thing,” Thomas said, was to “eliminate all kinds of tension and anxiety” that are associated with learning.   His attention to mood was peculiar, even downright radical. He’d often begin teaching French, for example, by telling his students that French and English share thousands of words. It’s only that they sound a little different. “English is French, badly pronounced,” he once joked. Words ending in -ible, like possible, and -able, like table, all originate from French words, he’d explain. Recasting the unknown as familiar, Thomas provided students, from the outset, with sturdy building blocks. His pupils grafted new knowledge onto existing knowledge, bit by bit, expressing their own thoughts and never re­iterating rote phrases. Thomas taught for autonomy and rarely cor­rected his students directly.   By 2004, Thomas’s French, German, Italian, and Spanish in­structional CDs and tapes—recordings of Thomas teaching each subject to two students—were the top-selling language courses in the United Kingdom. But Michel Thomas wasn’t merely a linguist. He was also a war hero. That same year, he was honored at the World War II Memorial in Washington, DC, where he received the Silver Star. He died in 2005 in New York City, as an American citizen, but he was born in the industrial city of Łódz´, Poland, as Moniek Kros­kof. He’d survived concentration camps, led troops, and worked as a spy and interrogator for the Allies, netting more than two thousand Nazi war criminals after the war. “Michel Thomas” was his fifth false identity and nom de guerre.   Thomas’s firsthand experience with totalitarian propaganda and his postwar undercover career are no mere biographical curiosities. His insights into the way our minds snap shut or unlock in the face of ambiguity—the central concern of this book—grew from his ex­periences in Germany. He had witnessed up close how Nazism had fostered a dismissive, even disdainful approach to uncertainty and moral complexity among its most fervent adherents. And he then spent decades developing methods to nurture a diametrically op­posed attitude among language learners. Fifty years before the BBC documentary, in fact, Thomas tested his early ideas in an episode that eerily inverts his pedagogical demonstration at City and Islington.   *************   IN 1946, RUDOLF Schelkmann—formerly a major in the intel­ligence service of Hitler’s SS—was hiding in Ulm, Germany, co­ordinating a loose network of loyalists hell-bent on reestablishing Nazi rule. That November, Schelkmann and three other former SS officers had been baited into meeting the purported commander of a more powerful and centralized underground neo-Nazi resistance. In reality, they were about to meet Moniek Kroskof, aka Michel Thomas, a Polish-born Jew and undercover agent of the US Army’s Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC).   Tasked with bringing war criminals to justice, Thomas was on a mission to identify and eventually dismantle Schelkmann’s net­work. Another CIC agent who went by the name of Hans Meyer had been carefully building a rapport with members of the network, but Schelkmann remained reticent. The former SS man had agreed to share contacts and operational details, but only after meeting face-to-face with Meyer’s commander. Thomas had to keep Schelkmann and his men from smelling a rat. Toward that end, he had meticu­lously arranged for the SS conspirators to be run through a tortuous routine in the hours leading up to the big meeting.   Earlier that night, the SS men had been waiting, on Meyer’s or­ders, in a “safe house” southwest of Ulm. Without warning, motor­bikes arrived to pick them up. Thomas had deliberately waited for stormy weather; as the conspirators sat on the backs of the bikes, sharp winds pressed at the men’s rain-soaked clothes. Dropped off on a deserted road, the conspirators were blindfolded and hustled into two cars. In the darkness, they heard passwords exchanged as they navigated a series of staged security checks. They were pulled from the cars, marched blindly down a muddy path, and led through deep, icy puddles. They were kept waiting in an unheated corridor and were forbidden to speak. Still blindfolded, they listened to terse commands, scurrying footsteps, and doors opening and closing hur­riedly. By the time Schelkmann and his men were finally led into a lodge hall and were allowed to see, it was past midnight.   Thomas—or Frundsberg to the SS men—greeted the conspira­tors from behind a large desk. Wearing civilian clothes except for a brown, military-style shirt, he’d been described to the Nazi loyalists as a former senior officer of the RSHA, an intelligence group once overseen by Himmler. Frundsberg’s hunting lodge, as the faux head­quarters of the underground “Grossorganisation” resistance, was artfully embellished with portraits of Hitler and other Nazi bigwigs and decorated with grenades, machine guns, pistols, flame throwers, and sabotage kits. Stacks of cash sat in an open safe.   Thomas nodded curtly, sit, and the men sat. He studied a dossier of unknown contents in silence. Then he made his position clear to Schelkmann: he would not tolerate any splinter resistance groups. Military actions taken outside his command were acts of treason, plain and simple. With seemingly offhand gestures, Thomas belit­tled Schelkmann and his small group, taking frequent phone calls to emphasize his indifference to them. Subordinates came and went with apparently urgent communiqués. Flustered, the Nazi major now offered some of the details that Thomas was after: his background, the backgrounds of the other SS men in the room, the name of his network, its charter, methods, and structure, and how its members were recruited.   The CIC’s operation that night wasn’t flawless. Thomas’s elabo­rate fiction required roughly thirty people acting in concert, each with assigned scripts. Small mistakes and inconsistencies in the the­atrical performance were inevitable. Counterintelligence operations turn on such minutiae—on whether the strange hesitation, bizarre response, or involuntary twitch is interpreted as sinister or benign. That’s why a certain Soviet spy, as the anthropologist Margaret Mead once noted, smoked a pipe. It immobilized his facial expres­sions. Buttons whose holes were sewn in a crisscross rather than a parallel pattern could reveal an agent’s nationality and destroy an otherwise perfect operation. In Egypt, a foreign agent was once dis­covered because of his giveaway stance at a public urinal. No detail is insignificant to the intelligence operative, as Thomas knew, and Schelkmann’s background in intelligence was formidable.   Schelkmann had two chances to unmask that night’s hoax. His first came when he asked to be appointed Thomas’s head of intel­ligence. “I had not anticipated this,” Thomas later told his biogra­pher, Christopher Robbins. “I could hardly grant the man’s request without bringing him into the organization, which was obviously impossible. I pointed out the weakness in his operation, which in reality I was forced to admire.” Thomas not only had to feign the workings of a fake espionage conspiracy, but also had to disparage a well-managed spy network on cue. Schelkmann didn’t catch on and didn’t protest. The second make-or-break moment of the night—the most dangerous one, according to Thomas—was when Schelkmann unexpectedly asked for orders.   “Und was befehlen Sie uns jetzt zu tun?”   And what would you command us to do now? Thomas feared, as Rob­bins recounted it, that “his mask had momentarily slipped and that he had stepped out of character.” Yet again, the SS men didn’t notice. Thomas recovered, ordering the Germans to hold off on any pend­ing operations and to prepare for an inspection. His performance was vulnerable twice. But Schelkmann had missed it both times.   Here was the payoff of the gauntlet of blindfolds, switched vehicles, muddy marching, rain-soaked clothing, and humiliating treatment that the conspirators had been forced to endure: clues ignored, tells overlooked. The success of that night’s scheme didn’t depend on its perfect execution. On the contrary, Thomas knew there would inevi­tably be slip-ups that might reveal the charade and force him to ar­rest the Nazis immediately. His talent was to manipulate their mood and undermine their sense of control so that they would be less likely to notice such momentary stumbles.   Some months later, when Thomas left his work with the CIC in Germany for America, a new agent took over the task of roping in the diehard Nazi underground. Posing as Frundsberg’s deputy, this replacement arranged a meeting with Schelkmann and his men at a local beer hall. Wives and girlfriends were allowed. This time, when a tense moment came and the undercover agent seemed flustered, the German conspirators sensed that something was off. They ques­tioned him aggressively. The panicking CIC agent pulled a gun, and the other CIC undercover officers tucked elsewhere at the bar—his backup—had no choice but to move in and arrest the men, netting far fewer of the group’s contacts than they’d hoped.   Schelkmann himself would serve twelve years in prison. When they were initially charged, he and his men vehemently denied the prosecution’s seemingly incomprehensible claim that Frundsberg, too, had been working for the Americans. Just as Thomas’s students opened their minds, the SS men had closed theirs.   *************   THIS BOOK LOOKS at how we make sense of the world. It’s about what happens when we’re confused and the path forward isn’t ob­vious. Of course, most of the challenges of daily life are perfectly straightforward. When it’s snowing, we know to put on a jacket be­fore venturing out. When the phone rings, we pick it up. A red stop­light means we should brake. At the other end of the spectrum, vast stores of knowledge completely confound most of us. Stare at Baby­lonian cuneiform or listen to particle physicists debate, and if you’re like me, your mind will draw a blank. We can’t be confused without some foothold in knowledge. Instead of feeling uneasy because we half understand, we’re as calmly certain in our ignorance as we are assured in our everyday rituals. This book examines the hazy middle ground between these two extremes, when the information we need to make sense of an experience seems to be missing, too complex, or contradictory. It’s in these partially meaningful situations that am­biguity resides.   The mind state caused by ambiguity is called uncertainty, and it’s an emotional amplifier. It makes anxiety more agonizing, and pleasure especially enjoyable. The delight of crossword puzzles, for example, comes from pondering and resolving ambiguous clues. Detective stories, among the most successful literary genres of all time, concoct their suspense by sustaining uncertainty about hints and culprits. Mind-bending modern art, the multiplicities of poetry, Lewis Carroll’s riddles, Márquez’s magical realism, Kafka’s existen­tial satire—ambiguity saturates our art forms and masterpieces, sug­gesting its deeply emotional nature. Goethe once said that “what we agree with leaves us inactive, but contradiction makes us produc­tive.” So it is with ambiguity.   