![]() His case is persuasive, data-driven, and damned scary. In Part One, “What’s Happening to Jobs,” Yang explicates the societal threat posed by automation, also referred to as technological unemployment. However, a hopeful path to positive solutions awaits readers willing to power through the first two sections. ![]() It comes as no surprise that one of his early readers suggested changing the titled to “ We’re Fucked” (165). ![]() But the majority of the book’s content is extremely grim. Not tough to understand––on the contrary, Yang’s writing is clean and balanced, with an appropriate smattering of personal anecdotes that humanize and endear him to the reader. If you’re considering reading this book, be warned: it is tough. Yang’s excellent book, The War on Normal People, is the boldest and best argument for UBI to date. Yang’s central campaign issue is the institution of a Universal Basic Income (UBI) for all Americans, a daring and promising idea that has been on my radar for some years now. Yang, who is running for President in 2020, immediately struck me as honest, intelligent, well-informed, and profoundly reasonable––a heroic foil for the repugnant personalities that dominate today’s national politics. Like many others, I discovered Andrew Yang by way of his excellent interview with Sam Harris last month. ![]()
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![]() ![]() Also Italian writer Roberto Saviano received an Oxfam Novib PEN Award. Oxfam Novib director Michiel Servaes handed out the prizes. Nicaraguan writer and poet Gioconda Belli and Palestinian poet Dareen Tatour who currently risk their freedom and lives to seek out and publish the truth were honoured during the prestigious Oxfam Novib PEN Awards ceremony. After that, Canadian writer Madeleine Thien delivered the Free the Word! speech. Then the Mexican-American writer Jennifer Clement, chair of PEN International, delivered a statement about freedom of expression. ![]() Buddingh Prize for best Dutch-language poetry debut, started the night off with a reading from her collection Habitus. Robert van Asten, The Hague Elderman for Mobility, Culture and Strategy opened the festival. Opening NIght of the Winternachten festival is dedicated to freedom of expression, featuring poetry, music, the Free the Word! speech, and the Oxfam Novib PEN Awards ceremony. With: Dareen Tatour, Eelco Bosch van Rosenthal, Gioconda Belli, Hassnae Bouazza, Jennifer Clement, Madeleine Thien, Michiel Servaes, Radna Fabias, Raj Mohan, Robert van Asten, Ton van de Langkruis ![]() ![]() It reshapes their lives and the lives of those around them, whether that’s Cleo's best friend struggling to embrace his gender identity in the wake of her marriage or Frank's financially dependent sister arranging sugar-daddy dates after being cut off. He is everything she needs right now.Ĭleo and Frank run head-first into a romance that neither of them can quite keep up with. She offers him a life imbued with beauty and art - and, hopefully, a reason to cut back on his drinking. He offers her the chance to be happy, the freedom to paint and the opportunity to apply for a green card. Twenty years older, Frank's life is full of all the success and excess that Cleo's lacks. Her student visa is running out, and she doesn’t even have money for cigarettes. Sure, she’s at a different party every other night, but she barely knows anyone. ![]() ![]() For fans of Modern Lovers and Conversations with Friends, an addictive, humorous and poignant debut novel about the shock waves caused by one couple's impulsive marriage. ![]() ![]() ![]() For three centuries the rotting wreck of the David Dark has lain beneath waves, but an awful secret is concealed in the chill waters. But how do you kill the undead?Īs he searches for an explanation he uncovers a link to a mysterious ship, lost around the time of the nearby Salem witch trials. And when he discovers the body of a local busybody, impossibly impaled on a still hanging chandelier, he knows something must be done. In a bid to rid himself of this horrific spectre he soon finds that many more in the town have been victims of unwanted visitations. ![]() Yet all is not what it seems, and this sinister spirit is not Jane, but something altogether evil and terrifying. The quaint little seaside town of Granitehead seemed like a perfect place for John and Jane Trenton to start their life together. ![]() John's grief is total, so when he starts to see the ghostly apparition of his wife he almost welcomes this supernatural phenomenon. The quaint little seaside town of Granitehead seemed like a perfect place for John and Jane. But disaster strikes and Jane and their unborn child are killed. Buy The Pariah by Graham Masterton for 47.00 at Mighty Ape NZ. The quaint little seaside town of Granitehead seemed like a perfect place for John and Jane Trenton to start their life together. ![]() ![]() ![]() When I wrote FRACTURE, I wasn’t intending to write a sequel. Welcome, Megan!ĭid you feel pressure from readers to write a sequel or were you encouraged by their enthusiasm? Did the characters just have more to say or had you always planned on a sequel? TELL ME EVERYTHING!