Never before has Gordimer, awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1991, published such a comprehensive collection of her nonfiction. Telling Tales represents the full span of her works in that field-from the twilight of white rule in South Africa to the fight to overthrow the apartheid regime, and most recently, her role over the past seven years in confronting the contemporary phenomena of violence and the dangers of HIV. The range of this book is staggering, and the work in totality celebrates the lively perseverance of the life-loving individual in the face of political tumult, then the onslaught of a globalized world. The abiding passionate spirit that informs "A South African Childhood," a youthful autobiographical piece published in The New Yorker in 1954, can be found in each of the book's ninety-one pieces that span a period of fifty-five years. Returning to a lifetime of nonfiction work has become an extraordinary experience for Gordimer. She takes from one of her revered great writers, Albert Camus, the conviction that the writer is a "responsible human being" attuned not alone to dedication to the creation of fiction but to the political vortex that inevitably encompasses twentieth- and twenty-first-century life. Born in 1923, Gordimer, who as a child was ambitious to become a ballet dancer, was recognized at fifteen as a writing prodigy. Her sensibility was as much shaped by wide reading as it was to eye-opening sight, passing on her way to school the grim labor compounds where black gold miners lived. These twin decisives-literature and politics-infuse the book, which includes historic accounts of the political atmosphere, firsthand, after the Sharpeville Massacre of 1960 and the Soweto uprising of 1976, as well as incisive close-up portraits of Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, among others. Gordimer revisits the eternally relevant legacies of Tolstoy, Proust, and Flaubert, and engages vigorously with contemporaries like Susan Sontag, Octavio Paz, and Edward Said. But some of her most sensuous writing comes in her travelogues, where the politics of Africa blend seamlessly with its awe-inspiring nature-including spectacular recollections of childhood holidays beside South Africa's coast of the Indian Ocean and a riveting account of her journey the length of the Congo River in the wake of Conrad. Gordimer's body of work is an extraordinary vision of the world that harks back to the sensibilities-political, moral, and social-of Dickens and Tolstoy, but with a decidedly vivid contemporary consciousness. Telling Times becomes both a literary exploration and extraordinary document of social and political history in our times.

"Every page, every paragraph, every sentence sparkles with captivating metaphors, delightful verbal concoctions, alchemical insights, philosophic whimsy, absurd illogicals, scientific comedy routines, relentless, non-stop waves of hilarity. The comparisons to James Joyce are undeniable. Wow! Whew! Wild! Wonderful!"" Timothy Leary The strangest memoir you will ever read. You or your parents lived it. I helped start it. And it was an accident. It was the era of myth, legend, sex, and extreme adventure called The Sixties. "I blasted through Howard Bloom's How I Accidentally Started The Sixties like the wildfire swallowing up my mountain in California. I loved it. The molecular amusement ride, the sexual Disneyland, the Chevy 350 Impala blasting down the freeway at 120 mph. The universal essence is its brilliant simplicity.....Reality is really a mind field seen through Bloom's neurotic Buddha-like mind resplendent with every major family issue mortal humans will ever come across in a life time: identity, parents, meaning, self, non-self, food, habitation, education, goals, marriage, family, children, God, sex, more sex----DRUGS. It slithers like a rattlesnake across the page, the way a story should. What I love most is the off the wall comedy. Howard Bloom as Harpo Marx riding a freight train like Buddha carrying his life in a sleeping bag. I mean it's priceless. Bloom's psychedelic journey across the American landscape, is deciphered through the irresistible minds of murderers, crackpots, Nobel Prize Playboy bunnies, scholars, waiters, hobo gurus, cops, professors, French majors, psychiatrists, cock suckers, recreational drug users, Mormons, Jews, nut jobs, laundry mat owners, demonic children, lizards...........Aldous Huxley with a pinch of Timothy Leary.............and every molecule in the universe. It separates Bloom from any scientist/global mind who ever lived. Richard Feynman, Albert Einstein, and Aldous Huxley would be proud. Each man strived to marry science, art, and poetry but never managed to pull it off. How I Accidentally Started the Sixties does. I salute Howard Bloom. His doctrine sparkles every page with his Promethean fire; distilled in Shakespeare's immortal words, 'From women's eyes this doctrine I derive'.....[women] are the books, the arts, the academies, that show, contain and nourish the world.' Love's Labour Lost, only in Bloom's case, found, lost, and then found again. God only knows what else this mastermind is hiding from the rest of us." Mark Lamonica, winner of the Southern California Booksellers Association Nonfiction Award, author of Junk Yard Dogs And William Shakespeare and Renaissance Porn Star: The Saga of Pietro Aretino, The World's Greatest Hustler