Tourism, science museums, and brainteasers testify to the ex­traordinary potential of ambiguity and mystery to captivate the imagination. But they also suggest just how tentative our relation­ship to perceived disorder can be. We like our uncertainty to be as carefully curated as a modern art exhibit. Most contexts in which we enjoy ambiguity are unthreatening, as when music flirts with dis­sonance or horror films toy with madness. When we face unclear experiences beyond these realms, we rarely feel so safe. Real-life uncertainties take the form of inexplicable events, indistinct inten­tions, or inconclusive financial or medical news. Maybe your spouse doesn’t get a job that he or she seemed exceptionally qualified for. Or perhaps you’re not feeling well, but the doctor’s diagnosis doesn’t ex­plain all of your symptoms. Maybe you’re negotiating a business deal with someone you don’t quite trust. Or maybe you’re trying to work out a business plan in a rapidly shifting, highly competitive market. The key decision points in our lives—from choosing a college to de­ciding on a place to live—have always involved handling ambiguous information in high-stakes circumstances. Today, though, the world feels more overwhelming and chaotic than ever.   The paradox of modern life is that while technological acceler­ation—in transportation, communication, and production—should provide more free time, those same inventions increase our options at an exponential rate. Email was far faster than snail mail, but the Internet also brought Twitter, YouTube, and so on. As the German sociologist Hartmut Rosa described it, “no matter how much we in­crease the ‘pace of life,’ ” we cannot keep up with the deluge of in­formation and options. The result is that “our share of the world” feels continually squeezed, even as we gain more efficient access to it. Estimates are that 90 percent of the world’s data has been created in the last five years. We’re all drowning in information, a reality that makes even the simplest decisions—where to eat, which health plan to sign up for, which coffee maker to buy—more fraught.   Meanwhile, we face the social anxieties of increasing inequality and an uncertain economic future as machines appear set to replace humans in many industries. Managing uncertainty is fast becom­ing an essential skill. The economist Noreena Hertz recently argued that one of today’s fundamental challenges is “disorder—a combina­tion of the breakdown of old, established orders and the extremely unpredictable nature of our age.”   Automation and outsourcing will require tomorrow’s workers to be more innovative and creative. Success or failure, as Harvard economist Lawrence Katz recently put it, will hinge on one ques­tion: “How well do you deal with unstructured problems, and how well do you deal with new situations?” Jobs that can be “turned into an algorithm,” in his words, won’t be coming back. “What will be rewarded,” Katz told me, “are the abilities to pick up new skills [and] remain attuned to your environment and the capacity to discover cre­ative solutions that move beyond the standard way of doing things.”   Just as workers today must learn to adapt to the unknown, tomor­row’s workforce has to prepare for it. Miguel Escotet, a social scien­tist and education professor, has framed the argument well. Schools should “educate for uncertainty,” he said, simply because for many students, “it is almost impossible to know what will happen by the time they will join the job market.” For Escotet, educating for un­certainty involves helping students be flexible, self-critical, curious, and risk-embracing—the very capacities that tend to disappear when anxiety gets the better of us. Similarly, entrepreneurs cannot inno­vate without the ability to dwell calmly among multiple unknowns. Being able to handle ambiguity and uncertainty isn’t a function of intelligence. In fact, as we’ll see, this ability has no relationship what­soever to IQ. It is, however, an emotional challenge—a question of mind-set—and one we would all do well to master. Today’s puzzle is to figure out what to do—in our jobs, relationships, and everyday lives—when we have no idea what to do.   Scientific interest in ambiguity has exploded over the last decade. Much of that attention has focused on exploring a concept called the need for closure. Developed by a brilliant psychologist named Arie Kruglanski, a person’s need for closure measures a particular “desire for a definite answer on some topic, any answer as opposed to con­fusion and ambiguity.” Like Michel Thomas’s unorthodox teaching methods, Kruglanski’s concept—and indeed the modern psychologi­cal study of ambiguity—can be traced to an attempt to understand Nazism.   In 1938, a Nazi psychologist named Erich Jaensch published Der Gegentypus (The antitype), an odious text in which he described certainty as a sign of mental health. To Jaensch, the very tolerance of doubt was evidence of psychological illness. After the war, Else Frenkel-Brunswik, a psychologist at the University of California, in­troduced the concept of ambiguity intolerance. In one experiment, she showed subjects a progression of images, starting with a sketch of a dog. The images gradually morphed slide by slide into the image of a cat. Subjects intolerant of ambiguity—people who tended to see the world in rigid categories—would insist stubbornly that the image was still a dog. Neatly reversing Jaensch, Frenkel-Brunswik suggested that the intolerance of unclear information was what char­acterized the unhealthy mind.   Kruglanski would offer a more modest and somehow more dis­turbing proposal than Frenkel-Brunswik’s. He understood that hu­mans have a need to resolve uncertainty and make sense of nonsense. It wouldn’t be very adaptive, he reasoned, if we had no mechanism pushing us to settle discrepancies and make decisions. Without some type of urge for resolution, we’d never get anything done. That’s the need for closure. But Kruglanski also suspected that our aversion to uncertainty isn’t static. What if, he wondered, extremism results when our thirst for clear answers goes into hyperdrive? What if Na­zism was partly fueled by the dangerous pairing of a hateful ideology with its adherents’ inflated aversion to doubt?   That, in fact, is what Kruglanski and other researchers discov­ered. Our need to conquer the unresolved, as we’ll see, is essential to our ability to function in the world. But like any mental trait, this need can be exaggerated in some people and heightened in cer­tain circumstances. As Kruglanski told me, “the situation you’re in, your culture, your social environment—change any of these factors, and you’re going to change someone’s need for closure.” Aversion to uncertainty can be contagious, picked up subconsciously from those around us. In stressful situations, we trust people in our social groups more and trust outsiders less. Fatigue heightens our appetite for order. So does time pressure. When our need for closure is high, we tend to revert to stereotypes, jump to conclusions, and deny con­tradictions. We may stubbornly insist, like Rudolf Schelkmann, that the dog is still a dog and not a cat.   Michel Thomas came to grips with the power of context to open or close the mind. He learned how to manipulate the situational le­vers controlling our discomfort with ambiguity. Think of how per­fectly the CIC’s setup in Ulm inverted Thomas’s lessons at City and Islington. Wanting the SS men to feel time-pressured, he answered telephones calls during the meeting and made sure his “aides” inter­rupted him. He wanted to intimidate the conspirators, so he stocked the hunting lodge with weapons and bundles of cash. To put the SS men on the defensive, he lodged them at an unfamiliar safe house. To tire them out and make them uncomfortable, he had them ride through the rain, wait in the cold, and march through icy puddles. In London, by contrast, Thomas encouraged his students to have pa­tience. To ensure that they were relaxed, he told them it wasn’t their responsibility to remember anything. He even had them cart away the classroom desks and replace them with living room furniture and wicker screens. His students arranged their own learning space. To further help them take control, he assured them that they were already familiar with thousands of French words.   Thomas turned the Nazis’ own doubt-repressing tools against them and later employed their logical opposites to help students learn. Intimidation, discomfort, time pressure—all allies of Thomas the CIC officer—were his enemies as a teacher. He knew how to raise the likelihood that Schelkmann and his men would blot out potential contradictions, just as the spy-turned-teacher later learned how to lower the chances that his students would disengage from a peculiar new language. He understood that our need for closure isn’t always tied to the particular ambiguity we’re dealing with. Comfy chairs have nothing to do with French pronouns, just as cold puddles have no direct bearing on whether to trust someone. Our response to uncertainty, he saw, is extraordinarily sensitive even to unrelated stress.   As Kruglanski pointed out, we typically aren’t aware of how a situation raises or lowers our need for closure or how drastically this affects our reactions to ambiguity. That’s what makes Thom­as’s methods so striking. We don’t normally think about closed-and open-mindedness as being so strongly influenced by our circum­stances. While we may acknowledge that some people are more or less comfortable with uncertainty, we tend to see this trait as hard­wired. But we’re not as beholden to our genes as we once thought.   This book argues that we often manage ambiguity poorly and that we can do better. Over the last several years, new discoveries from social psychology and cognitive science have extended our understanding of how people respond to ambiguity in ways that researchers couldn’t have fathomed in the 1950s. The researchers’ breakthroughs suggest new and smarter approaches to handling un­certainty at work and at home. Their insights point to ways that am­biguity can help us learn something new, solve a hard problem, or see the world from another perspective.   Part 1 will lay the groundwork. We’ll explore the trade-offs in­herent in our mental machinery and meet a young psychologist in the Netherlands who is leading a vanguard movement toward a new, uni­fied theory of how we make sense of the world. Part 2 focuses on the hazards of denying ambiguity. We’ll look at the differences between wise and hasty reactions to destabilizing events, watch a master FBI negotiator deal with an ambivalent cult leader, and see how a cancer patient’s comfort with uncertainty is helping change the way that we make medical decisions. We’ll also learn how one business readies for the future by acknowledging the futility of predicting it. Part 3 highlights the benefits of ambiguity in settings where we’re more challenged than threatened: innovation, learning, and art. What are the uses of uncertainty? How can teachers better prepare students for unpredictable challenges? Can embracing uncertainty help us in­vent, look for answers in new places, and even deepen our empathy? We’ll see how a Grand Prix motorcycle manufacturer responded to a surprisingly dismal season, and we’ll get to know a Massachusetts in­ventor who pushes beyond the hidden limitations of language. We’ll look at the advantages of bilingualism and meet a daring filmmaker in Jerusalem.   Along the way, I’ll hope to convince you of a simple claim: in an increasingly complex, unpredictable world, what matters most isn’t IQ, willpower, or confidence in what we know. It’s how we deal with what we don’t understand.             Reprinted from NONSENSE: THE POWER OF NOT KNOWING Copyright © 2015 by Jamie Holms. To be published by Crown, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, on October 13, 2015.


Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

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36 of 38 people found the following review helpful. Certainties & Closures Are Not Always Good . . . . By SundayAtDusk From start to finish, Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing is a highly readable, engrossing book that explains how important it is to be able to deal with ambiguity, and not to be always seeking closure. Author Jamie Holmes points out early in the book that successfully dealing with ambiguity and uncertainty does not require a high IQ, but requires that one learns to master the emotional challenge of figuring out what to do when one has no idea what to do. He states that he hopes to convince the reader of "a simple claim": "In an increasingly complex, unpredictable world, what matters most isn't IQ, willpower, or confidence in what we know. It's how we deal with what we don't understand."Those who don't or won't master that ambiguity challenge are more likely to "jump to conclusions", "deny contradictions", be mentally rigid, be prejudice and "revert to stereotypes", assert control elsewhere when losing control somewhere, be less creative, be more confident about an erroneous course of action, and be trusting of those who don't deserve trust and not trusting of those who do. There are also three things that tend to make individuals less likely to successfully deal with uncertainty and, thus, need a quick closure--fatigue, urgency and stress. States Mr. Holmes: "We have to reduce the messy world to manage it. But resolving something--fitting it into a metal box--also means that you stop scrutinizing it. Recognition means closure, and it marks the end of thinking, looking, and listening."Embracing uncertainty, on the other hand, helps creativity and invention, deepens empathy, improves your "odds of making rational decisions", makes you less likely to fixate or clutch to "one aspect of a complex and shifting reality", and opens you to outside influences and traveling . . . which in turn feeds creativity and invention. As the author quoted Jerome Bruner: Creativity often results "when the ambiguity wins". Even mind traveling in books can be a big help, according to Mr. Holmes. He says: "And it's why reading fiction--which puts us in other people's shoes--can both lower our need for closure and make us more empathetic." (Interestingly, in novels, I prefer stories with closures, but I don't feel the same way about short stories.)On page 87 of Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing is a "closure test" that the reader can take. But don't imagine this book is a self-help one, because it's not. It's more a book for those who like to think. The author provides many interesting stories, too, to help the reader visualize both successful and unsuccessful attempts to deal with ambiguity. Those stories include ones on: A doomsday group in the 1950s; the incredible increase in marriages after the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco; the 1992 Ruby Ridge standoff; the 1993 Waco standoff; the 1973 Yom Kippur War; and the fallacy of more and more medical testing because "the culture of medicine has little tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty".In addition, there are stories about: The use of brain scans in criminal cases; the failure of the midi-skirt to replace the mini-skirt in the early 1970s; how ambiguity aversion leads to higher insurance premiums; Toyota; the Zara fashion store in New York; Alexander Graham Bell; the Hand To Hand school in Jerusalem; bilinguals; Anton Chekhov; puzzles ("The act of puzzling is a protest against the mind's reduction of ambiguity."); and how in the business world "strategies with the greatest possibility of success also have the greatest possibility of failure". (While reading that part of the book, I thought it was a shame Mr. Holmes did not look at Paul Reichmann and the Canary Wharf project--The Reichmanns: Family, Faith, Fortune, and the Empire of Olympia & York. In fact, Paul Reichmann's entire career as a builder would have been most interesting to explore in this book; since it is believed that the reason he took on so many projects with so many uncertainties was because, for him, there were no uncertainties where his religious beliefs were concerned.)When I reached the epilogue of the book, I was surprised. One, because there were so many pages left. It turns out the book has approximately 75 pages of notes. Two, because it didn't feel like the book was concluding. But I guess that is appropriate for a book that is proposing it is not good to constantly seek certainties and closures. Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing actually reminds me in some ways of Kevin Ashton's How to Fly a Horse: The Secret History of Creation, Invention, and Discovery. Both books were about creativity, both books made me think quite a bit, and both books used up a lot of my supplies in my Post-it Study Kit with Tabs, Flags, Arrow Flags, Note Tabs, Grid Notes, Full Adhesive Notes, Label Pads, and Flag + Highlighter. ( Kevin Ashton, though, sounded more like Thomas Edison, from Mr. Holmes' description, than Alexander Graham Bell. :) I also felt the great need to quote both authors in the reviews of their books. Hence, let me end this review with two quotes that I liked from Jamie Holmes. One: "The heroes of this book are all protesters, and they are protesting the premature destruction of the world's mystery." Two: "Owning our own uncertainty makes us kinder, more creative, and more alive."

14 of 14 people found the following review helpful. “In an increasingly complex, unpredictable world…what matters most is how we deal with what we don’t know.” By Robert Morris I selected the comment by Jamie Holmes to serve as the subject of this review because he cites one of the greatest challenges all of us face today. For example, one of the most important information needs is knowing what we think we know but, in fact, don’t. So many times we make decisions based on assumptions or premises that are inadequate or incomplete, if not flat-out wrong. When told that he was believed to be the wisest man on earth, Socrates replied that if it were true, it was because “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."Holmes cites dozens of primary and secondary sources to support his “simple claim” that "what matters most isn't IQ, will power, or confidence in what we know. It's how we deal with what we don't understand." And I again presume to suggest that we cannot deal with something unless and until we recognize that we really do not understand it, although we may be certain that we do. Not everyone who says "Got it!" in fact gets it but may well think they do and there's the problem. In this context, I am reminded again of a Jordan Peterson comment that Holmes quotes: "The fundamental problem of life is the overwhelming complexity of being." Peterson praises the capacity of mind to eradicate vast swathes of information, albeit accurate information that is nonetheless irrelevant to and thus useless in the given circumstances. He calls this capacity of the mind "the miracle of simplification." (Albert Einstein once recommended that everything be made as simple as possible "but no simpler.") I agree with Holmes: "the only way we can manage the flood of perception is by creating and automatic ally deferring to working theories of what we are going to encounter -- beliefs about the world, in the broadest sense."These are among the several dozen passages of greatest interest and value to me, also listed to suggest the scope of Holmes’s coverage:o Ambiguity overview (Pages 9-12)o Arie Kruglanski (11-14, 73-75, 86-87, 88-90, and 243-244)o Sense making (19-61)o Dorothy Martin and alien sightings (47-56)o Traumatic events and reappraisal (65-73)o Urgency (65-82)o Misreading intentions (83-110)o Need for closure scale (86-89)o Trisha Torrey (111--114, 117-118, and 124-129)o Misdiagnosis (111-123)o Medical overtesting (120-126)o Strategy of ignorance (130-154)o Fashion forecasting (130-134, 139-141, and 145-152)o Ambiguity tolerance and strategy of ignorance (134-139, 143-144, and 151-152)o Business strategies (136-139)o Uses of uncertainty (157-178)o Gary Pisano (159-161 and 173-175)o Benefits of failure (159-163)o Innovations (179-203)o Tony McCaffrey (192-198 and 201-202)o Bilingualism (205-223)The challenges to which Jamie Holmes refers throughout his lively and eloquent narrative are indeed complicated and are certain to become even more so in the months and years ahead. He provides an abundance of real-world situation framed as stories, information, insights, and counsel to help his reader to understand basic principles and options such as how sense making works, including “secrets”; why intentions are misread; when to resist momentum; how to formulate and apply a “strategy of ignorance”; various uses of uncertainty; where to find hidden answers; and what benefits and opportunities appropriate diversity offers.For many executives now struggling to lead their companies through an increasingly more ambiguous as well as volatile and disruptive global marketplace, this is a “must read.”

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful. I began Nonsense with great enthusiasm. For the first 25 pages or so By D. Chase I began Nonsense with great enthusiasm. For the first 25 pages or so, I was enthralled. But by page 100, it became clear that this book was primarily a collection of well-written anecdotes and paraphrases of published research. Together these made for snippets of interesting reading- and interesting tidbits to share at social functions. But they weren't powerful enough to overcome the overall lack of a meaningful point.Ultimately, Holmes offers some wise cautions against rushing headlong into decision. For instance:"When making a decision, make a habit of consciously considering your stress level at the time. Are you feeling rushed? Are you tired? Are you having personal problems? Formalize reminders of how different kinds of anxiety affect your decisions and the consequences of those judgments" (80).Certainly this is good advise, but it doesn't warrant an entire book. An article would suffice.

