This chilling collection of ten nightmarish and fiendishly funny short stories is a perfect read for fearless children. From a train journey straight to hell, out of control robots with a murderous streak and even a television show where death is the penalty - these terrifying tales display the dazzling wit and wicked humour of master storyteller Anthony Horowitz, and are guaranteed to make your blood curdle and your spine tingle.
Where, Carlos Fuentes asks, is a modern-day vampire to roost? Why not Mexico City, populated by ten million blood sausages (that is, people), and a police force who won’t mind a few disappearances? “Vlad” is Vlad the Impaler, of course, whose mythic cruelty was an inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula. In this sly sequel, Vlad really is undead: dispossessed after centuries of mayhem by Eastern European wars and rampant blood shortages. More than a postmodern riff on “the vampire craze,” Vlad is also an anatomy of the Mexican bourgeoisie, as well as our culture’s ways of dealing with death. For—as in Dracula—Vlad has need of both a lawyer and a real-estate agent in order to establish his new kingdom, and Yves Navarro and his wife Asunción fit the bill nicely. Having recently lost a son, might they not welcome the chance to see their remaining child live forever? More importantly, are the pleasures of middle-class life enough to keep one from joining the legions of the damned?
The Hispanic contribution to the making of the United States has been blatantly glossed over by most historians for the past three hundred years, despite the gallant effort of a handful of them who sought to do justice and set the record straight. This misrepresentation of the historical facts has rendered a whole nation to become oblivious to its true beginnings and formation, crippling its character and jeopardizing its future. This book, based on established and undisputed historical records, is a new attempt to bring out the whole truth, to make us realize how this nation really came into being. The making of present-day United States did not begin in 1607, nor was it confined to thirteen unsettled colonies barely occupying a minute portion of a vast continent. We need to set the historical clock back and then forward, from 1513 on through well past 1776, and give due credit to Spain and other Hispanic countries, such as Mexico, for laying down many of the foundations that made us what we are today. We need also to be proud of our Hispanic heritage, and trumpet it with equal fervor and appreciation as we do it with other less deserving ones. It is only then that we would be able to define our character both as a nation and as a people.
When the Past Is Always Present: Emotional Traumatization, Causes, and Cures introduces several new ideas about trauma and trauma treatment. The first of these is that another way to treat disorders arising from the mind/brain may be to use the senses. This idea, which is at the core of psychosensory therapy, forms what the author considers the "third pillar" of trauma treatment (the first and second pillars being psychotherapy and psychopharmacology). Psychosensory therapy postulates that sensory input—for example, touch—creates extrasensory activity that alters brain function and the way we respond to stimuli. The second idea presented in this book is that traumatization is encoded in the amygdala only under special circumstances. Thus, by understanding what makes an individual resistant to traumatization we can offer a way of preventing it. The third idea is that traumatization occurs because we cannot find a haven during the event. This is the cornerstone of havening, the particular form of psychosensory therapy described in the book. Using evolutionary biological principles and recently published neuroscientific studies, this book outlines in detail how havening touch de-links the emotional experience from a trauma, essentially making it just an ordinary memory. Once done, the event no longer causes distress.