įirst of all, thank you for having me on your blog! I was so curious to know if a sequel was always planned and how it all come together. So excited to have Megan at the blog today to talk about this sequel. Falcon Lake still has a hold on them both, and Decker can't forgive Delaney until he knows why. ![]() ![]() She knew and backed out of his house and never said a word. Because he knows that Delaney knew that his dad was going to die. But when Decker's father dies in a pool of spilled water on their kitchen floor, all Decker can feel is a slow burning rage. The lake released her and grabbed another. Carson pulled Delaney out and he died on the side of the road with her mouth pressed to his. Too much death, you grasp for something to blame. Too much coincidence, you look for reason. ![]() ![]() ![]() He would not allow the older boys to impose upon me, and would divide his cakes with me. He became quite attached to me, and was a sort of protector of me. My connection with Master Daniel was of some advantage to me. The most of my leisure time I spent in helping Master Daniel Lloyd in finding his birds, after he had shot them. The most I had to do was to drive up the cows at evening, keep the fowls out of the garden, keep the front yard clean, and run of errands for my old master’s daughter, Mrs. I was not old enough to work in the field, and there being little else than field work to do, I had a great deal of leisure time. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American SlaveĪs to my own treatment while I lived on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, it was very similar to that of the other slave children. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a student visa must be in want of an Australian wife. However, while their journey may only be a few kilometres long, it may take a lifetime to complete. Hayaat and Samy have a curfew-free day to travel to Jerusalem. The only problem is the impenetrable wall that divides the West Bank, as well as the check points, the curfews, the permit system and Hayaat's best friend Samy, who is mainly interested in football and the latest elimination on X-Factor, but always manages to attract trouble.īut luck is on their side. She believes a handful of soil from her grandmother's ancestral home in Jerusalem will save her beloved Sitti Zeynab's life. Thirteen-year-old Hayaat is on a mission. I only have to remember that walk through her memories and I know I can make my promise. I can see Sitti Zeynab sitting in the front porch of the house. ![]() ![]() See myself jumping two steps at a time down the limestone stairs. Hear my heels click on the courtyard tiles. I can see her village as though it were Bethlehem itself. "I can smell the air of her village, pure and scented. 'I won't be long,' I reassure them and I jump up onto the back of the ambulance. 'We must leave now,' they say in urgent tones. The two nurses look frazzled and smile wearily at me. To know if I will have the courage to go ahead with my plan. "I need to see Sitti Zeynab one last time. ![]() ![]() ![]() While some artists such as Joshua Rashaad McFadden make use of archival material, others like Jasmine Murrell incorporate sculpture, while Gerald Cyrus’ work is firmly documentary in nature and Shamayim’s is clearly fashion-based. By no means a definitive list of panelists or nominees (for that, check out TIME’s “ 100 Photos” project), this is instead a personal and subjective tribute to the thriving field of contemporary African American photography. For Black History Month, LightBox gathered a panel of experts-from major artists such as Carrie Mae Weems to curators such as Azu Nwagbogu and educators like John Edwin Mason-and asked them to each nominate one under-the-radar, exciting African American photographer. ![]() ![]() ![]() She uses such a gentle hand to tie together the novel's two plot threads, allowing the reader to make the connection for herself. Yardi's debut middle grade is full of heart, humor, and action - perfect for readers of contemporary fiction as well as those with a soft spot for animal stories. His very honor is at stake, never mind the safety of the neighborhood! His parents? Ashwin? His little sister (and new owner of the now-missing trike) Mila? What's clear is that he's got to do something about it, if he's going to keep thinking of himself as a knight. Knight-obsessed Mateo struggles to decide who to talk to about what he saw. ![]() But everything changes when he spies something so crazy he can't tell anyone else about or they'll think HE's crazy: two skunks-no, TALKING skunks-stealing his old trike. ![]() For fourth-grader Mateo, the weirdest thing he's struggling with is the fact that his new best friend is Ashwin, not Johnny, who held that prized spot in the years before. ![]() ![]() ![]() Song abandoned his quest and darted for the edge of the forest. ![]() Ignoring the danger, he raised his head above the handcart, straining to scan the terraced fields beyond the village. Yet he could not find the face he sought. Neither did it linger on two small children who led a long-haired goat by a string around its neck, nor on the man who mended a hemp fishing net. His glance skipped over an old woman sitting in the dirt before her hut, weaving a basket out of willow strips. Above him, Mount Kamiratan rose like a great green father, and across the river, the smaller heads of the Kindoli range peered at him over one another’s shoulders. The hot, rainy season was past and the high waters had flowed away to the sea, leaving the steep banks dry and lush and fragrant. Song could see the river through a border of vegetation. In both directions the path rambled along the curves of the mighty Chin-Yazi River, the lifeblood of the village. There, he could overlook the dirt path that wandered in one side of the village and out the other, connecting it to other settlements far away. ![]() He hiked his tunic above his knees and crept behind a wooden handcart. ![]() Song had completed his task, but he paused, searching the village, seeking that one face that drew him despite the danger. All around him the forest opened like a wide, clay bowl, with a score of bamboo huts lying like pebbles in its bottom. Song knew he was foolish to linger, but his feet refused to acknowledge the fear tapping on his shoulder. ![]() |