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Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes
Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing, by Jamie Holmes

Senin, 11 Oktober 2010

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

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Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry



Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

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In small town Laurel Ridge, not everything is as simple as it appears

After a terrible betrayal, Allison Standish flees Philadelphia for the small Amish village of Laurel Ridge to claim an unexpected inheritance. Allison intends to sell the mansion housing various shops on Main Street—until she meets Nick Whiting, a single father and tenant of Blackburn House, who challenges everything she believes about her estranged grandmother and the Amish community.

Strange stipulations in her grandmother's will soon bring distant relatives and seething townsfolk to Allison's door. As anonymous threats escalate, Nick grows protective of Allison, and she finds herself falling for the handsome carpenter… But then she discovers her grandmother's death may not have been accidental, and someone wants Allison gone. Permanently.

"Perry's story hooks you immediately. Her uncanny ability to seamlessly blend the mystery element with contemporary themes makes this one intriguing read."—RT Book Reviews on Home by Dark

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #101640 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-03-01
  • Released on: 2015-02-24
  • Format: Kindle eBook
Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Review Perry's story hooks you immediately. Her uncanny ability to seamlessly blend the mystery element with contemporary themes makes this one intriguing read.-RT Book Reviews on Home by Dark"Perry skillfully continues her chilling, deceptively charming romantic suspense series with a dark, puzzling mystery that features a sweet romance and a nice sprinkling of Amish culture."-Library Journal on Vanish in Plain Sight"Marta Perry illuminates the differences between the Amish community and the larger society with an obvious care and respect for ways and beliefs....She weaves these differences into the story with a deft hand, drawing the reader into a suspenseful, continually moving plot."-Fresh Fiction on Murder in Plain Sight"Leah's Choice is a knowing and careful look into Amish culture and faith. A truly enjoyable reading experience." -Angela Hunt, New York Times bestselling author of Let Darkness Come"Leah's Choice is a story of grace and servitude as well as a story of difficult choices and heartbreaking realities. It touched my heart. I think the world of Amish fiction has found a new champion." -Lenora Worth, author of Code of HonorMarta Perry delivers a strong story of tension, fear and trepidation... An excellent mystery that's certain to keep you in constant suspense. While love is a powerful entity in this story, danger is never too far behind. -RT Book Reviews, Top Pick, on Season of Secrets