In 1966, nine young men left the Arizona desert mining camp of Morenci to serve their country in the far-flung jungles of Vietnam, in danger zones from Hue to Khe Sanh. Ultimately, only three survived. Each battled survivor’s guilt, difficult re-entries into civilian life, and traumas from personally experiencing war—and losing close friends along the way. Such stories recurred throughout America, but the Morenci Marines stood out. ABC News and Time magazine recounted their moving tale during the war, and, in 2007, the Arizona Republic selected the “Morenci Nine” as the most important veterans’ story in state history. Returning to the soldiers’ Morenci roots, Kyle Longley’s account presents their story as unique by setting and circumstance, yet typical of the sacrifices borne by small towns all across America. His narrative spotlights a generation of young people who joined the military during the tumultuous 1960s and informs a later generation of the hard choices made, many with long-term consequences. The story of the Morenci Marines also reflects that of their hometown: a company town dominated by the Phelps Dodge Mining Corporation, where the company controlled lives and the labor strife was legendary. The town’s patriotic citizens saw Vietnam as a just cause, moving Clive Garcia’s mother to say, “He died for this cause of freedom.” Yet while their sons fought and sent home their paychecks, Phelps Dodge sought to destroy the union that kept families afloat, pushing the government to end a strike that it said undermined the war effort. Morenci was also a place where cultures intermingled, and the nine friends included three Mexican Americans and one Native American. Longley reveals how their backgrounds affected their decisions to join and also helped the survivors cope, with Mike Cranford racing his Harley on back roads at high speeds while Joe Sorrelman tried to deal with demons of war through Navajo rituals. Drawing on personal interviews and correspondence that sheds new light on the Morenci Nine, Longley has written a book as much about loss, grief, and guilt as about the battlefield. It makes compelling reading for anyone who lived in that era—and for anyone still seeing family members go off to fight in controversial wars.
Dew on the Thorn seeks to recreate the life of Texas Mexicans as Anglo culture was gradually encroaching upon them. Gonzalez provides us with a richly detailed portrait of South Texas, focusing on the cultural traditions of Texas Mexicans at a time when the divisions of class and race were pressing on the established way of life.
Until he was Eighteen, is a book about experiences of a 16 year old boy named Ayaz. This book is about challenges, school time love, betrayal, heartbreak, loneliness and many other issues which are experienced without being expected actually. Life serves surprises in our plate, because of which, at times we take a wrong turn or worse decisions in our life and when time gives us a tight slap, we get back to the reality and struggle to keep our life again on track which is the biggest challenge for the new generation. The book carries the author’s feelings elaborated with his emotions.
There were seven flags over Texas. The green flagit is the first flag of Texas independence. It is the spark that lit the revolt for liberty in our state. It started as a gentle glow of a peasants lantern. Then, it expanded to a beacons potent light; beckoning Don Bernardo led his army in answering the call for freedom. It was not a flag of conquest, but a flag of self-rule. It was not a flag to build an empire, but to end an unjust one. It was a precious flag, wrapping those who carried it with the ideals of equality. It was the first breath of a new life, the first step of a long journey, the sign of a new beginning. It is the green flag, the first flag of Texas independence.
The open country of Texas between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande was sparsely settled through the nineteenth century, and most of the settlers who did live there had Hispanic names that until recently were rarely admitted into the pages of Texas history. In 1935, however, a descendant of one of the old Spanish land-grant families in the region-a woman, no less-found an ingenious way to publish the history of her region at a time when neither Tejanos nor women had much voice. She told the story from the perspective of an ancient mesquite tree, under whose branches much South Texas history had passed. Her tale became an invaluable source of folk history but has long been out of print. Now, with important new introductions by Leticia M. Garza-Falcón and Andrés Tijerina, the history witnessed by El Mesquite can again inform readers of the way of life that first shaped Texas. Through the voice of the gnarled old tree, Elena Zamora O'Shea tells South Texas political and ethnographic history, filled with details of daily life such as songs, local plants and folk medicines, foods and recipes, peone/patron relations, and the Tejano ranch vocabulary. The work is an important example of the historical-folkloristic literary genre used by Mexican American writers of the period. Using the literary device of the tree's narration, O'Shea raises issues of culture, discrimination, and prejudice she could not have addressed in her own voice in that day and explicitly states the Mexican American ideology of 1930s Texas. The result is a literary and historic work of lasting value, which clearly articulates the Tejano claim to legitimacy in Texas history. ELENA ZAMORA O'SHEA (1880-1951) was born at Rancho La Noria Cardenena near Peñitas, Hidalgo County, Texas. A long-time schoolteacher, whose posts included one on the famous King Ranch, she wrote this book to help Tejano children know and claim their proud heritage.