international praise for Diane Armstrong: 'Mosaic flows like a novel which, once started, is hard to put down. It is a compelling family history of extraordinary people played out against some of the most frightening events of our century. The depth of emotions evoked is stunning. I was thrilled and deeply moved.' Joseph Heller author of Catch-22 'Diane Armstrong's book is a source of delight to the reader. Written with fervor and talent, it will capture your attention and retain it to the last page.' Elie Wiesel Nobel Prize winner a family story you'll never forget ... This extraordinary true story begins in the Polish city of Krakow in 1890 and spans one hundred years and four continents. It is the story of a Jewish family whose patriarch, Daniel Baldinger, divorces the wife he loves because she is barren. He believes 'a man must have sons to say Kaddish for him when he dies.' To ensure having children, he marries a girl of eighteen. By 1913, Daniel has eleven children - including six sons to say Kaddish for him. Impatient for his God-given son to begin learning the sacred language of the Torah, Daniel sent Avner to cheder at Chevre Tilem when he was three years old. Most boys were enrolled at four or five, but Daniel couldn't wait for Avner's rabbinical training to begin. Cheder was the place where childhood ended. At this religious day school, Jewish boys learned Hebrew and studied the Torah. No coloured pictures, childish stories or lively games relieved the tedium of this dour classroom where Avner had to memorise words he didn't understand, learn hundreds of rules and write strange squiggles. But although God has answered Daniel's prayers, it is with a bitter twist: each of his six sons rebels against his religion, and not one of them says Kaddish for him when he dies. This richly textured portrait follows these eleven children from the 1890s, through the terrifying years of the Holocaust (when Diane and her parents assumed non-Jewish names and passed themselves off as Catholics in the little village of Piszczac), to the present. A long shadow fell across the little girl tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. After watching her for a few minutes, the stranger asked, 'What's your name, little girl?' Without looking up, she replied, 'Danusia Boguslawska.' 'But what was your name before that?' he insisted. My father, Henek, who was standing by the open window, froze when he heard the last question. Instead of rushing outside and grabbing the child to prevent her from answering that insidious question, he was struck dumb and stood there helplessly awaiting her reply, on which all their lives depended. Mosaic is compelling storytelling at its best: from the fascinating detail of Polish Jewish culture at the turn of the century and the rivalries and dramas of family life, to its moving account of lives torn apart by war and prejudice, this is a remarkable story of a family, and of one woman's journey to reclaim her heritage. For centuries Poland has been a battleground whose fields, watered by more blood than rain, have nurtured ancient hatreds. Jews have not had a monopoly on suffering, grief and loss. Before we drive away from Szczakowa, I look back at the leafy street where the synagogue and mikveh stood, just a short stroll from the house on Parkowa Street. If I close my eyes, I can see a dapper white-haired gentleman in top hat and patent leather shoes like mirrors striding ahead of his wife in a flowered hat with feathers, her long full skirt rustling as she tries to keep up with him as they walk to the synagogue on Kilinskiego Street for the marriage of their daughter Lieba to Daniel Baldinger. In this forgotten country town, I've found important pieces of the mosaic.

The second volume in the Nobel Prize winning author Elias Canetti's trilogy of memoirs, The Torch in My Ear This book presents an account of Canetti's young manhood, of his arrival in Vienna in the early 1920s, of his schooling, and of the beginning of his life as a writer.

The Play of the Eyes is the third volume in Nobel Prize winning author Elias Canetti's trilogy of memoirs. Here, Canetti describes his young adult life as he tries to make it as a writer in Vienna during the 1930s, and provides vivid accounts of the remarkable figures he meets along the way, usually in cafes, from Robert Musil, Thomas Mann, and Herman Broch, among others. "Canetti uses a dramatist's gifts here to achieve emotional depth; his mother's death, sketched simply against the backdrop of a crumbling Europe, takes on a tragic dignity." - Publishers Weekly