About the Author

Marta Perry realized she wanted to be a writer at age eight, when she read her first Nancy Drew novel. A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her own Pennsylvania Dutch roots led Marta to the books she writes now about the Amish. When she’s not writing, Marta is active in the life of her church and enjoys traveling and spending time with her three children and six beautiful grandchildren. Visit her online at www.martaperry.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Allison Standish was swept with an overpowering urge to throw the nearest heavy object or scream at the top of her lungs or, at the very least, slam the door. She did none of those things, clinging instead to the maxim she'd hammered out for herself years ago: if they see you lose control, they win.She actually managed to pin a stiff smile on her face. "Sorry I interrupted." She turned and walked steadily toward the door of Greg's loft.It was Diane, her boss, who rushed after her from the bedroom, wrapping a sheet around her abundant curves. "Allison, wait. This isn't what it looks like."Allison's temper nearly slipped its leash at the trite remark. "It's exactly what it looks like. No wonder you were so eager to see me get on the road.""Now, Allison." Diane reached for her with one hand while she grabbed the wandering sheet with the other.The sheet was one of those Allison had picked out to go with the bedroom furniture she'd helped Greg choose. She'd even gotten him her professional designer's discount."Let's be adult about this," Diane continued. "There's no reason why we can't continue working together.""Listen to her, baby." Greg appeared in the bedroom doorway, wearing a hastily donned T-shirt and shorts."Shut up." Diane tossed the words back over her shoulder.Greg ran a hand through the shoulder-length black hair that inevitably attracted female attention. If he'd said something to her then…But he didn't. He subsided, looking sulky. Diane had that effect on a lot of people."Come on, Ally." Di's voice turned coaxing. "These things happen. Take your week off. By the time you come back to the office, this will just be a memory. You have a good thing going. Don't ruin it."For a man. Di didn't say the words, but they were implied. Di wouldn't dream of sacrificing one single step of her career for a man. That was how she'd become manager of the most prestigious interior design firm in Philadelphia.Allison found she actually could manage a smile at that. "Sorry. I guess I'm not really that adult." This time she did slam the door.She'd gotten all the way to the car before reaction set in. It took her three tries to unlock the car door, and she slid behind the wheel, relieved that she didn't have to trust her legs to hold her up any longer. She clutched the steering wheel, willing herself not to be sick.A rusty meow from the backseat demanded attention. If Hector had to be confined to the cat carrier, he considered the least she could do was keep the vehicle moving."In a minute," she muttered. If cats were supposed to sense one's mood, Hector was deficient in that ability.Diane had been similarly concerned to get her moving this afternoon, suggesting Allison leave the office early so she could beat Philadelphia's rush-hour traffic. Clearly she hadn't anticipated that Allison would stop by Greg's loft to say goodbye before setting off for Amish country.She nearly hadn't. Hector had been recalcitrant about getting into the cat carrier, wedging his fat orange-striped body under the dresser just out of her reach the instant he'd seen the carrier. She'd finally had to resort to a can of tuna to snag him.Then, with cat carrier and suitcase stowed in her compact, she'd had, she thought, just enough time to give Greg a goodbye kiss before heading for the wilds of Lancaster County and the property she'd so surprisingly been left in her grandmother's will.She'd probably known the truth when she'd spotted Diane's Volvo parked in front of Greg's building. Her head just hadn't been able to convince her heart. She'd had to see for herself.Well, she'd seen, all right. Now she just had to figure out what she was going to do with her life.Hector complained again. Loudly."All right, all right." She started the engine and pulled onto the street as cautiously as a sixteen-year-old learning to drive.At least she had a breathing space before making any tough decisions. She'd already planned to spend a week in Laurel Ridge arranging to rid herself of the white elephant her birth father's mother had so surprisingly left her. But now she didn't have any reason to rush back.Allison joined the steady stream of traffic heading out of the city. There would be other jobs. One thing she could say about Di: her code, whatever it was, might allow her to poach a friend's man, but she wouldn't stoop to withhold a glowing reference, even if it meant Allison would be decorating multimillion-dollar homes for one of her competitors.As for Greg—well, apparently he didn't live by any code at all except the whim of expediency. Allison must have had blinders on not to see that. Still, it was easy to be dazzled in the early stages of love, or whatever had passed for love between them.Several hours later, Allison had begun to think she'd also had blinders on when she'd read the map and decided she could reach Laurel Ridge before dark. The April evening had quickly faded, and only the faintest glow on the western horizon remained. She seemed to have been wandering past fields and forests on a two-lane county route for hours, and the sole vehicle she'd passed in miles had been an Amish buggy.The GPS she relied on was not helpful. Its metallic voice hadn't contributed anything in the past half hour but a persistent "Recalculating" that was nearly as annoying as Hector's raucous complaints. When the cat started sounding like a rusty hinge, it meant the situation was getting desperate.Her tired brain played with the idea that Laurel Ridge didn't exist, that her legacy was one last spiteful act on the part of the grandmother who'd never acknowledged Allison's existence while she was alive.Pondering the possibility, Allison nearly missed the sign. She stopped, backed up and read the words she'd been looking for. Laurel Ridge, 2 Miles. Relief swept over her, and she put the car in gear."Cheer up, Hector. The end is in sight."A doubtful scratch at the carrier's door was his only response.A few minutes later she was driving down Laurel Ridge's main, and maybe only, business street. Storefronts were dark and foot traffic nonexistent. Apparently Laurel Ridge shut down early. The only sign of life was a café and, across the street, a bed-and-breakfast with a porch light left on. Probably for her, since she'd booked a room there for the week.As she pulled to the curb, Allison's gaze was caught by the building next to the bed-and-breakfast. In contrast to the homey Victorian charm of the white clapboard inn, this building loomed over the street, three stories of Italianate classic architecture dwarfing the smaller buildings around it. She could just make out the brass plate attached to the wrought-iron gate. Blackburn House. So this was her inheritance.An Italianate mansion dating from the 1850s. The attorney's voice, dry and pedantic, sounded in her mind. It belonged to Laurel Ridge's founding family. Your late grandfather purchased it from the Blackburn family fifty years ago. He had it zoned commercial and divided to form several shops and offices.The attorney's voice had sounded disapproving, either of the property or, more likely, of her.Allison had mentally translated his description into old and dilapidated, with the architectural integrity of the original house compromised by ill-conceived renovations. But from the outside, at least, the building looked well kept, its paint flawless, small lawn smooth and green, and early spring daffodils in bloom along the front walk. A porch wrapped around the sides of the building, and a round tower anchored each end of the front.Allison slid out and hauled the cat carrier from the backseat. "There it is, Hector. What do you think of it?"Hector's snarl was probably meant to express his displeasure with his confinement, but it echoed her feelings quite well.At least she ought to be able to realize some profit from the place when she put it on the market. Aside from a few random gifts that had been totally unsuited to either her age or interests, her father hadn't contributed much but a name and an accumulation of genes to her life. Maybe his mother had decided to make a last gesture toward rectifying his failure with her bequest."We may as well have a look. Don't you think so?" Talking to the cat was becoming a habit. Was that a sign that she'd eventually turn into an old maid with no one in her life but cats? At least Hector didn't betray her or smash her dreams to bits.Holding the cat carrier in one hand and fishing for the keys the lawyer had sent her with the other, Allison advanced on the door of Blackburn House.Nick Whiting stepped out into the cool April evening, the lock clicking behind him on the door to the old Blackburn carriage house, now the workshop of Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry. The only way he'd convinced his father to go home in time for supper was to assure Dad he'd stop back later to check on the shipment of brushed pewter cabinet knobs that had been guaranteed delivery today.It was important for Nick to be home for supper with Jamie, important to supervise his son's first-grade homework and to go through the bedtime rituals with him. When you were six, that sort of thing mattered.Not that Mom or Dad wouldn't have been happy to take over, but where his son was concerned, Nick didn't take shortcuts. Jamie might have lost out in the mother department, but he'd always know he could rely on his dad.So he'd settled Jamie in the twin bed in the room Nick and his brother had shared as kids, tucking him under the tractor quilt that was Jamie's favorite. And then he'd driven the mile back into town to the shop.The package had been leaning against the door, probably having arrived soon after they'd left. He stowed it away in the workshop, pleased the supplier had come through. This meant they could finish Mrs. Phelps's new kitchen cabinets tomorrow, unless she changed her mind yet again. He'd lingered in the shop for a few minutes, looking over the finished cabinets one last time. He liked checking the progress of the work on hand, enjoyed running his palm over the warm maple and the elegant curves of their custom cabinets.Nick grinned into the dark. He'd seen his dad do the same thing often enough. It must be a Whiting family trait, one that had somehow skipped his brother, Mac. Double-checking the door, Nick headed for his car, thinking about the wedge of cherry pie Mom would have saved for him.A light from one of the windows of Blackburn House caught his eye as he rounded the corner of the building, and he paused. First floor—it was in the bookstore. Ralph or his clerk must be working late, maybe unpacking a new shipment of books. Even as he thought it, the light switched off. Five steps later the light reappeared, in the quilt shop this time.He stopped, frowning. Sarah Bitler wasn't likely to be in her shop at this hour. Sarah was Amish, and she didn't like driving her buggy along the country roads after dark. Apprehension slid along Nick's skin like a touch, and he reached into his pocket for his keys.The light went out and the pattern repeated as another came on, this time in his showroom. Someone was getting into the businesses on the first floor of Blackburn House. Yanking his keys out, Nick ran for the back door.A prowler? It could be the custodian, he supposed, but Fred Glick was usually gone by this hour, and making a final pass through the building wasn't characteristic of his lackadaisical approach to his job.The rumors that had been making the rounds in town popped into his mind. Laurel Ridge couldn't seem to decide whether it was being plagued by a prowler, a Peeping Tom or a sneak thief. Maybe now he'd get the answer to that question.Nick held the knob firmly as he unlocked the back door, wary of any betraying creak as he eased it open. Stepping inside, he considered his brother Mac's reaction if Nick actually caught the prowler. Mac, Laurel Ridge's police chief, had been skeptical from the start about the rumors, saying it was probably a manifestation of cabin fever after the long winter.Nick slipped past the storerooms at the back of the building and slowly opened the door that led to the front part of the house. The wide hallway that ran from this point to the front of the building was deserted, but a patch of light lay on the marble floor. Staying in the shadow cast by the wide center staircase, Nick moved silently forward. To judge by the location of the light, the intruder was in their showroom. He heard the sound of movement, as if something brushed against a cabinet.If he went to the showroom door, he'd be seen instantly. But he could slip in the door that led from the hallway to the office behind the showroom, and he might be able to get close enough to see without being seen. Pulse racing, Nick crossed to the office door and fumbled for the key. He realized he was enjoying this small adventure, and he had to laugh at himself. Maybe a guy never outgrew all those cops versus bad guys scenarios of childhood.Holding his breath, Nick pushed open the door and sidled into the office. No one was here, but a stream of light spilled from the open door into the showroom. He worked his way around the desk and groped the wall next to the door. He paused there for a moment and then cautiously peered into the showroom.The rows of cabinet doors on display made an effective screen. He couldn't see the guy from here, but he could hear footsteps, followed by a soft thud as something bumped one of the cabinets.Nick held his breath and moved soundlessly farther into the showroom, taking cover behind a Peg-Board displaying hardware styles. The footsteps came nearer. Frowning in concentration, Nick counted the steps, estimating the prowler's location. One step, two—he must be within a foot now, so close Nick imagined he could hear a breath.Muscles tense, he waited. The instant he saw movement, he lunged, grabbing the form. Several things happened at once. He realized he was clutching a female, he felt her swing something and he heard the crack as it hit his leg with numbing force. Another crack, a banshee shriek and an orange ball of fur plummeted toward the floor.The cat turned on a dime, hissed and spat at him, spine arching. The woman, yanking free of his grasp, looked as if she'd like to do the same. Nick had a quick image of shining auburn hair, pale creamy skin and bright green eyes that seemed to shoot sparks of rage."What are you doing? Are you insane?" She held what he now realized was a cat carrier, its door hanging by one hinge. She raised it threateningly, and he had no doubt she'd hit him again at an unwary movement.He raised both hands, palms out, and took a step out of range. "Take it easy. I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in my shop?""Your shop?" she echoed.Nick saw the doubt enter her face, and a delicate pink stained her cheeks. The green eyes were framed by uncompromising brows, and her heart-shaped face had a stubborn cast along the line of her jaw. As for her lips…for a moment he was distracted, and he forced himself to focus."That's right, my shop. I'm Nick Whiting. This is the office and showroom of Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry. I repeat, who are you? How did you get in? Or maybe I should just call the police." He sketched a gesture toward the pocket that held his cell phone."That's not necessary." Her chin lifted. "You're Mr. Whiting? I'm Allison Standish." She said it as if it should mean something to him.It did. "You 're Ms. Standish? The long-lost granddaughter Evelyn left this place to?""I haven't been lost, Mr. Whiting." Her tone was cool. "But, yes. I'm the new owner of this building, so I have every right to be here."


Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

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9 of 9 people found the following review helpful. Just lukewarm By WRB Allison Standish, an interior designer by profession, was off to Lancaster County to claim the property she’d been left in her grandmother’s will. An Italian mansion, Blackburn House, dating from the 1850’s, was her inheritance left by a grandmother who’d never acknowledged Allison’s existence while she was alive. The bequest was conditional on certain requirements being fulfilled. The ownership of Blackburn House would be hers only after she’d run it successfully for a period of one year. If Allison failed to meet the challenge, ownership would be passed on to Brenda Standish Conner, a cousin.Amish life was prominent in the area and had been since the 1700’s. Sarah Bitler, an Amish woman, and a very heartwarming character, had a shop in the mansion marketing quilts. She’d been rather close to Evelyn Standish throughout her life. Mrs. Standish had been a very proud and strong-willed woman, but had shown Sarah much kindness, setting her up with the quilt shop in Blackburn House.Allison gets settled into Blackburn and meets Nick Whiting and his son, Jamie. And the story unfolds as bad things begin to happen. It seems someone wants Allison out of the mansion.The author writes in a comfortable and well-crafted style making it a simplistic read and the conclusion was satisfactory, but rather predictable. Unfortunately this one just failed to capture my attention. I found myself caring very little what happened to the characters, and found myself skimming – it went on too long. My rating is 3 stars.I received a complimentary copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

9 of 9 people found the following review helpful. ... Review Where Secrets Sleep by Marta Perry is a fantastic must read By Coco Given To Me For An Honest ReviewWhere Secrets Sleep by Marta Perry is a fantastic must read. Once you open this book to page one it will grab you, hold you down on the edge of your seat and you will watch those pages turn and turn and turn until the last page. It is such a page turner, you're going to have to try and slow those pages down. This is a story of tension, fear, trepidation, mystery, suspense and romance Amish story. When you are reading about the love you will know that danger is right behind. Allison Standish inherits a mansion left to her by a grandmother she has never known. In order for her to own it completely, she must run it successfully for one year with a profit. If not then the mansion goes to a cousin, Brenda Standish Conner. Allison moves in with a lot of confidence. She meets some of the shop owners and become friends with a few of them. Before long, bad things begin to happen to her. Someone doesn't want her there. Who doesn't want Allison there? Why doesn't anyone want Allison there? Will Allison be able to fullfill the conditions her grandma placed in the will? I gave this book 5 stars but it really deserves many more. I loved readin this book. It was so good!! It would make a good gift to give someone. It would look good in your bookshelf or on any library bookshelf. I highly recommend this book to everyone. You won't regret picking it up to read. You will re-read it over and over again. I look for more from Marta Perry.

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful. Loved This By Maureen I am so in love with Marta Perry’s books, from the beginning to the end her books are page-turners, and compelling reads. Where Secrets Sleep does not disappoint and once started I could not put it down!Allison Standish inherits a big old mansion from a Grandmother she has never met, her father’s mother, and a father that abandoned her when she was six. Why would she be left this mansion with various shops inside? Why are people looking to make her leave and sell the old Blackburn home?This girl is now a target, and you won’t believe what happens to her, she should be dead, but why? The Grandmother she never met died, or was she murdered, and again why.There are some really warm hearted happenings here, and loved how the people in her life now seem to rally around the new comer. She is a part owner in a quilt store, and Sarah and her mother embrace her, and she ends up helping them. There is also a carpenter shop in the building and she has an unlikely meeting with one of the men, Nick Whiting. Watch how she meets him, a catastrophe with a play on cat.This book has a bit of everything, and you won’t see who or whom is responsible coming! I kept changing my mind! There is a lot going on here, and even a bit of romance. You won’t be disappointed heer.I received this book through Net Galley and the Publisher HQN Books, and was not required to give a positive review.

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Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry
Where Secrets Sleep, by Marta Perry

Jumat, 08 Oktober 2010

Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

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Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy



Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

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A Finalist for the Edgar Award for Best First Novel“Remarkable . . . This isn’t your ordinary coming-of-age novel, but with his bone-cutting insights into these men and the region that bred them, Joy makes it an extraordinarily intimate experience.”—Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review"Lyrical, propulsive, dark and compelling. Joy knows well the grit and gravel of his world, the soul and blemishes of the place."--Daniel Woodrell In the country-noir tradition of Winter's Bone meets 'Breaking Bad,' a savage and beautiful story of a young man seeking redemption. The area surrounding Cashiers, North Carolina, is home to people of all kinds, but the world that Jacob McNeely lives in is crueler than most. His father runs a methodically organized meth ring, with local authorities on the dime to turn a blind eye to his dealings. Having dropped out of high school and cut himself off from his peers, Jacob has been working for this father for years, all on the promise that his payday will come eventually.  The only joy he finds comes from reuniting with Maggie, his first love, and a girl clearly bound for bigger and better things than their hardscrabble town. Jacob has always been resigned to play the cards that were dealt him, but when a fatal mistake changes everything, he’s faced with a choice: stay and appease his father, or leave the mountains with the girl he loves. In a place where blood is thicker than water and hope takes a back seat to fate, Jacob wonders if he can muster the strength to rise above the only life he’s ever known.

Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #140448 in Books
  • Brand: Joy, David
  • Published on: 2015-03-03
  • Released on: 2015-03-03
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 9.25" h x .84" w x 6.32" l, 1.00 pounds
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 272 pages
Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

Review

Praise for Where All Light Tends to Go

“[A] remarkable first novel . . . This isn’t your ordinary coming-of-age novel, but with his bone-cutting insights into these men and the region that bred them, Joy makes it an extraordinarily intimate experience.”—Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review

“[An] accomplished debut . . . In Appalachia, a young outlaw, Jacob McNeely, struggles to escape what Faulkner called that “old fierce pull of blood,” a violent meth-dealing father, the dark legacies of an unforgiving place and the terrible miseries it breeds. [A] beautiful, brutal book.”—Minneapolis Star-Tribune“Readers of Southern grit lit in the tradition of Daniel Woodrell and Harry Crews will enjoy this fast-paced debut thriller. Fans of Ron Rash’s novels will appreciate the intricate plot and Joy’s establishment of a strong sense of place in his depiction of rural Appalachia.”—Library Journal (starred review)“Bound to draw comparisons to Daniel Woodrell's Winter's Bone...[Joy's] moments of poetic cognizance are the stuff of fine fiction, lyrical sweets that will keep readers turning pages...Where All Light Tends To Go is a book that discloses itself gradually, like a sunrise peeking over a distant mountain range...If [Joy's next] novel is anything like his first, it'll be worth the wait.”—Atlanta Journal-Constitution“Joy’s first novel is an uncompromising noir, its downward thrust pulling like quicksand on both the characters and the reader. And, yet, there is poetry here, too, as there is in Daniel Woodrell’s novels, the kind of poetry that draws its power from a doomed character’s grit in the face of disaster. . . This is the start of a very promising fiction-writing career.”—Booklist“Gripping . . . Engaging characters, a well-realized setting, and poetic prose establish Joy as a novelist worth watching.”—Publishers Weekly“Joy’s debut is about hope as much as it is fate . . . [it] is harrowing.  Joy’s voice is authentic, his prose sparse, his eye for detail minute.  Everything works in this novel to push the reader closer and closer to the cliff’s edge, hoping against hope that what won’t be required is to jump off.”—Mountain Times

“Joy works with the materials many call the stuff of “country noir.” The result calls to mind the work of powerful writers such as Ron Rash, Daniel Woodrell, Mark Powell, and Cormac McCarthy . . . Joy has crafted a piece of masterful fiction.  His sense of pace, his ability to catch the reader off guard with explosive and often upsetting incidents, his way with the shape of a chapter—all herald a major young writer.”—Still: The Journal

“Where All Light Tends to Go is lyrical, propulsive, dark and compelling. In this debut novel, David Joy makes it clear that he knows well the grit and gravel of his world, the soul and blemishes of the place. He uses details that put us inside the picture, and lets his narrative move at a graceful but restless pace.”—Daniel Woodrell, author of Winter’s Bone and The Maid’s Version “David Joy has written a savage and moving account of a young man’s attempt to transcend his family’s legacy of violence. Where All Light Tends to Go is an outstanding debut and a fine addition to the country noir vein of Southern Literature.”—Ron Rash, PEN/Faulkner Finalist and New York Times bestselling author of Serena “Where All Light Tends to Go is deeply rooted in place, written in an assured, authentic voice. David Joy manages to be both lyrical and gritty, loving and horrifyingly violent, funny and grim. His picture of modern Appalachia is rich and evocative, with bold storytelling not often seen in a first novel. This book is an amazing start to a career that could make Joy the Larry Brown of the Appalachians.”—Ace Atkins, New York Times-bestselling author of The Forsaken “Compelling and authentic . . . a harsh tale of young love’s tender hopes set against the brutal realities of ruined Appalachia. Jacob McNeely’s story is one worth reading.”—Tawni O’Dell, New York Times-bestselling author of Back Roads “David Joy writes under the auspices of community, heartbreak, and love, and makes use of the warmest color in fiction - gray. What is right and what is wrong and who is to decide? In the North Carolina mountains, these answers don't come easy. Big decisions come with big consequences, and if you second guess, you lose.”—Michael Farris Smith, author of Rivers and The Hands of Strangers “Running with the dopers, drunks and less fortunate in my youth, those who were doomed by their surroundings, the story that David Joy tells is one of truth, power and circumstance and quite possibly a tour de force in American letters.”—Frank Bill, author of Crimes in Southern Indiana and Donnybrook   “Where All Light Tends to Go reads like the whiskey-breath of Harry Crews word-drunk on the lyricism of Daniel Woodrell. It's as brutally beautiful as it is heartbreaking.”—Mark Powell, author of The Dark Corner   “David Joy gives us a world that is equal parts graceful beauty and true grit in this poetic and heart-pounding novel.  Where All Light Tends to Go contains those essential elements for a novel that ‘sticks to the ribs’:  complex and memorable characters, a palpable sense of place, and a plot that is driven as much by suspense as lyricism.  You won't be able to put down this profoundly moving and illuminating look into a mysterious and intricate world where the smell of the southern pines mingles with the scent of cooking meth.”—Silas House, author of Clay's Quilt and Eli the Good “David Joy's Where All Light Tends to Go will be compared to a handful of grit lit masterpieces, but Joy's his own writer.  It's a double page turner--I couldn't stop reading, but I relished each page twice, mesmerized by the language and plot twists. For every scene of evil personified, there's goodness.  For every horrific act of lawless characters, there's the sublime.  I'll remember—and be haunted by—this novel for a long, long time.”—George Singleton, author of Between Wrecks

About the Author David Joy’s stories and creative nonfiction have appeared in Drafthorse Literary Journal, Smoky Mountain Living, Wilderness House Literary Review, Pisgah Review, and Flycatcher, and he is the author of the memoir Growing Gills: A Fly Fisherman’s Journey. He lives in Webster, North Carolina. Where All Light Tends to Go is his first novel.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. One I hid the pickup behind a tangled row of pampas grass that had needed burning a good year or so before. The law never liked for folks to climb the water tower, but I hadn’t ever cared much for the law. I was a McNeely and, in this part of Appalachia, that meant something. Outlawing was just as much a matter of blood as hair color and height. Besides, the water tower was the best place to see graduation caps thrown high when seniors wearing black robes and tearful smiles headed out of Walter Middleton School one last time. Rungs once painted white were chipped and rusted and slumped in the middle from years of being climbed by wide-eyed kids looking to paint their names on the town. Those things that seemed as if they’d last forever never did. I didn’t even make it out of tenth grade, and maybe that’s why I hadn’t felt the need to scale that tower with britches weighed down by spray-paint cans. There was no need to cement my name. A name like Jacob McNeely raised eyebrows and questions. In a town this small, all eyes were prying eyes. I couldn’t show my face, didn’t want the problems and rumors that being down there would bring, but I had to see her leave. The grate platform circling the water tank had lost all but a few screws and curled up at the edges like a twice-read book. Every step I took shifted metal, but it was a place I’d stood before, a place I’d navigated on every drug I’d ever taken. With only a buzz from my morning smoke lingering, there wasn’t need for worries. I sat beneath green letters dripping a nearly illegible “FUCK U” across the front side of the tank, pulled a soft pack of Winstons from the pocket of my jeans, lit the last cigarette I had, and waited. The school I’d spent the majority of my life in seemed smaller now, though looking back it had never been big enough. I grew up twenty miles south of Sylva, a town that really wasn’t much of a town at all but the closest thing to one in Jackson County. If you were passing through, you’d miss Sylva if you blinked, and the place where I was from you could overlook with your eyes peeled. Being a small, mountain community that far away, we only had one school. So that meant that kids who grew up in this county would walk into Walter Middleton at five years old and wouldn’t leave until graduation thirteen years down the road. Growing up in it, I never found it strange to share the halls with teens when I was a kid and kids when I was a teen, but looking down on it now, two years after leaving for good, the whole thing was alien. The white dome roofing the gym looked like a bad egg bobbing in boiling water, the courtyard was lined in uneven passes from a lawnmower, and a painting of the school mascot, centered in the parking lot, looked more like a chupacabra than any bobcat I’d ever seen. To be honest, there wasn’t too much worth remembering from my time there, but still it had accounted for ten of my eighteen years. Surprisingly, though, that wasn’t disappointing. What was disappointing about that school, my life, and this whole fucking place was that I’d let it beat me. I’d let what I was born into control what I’d become. Mama snorted crystal, Daddy sold it to her, and I’d never had the balls to leave. That was my life in a nutshell. I took a drag from my last cigarette and hocked a thick wad of spit over the railing. I was watching a wake of buzzards whirl down behind a mountain when the side door cracked against the gymnasium brick. One kid tore out in front of the crowd, and even before he jumped onto the hood of his car, I knew him. Blane Cowen was the type to drink a beer and scream wasted. I’d tested him once back in middle school, brought him up here on the water tower to smoke a joint, and when his legs got wobbly and vertigo set in he decided awfully fast he didn’t want to play friends anymore. In a school filled with kids who swiped prescription drugs from their parents’ medicine cabinets, Blane was the village idiot. But despite all that, I kind of felt sorry for the bastard, standing there, arms raised in the air as he dented in the hood of a beat-up Civic, no one in his class paying him a lick of attention while he howled. The parking lot that had seemed so desolate just a minute before was crawling now as friends hugged, told promises they’d never be able to keep, and ran off to parents who had no clue of who their children had become. I knew it because I’d grown up with them, all of them, and all of us knew things about one another that we’d never share. Most of us knew things that we didn’t even want to confess to ourselves, so we took those secrets with us like condoms, stuffed in wallets, that would never be used. I wanted to be down there with them, if not as a classmate, then at least as a friend, but none of them needed my baggage. Not until she took off her cap did I recognize her in the crowd. Maggie Jennings stood there and pulled her hair out of a bun, shook blond curls down across her shoulders, and kicked high heels from her feet. The front of her graduation gown was unzipped, and a white sundress held tight to her body. I could almost make out her laugh in the clamor as her boyfriend, Avery Hooper, picked her up from behind and spun her around wildly. Maggie’s mother hunched with her hands covering her face as if to conceal tears, and Maggie’s father put his arm around his wife’s waist and drew her close. A person who didn’t know any better would have thought them the perfect American family. Live the lie and they’ll believe the lie, but I knew different. I’d known Maggie my whole life. The house she grew up in was two beats of a wing as the crow flies from my front porch, so there hadn’t been many days of my childhood spent without her by my side. About the first memory I can recall is being five or six with pants rolled up, the two of us digging in the creek for spring lizards. We were tighter than a burl, as Daddy’d say. In a way, I guess, Maggie and me raised each other. Back before her father found Jesus, he’d run off on a two- or three-week drunk with no one seeing hide nor hair of him till it was over. Her mother worked two jobs to keep food on the table, but that meant there wasn’t a soul watching when Maggie and I’d head into the woods, me talking her into all sorts of shit that most kids wouldn’t have dreamed. I guess we were twelve or so when her father got saved and moved the family off The Creek. Folks said he poured enough white liquor in the West Fork of the Tuckasegee to slosh every speckled trout from Nimblewill to Fontana, but I never figured him much for saving. A drunk’s a drunk just like an addict’s an addict, and there ain’t a God you can pray to who can change a damn bit of it. But Maggie was different. Even early on I remember being amazed by her. She’d always been something slippery that I never could seem to grasp, something buried deep in her that never let anything outside of herself decide what she would become. I’d always loved that about her. I’d always loved her. We were in middle school when the tomboy I grew up with started filling out. Having been best friends, when I asked Maggie out in eighth grade, it seemed like that shit they write in movies. We were together for three years, a lifetime it had felt like. What meant the most to me was that Maggie knew where I’d come from, knew what I was being groomed into, and still believed I could make it out. I’d thought my life was chosen, that I didn’t really have a say in the matter, but Maggie dreamed for me. She told me I could be anything I wanted, go any place that looked worth going, and there were times I almost believed her. Folks like me were tied to this place, but Maggie held no restraints. She was out of here from the moment she set her eyes on the distance. If I ever did have a dream, it was that she might take me with her. But dreams were silly for folks like me. There always comes a time when you have to wake up. I was proud that she was headed to a place I could never go, and I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to text her, “Congrats.” When Avery let go, Maggie jumped into her father’s arms, bent her legs behind her with bare feet pointed into the sky. Her father buried his head into his daughter’s hair, pretended for a split second that he’d had something to do with how she turned out, then placed her on the ground for her mother to kiss. Maggie stood there for a moment, rocked back and forth before she turned away. She glanced behind her to say something as she ran off to Avery’s truck, but her parents had said their good-byes. In a way, I think they knew she was already gone. They knew it just as much as I did. A girl like that couldn’t stay. Not forever, and certainly not for long.


Where All Light Tends to Go, by David Joy

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21 of 21 people found the following review helpful. Dark, violent, painful and beautiful By J.Prather I'll admit that I was a bit disappointed when I began reading David Joy's Where All Light Tends to Go. My initial thoughts were that I had read this story before and met these people in countless other novels detailing the cycle of poverty and drug use in the mountainous regions of the South. It didn't take long though before I was captivated by this author's lyrical writing and keen insight. The power in this painfully familiar story lies in its darkly beautiful telling.This is a dark and violent tale filled with people who live in a world of hopelessness, and who struggle to hold on to any fragments of beauty they can find. Jacob McNeely is a young man trapped by circumstance and convinced that his destiny has already been mapped out for him. He is a hard young man, with a soul filled with such sadness that it makes him hard to read. By the end of the novel, he had completely broken my heart. I read the second half of the book straight through, determined to see things through with this broken young man who still managed to hang on to a sliver of hopeThe dark nature of this tale will not appeal to everyone, however I must say that I have seldom read such a beautifully written, emotionally brutal and compelling story. Even when I knew where things were heading, the suspense generated by the author was so intense, I still couldn't look away. I will be looking out for this author's future work and encourage any fans of the darker side of literary fiction to give this one a try.

24 of 27 people found the following review helpful. "Blood's thicker than water, and I was drowning in it" By S. H. Wells The genre has been called by a number of names: Southern Noir, Rough South Lit, or Grit Lit; and it has been made famous by writers Larry Brown, Harry Crews, and Daniel Woodrell. David Joy's debut novel "Where All Light Tends to Go" carves its own gritty story of the bonds of blood and place both into the genre of Southern Noir and onto the mountains of Cashiers, North Carolina. I would recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys the hardscrabble side of southern literature.Jacob McNeely is the son of a meth-dealing mountain Don named Charlie (who before him claims a heritage of bootleggers). Jacob is 18 and at a critical juncture in his life. As his daddy's lieutenant, Jacob is at the center of a whirlpool of drugs, money, and the coldblooded actions required to keep the crank flowing. Outside of this world, Jacob's sweetheart is graduating high school and has her sights set on places outside of Cashiers. At one point, Jacob reflects that "Blood's thicker than water, and I was drowning in it", and it is this sentiment that both expresses the bond and burden of kinship that describes the tension of Joy's novel. These two forces--love and meth--are in constant conflict throughout the novel, and Joy sets them at odds in a terrible and beautiful dance that kept me turning pages until the end.The narrative is propelled from tragedy to hope at each turn. Joy's strength as a writer come from being able to foretell the inevitable but also creating these spaces of hope. I kept thinking--mentally willing--Jacob to take an opportunity presented by the plot, even as the tale grew darker and more desperate. From the beginning Joy holds up the possibility of redemption, of escape, of resolution, but the characters of the world of Cashiers are fatalistically bound by family and location.Joy's inexorable bonds of kinship and place, the descriptions of the jaw-grinding effects of methamphetamine use and the drug trade, as well as the careful attention to language show us that "Where All Light Tends to Go" is a modern descendant of such greats as William Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy.

10 of 11 people found the following review helpful. A taut thriller in the Appalachian-noir mode By Thomas A. Holmes In David Joy's debut novel, WHERE ALL LIGHT TENDS TO GO, we see only a few short weeks in the life of Jacob McNeely, who provides the first-person narrative of this story. The son of a ruthless meth dealer and an estranged meth addict, Jacob has dropped out of school as early as the law has permitted, and he finds himself ill-fitted in his father's isolated criminal organization. Convinced of his being fated to the doom likely to face his parents, Jacob finds consolation in his attempts to assist his childhood sweetheart, Maggie Jennings, in leaving this blighted area to attend a university where she can bring about her greatest potential. Jacob's struggles with his oppressive father, his damaged mother, and his dreams of a happy life with Maggie almost match the ruthless torment his father forces him to endure in the regular course of his father's business.I confess that I read this novel much quicker than I intended to, in that it has taut action and unpredictable consequences so that I was reluctant to put the book down. Joy preserves a dramatic tension from the first pages, immediately making one sympathetic to Jacob's plight. Reluctant to be the type of man his hated father has become, Jacob falls prey to his father's control, never developing the ruthlessness his father relies upon for survival, even though he feels that such hardness would make it easier to achieve his goals. At the same time, he values Maggie Jennings and the life she might achieve, and he places himself in even more danger for those ideals. An experienced eighteen-year-old, Jacob wrestles with understanding, meaning, and priority in a house where life-and-death decisions make such considerations a luxury.In Jacob McNeely, David Joy has balanced the romantic with the tragic, offering a driven figure certain to appeal to readers of Appalachian-noir fiction. Fans of Wiley Cash's A LAND MORE KIND THAN HOME will have a new favorite in WHERE ALL LIGHT TENDS TO GO. Recommended.

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Minggu, 03 Oktober 2010

Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose

Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose

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Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose

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For Jayceon Ashworth, he's lucky to make it through the day without the torment and aggravation. Pushing aside the taunting, he focuses on football and art until Seona Fisher crashes into his life. Seona Fisher gets a second chance. Moving to College Station, Texas to be with her brother, Travis, is something she needs to escape the demons of her past. Starting over is never easy. Letting go of old habits is hard, but seeing his green eyes changes her world. A friendship turns into them both wanting one another, and neither of them able to fight their feelings. But when the demons of darkness come back, Seona has to find her way through and back into Jayceon's arms.

Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #84812 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-03-01
  • Released on: 2015-03-01
  • Format: Kindle eBook
Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose


Beautiful Lessons, by Rebecca Brooke, S. Moose

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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. GREAT STORY HEARTBREAK , LOVE , HEALING etc etc !! MUST READ By amie What a refreshing read !! I love going back into the minds of high school kids !! Drama , angst , heartache and all kinds of yumminess involved in young love and of course sowing your wild oats !! Seona and Jayceon have great stories to tell apart and a beautiful story together !! Many of their struggles are very real life and intense. I am happy to look back to my high school years and realize I did not have it that bad at all !! A great read , written by two wonderful authors !!Seona has had a horrible time for the past 6 years since her mom died. Her father has never been a good father. She has always suffered from his verbal abuse and now has finally had enough and at the start of her senior year in high school she takes off to go live in Texas with her step brother Travis and his father Mark. On her first day already torn between the popular group and a star football player that everyone seems to be against , Seona finds her voice and begins to make a name for herself and a friend in someone who seems to not want to be her friend !!Jayceon is one of the best football players in school. He is a great guy and had always been popular , that is until he walked in on something and tried to help. That blew up in his face and now he has spent the past year being bullied and shunned by most of his teammates. He has his best friend Alyssa and Brendan who attempts to have his back for the most part. The new girl comes in and there is some serious stares between them but Jayceon is automatically turned off when he finds her hanging with Chaz , the bane of his existence !! A connection between Jayceon's dad and Seona's stepbrother Travis may just be the thing to bring them together or not !!This story is a rollercoaster of emotions !! Bullying , verbal abuse , attempted sexual abuse , drugs , alcohol , jealous best friends , rumors and heartache seem to plague these two throughout the year. Their journey is long and exhausting and makes you want to rip your hair out at times. Will their pasts tear them apart or will their own fears ruin their chances of happiness ??Jayceon is amazing. I just love him to pieces. He may have had a great family life growing up but the crap he has dealt with silently for the past year could have ruined him. Instead he acts as the better person and may just come out on top. I liked Seona , I felt for her and really wanted to her to find happiness in her family and with Jayceon !! Really great story I totally recommend it to anyone I read it in a matter of hours couldn't put it down !!

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. 5 Beautiful Stars!! By Tracy Muth ~Bayou Book Junkie Beautiful Lessons**This book was provided to me by the author/publisher in exchange for an honest review**After the death of her mother 6 years ago, Seona has lived in hell with her mentally abusive father. Turning to partying, drinking and casual sex to numb the pain isn't working anymore. Seona runs away to Texas to live with her Stepbrother, Travis and his dad Mark. She is determined to leave her bad girl rep in Michigan.Jayceon had a really good life. Great parents, popular at school, good grades, good at football and art. His life was near perfect until a year ago. He found someone doing something wrong, and when he tried to right the wrong everyone turned on him. He is tormented every day in school and on the football field. The only person that has stuck with him is his best friend Alyssa and a fellow teammate, Brendan. Jayceon is just trying to duck his head and get through the last year of school before he heads off to college.When Seona walks into the cafeteria her first day at school her eyes lock with Jayecon's. They are both immediately attracted to one another.Jayceon is attracted to Seona, but he doesn't trust anyone. Especially someone who hangs out with the kids that torture him. They are thrown together by chance and Seona works hard to break down Jayceon's walls, but what happens when Seona's past shows up in her present. Will Jayceon and Seona stick together or go their separate ways?I was lucky enough to get to beta read this book. I really enjoyed it. It kept me enthralled and turning the pages. It kept me sitting on the edge of my seat waiting to get my next chapters to read. I love Rebecca's writing, but this is my first book by S. Moose. I have to say I couldn't tell who wrote which parts, the writing flowed so well together.Jayceon was a very likable character. I wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. Seona at times came off as immature and her bad girl persona shined through at times, but together they were sweet and had a good chemistry. This story takes you on that emotional rollercoaster. These authors draw you in and keep you turning the pages to see what will happen next.I also enjoyed the secondary characters of Brendan and Claire, and think they may have stories to tell as well. Guess we'll have to wait and see the the authors agree.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful. bought this book on an accident and was glad i did. By Amazon Customer So I actually didn't mean to buy this book. My internet jumped as I was reading the reviews and I hit one click. I must say I am glad it did that. This is a great book all the problems that Seona and jayceon went through broke my heart. I kinda knew that Alyssa would be a problem it's the whole girl BFF thing they think they own the guys. But I'm happy about the ending I recommend this book to anyone. It has some bullying issues and the way it was written was great they never really took it too far but just far enough to not make you want to stop reading. Good job!!

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Sabtu, 02 Oktober 2010

Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

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Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

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Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

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A SHORT STORY Is my girlfriend a terrorist? On a romantic trip to Israel, Larry discovers that there might be more to his new girlfriend than he ever imagined. “It overwhelmed me with its rich style... not to speak of a surprise ending that I could not foresee... Bravo!” - Midstream Magazine The first warning signs flare during a security check at Ben Gurion Airport, igniting his suspicions and sparking a series of events that hold grave implications both for their relationship and for Larry’s life. “Larry and Kate” is a lighthearted but poignant tale that explores the tragic complexity of modern Jewish identity against the background of the leading tourist attractions of the Holy Land. Dan Sofer is the author of A Love and Beyond, a romantic adventure set in Jerusalem that features mysterious crimes, ruthless secret societies, and a desperate bachelor.

Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

  • Amazon Sales Rank: #1010699 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-03-24
  • Released on: 2015-03-24
  • Format: Kindle eBook
Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

About the Author ** Download a free story on DanSofer.com ** Dan Sofer writes tales of romantic adventure and magical realism, many of which take place in Jerusalem.His multi-layered stories mix emotion and action, humor and pathos, myth and legend - entertainment for the heart and soul.Dan lives in Israel with his family.His new novel, A Love and Beyond, features a mysterious crime, a ruthless secret society, and a desperate bachelor.  bit.ly/aloveab


Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

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Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. It would have been great it I could get the whole book By Ruthie Montelione It would have been great it I could get the whole book. What I read was really funny. Where can I get the whole novel?

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Great but so short By Kindle Customer I enjoyed this but felt it ended abruptly. Would have liked to know what happened next for Larry and Kate.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Four Stars By LoveToRead Excellent short story with an unexpected twist

See all 6 customer reviews... Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer


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Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer

Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer
Larry and Kate: A Jewish Romance Short Story, by Dan Sofer