Field study of living conditions in a village of Bangladesh - describes historical background to poverty, the agrarian structure and agricultural production; mentions landowner attitudes, rural youth, rural women and children; examines the role of Islamic religion, marriage, the rural area social classes (particularly peasant farmers and landless agricultural workers); covers land and production relations, agricultural marketing, violence, corruption, development aid, etc. Photographs and references.

Field study of living conditions in a village of Bangladesh - describes historical background to poverty, the agrarian structure and agricultural production; mentions landowner attitudes, rural youth, rural women and children; examines the role of Islamic religion, marriage, the rural area social classes (particularly peasant farmers and landless agricultural workers); covers land and production relations, agricultural marketing, violence, corruption, development aid, etc. Photographs and references.

In this landmark work, Allen Morris Jones spends a year exploring one of the wildest ecosystems in North America, hunting and examining the philosophical issues of blood sport. In the process, he creates both a compelling defense for the hunt as well as one of the tradition’s first formal ethics. Jones argues that hunting must be right in that it returns us to the environment from which we evolved. When we hunt, we’re no longer watching nature, we’re participating in it as essential members: predator and prey. From this premise, it follows that those aspects of hunting that tend to return us to the world are more ethical, while those aspects that displace us—such as the use of modern technology—are less ethical. This simple, compelling thesis is supported by example, by the highly-personal narrative of a conscionable hunter coming to terms with the central passion of his life. And it’s a thesis that finally has profound implications for the way we each approach the natural world. If you’re a hunter, A Quiet Place of Violence will help put into words those aspects of the hunt that you have found most essential; and if you’re a non-hunter, it will offer insight into the allure of this otherwise puzzling pursuit.

Set in Cape Town's cosmopolitan neighbourhoods, this novel revolves around Tshepo, a student at Rhodes, who is confined to a mental institution after an episode of 'cannabis-induced psychosis'.

Why is a country with some of the world's most fertile land also the home of so many hungry people? Betsy Hartmann and James Boyce, both Bengali-speaking anthropologists, spent two years in Bangladesh investigating the paradox of hunger in a "basketcase" country that actually produces enough grain for its people. Needless Hunger follows the history and structure of Bangladesh society, and also draws us into the daily lives of the people of Katni, the village where the authors lived. "There is no natural barrier to filling the basic human needs of Bangladesh's people," they conclude. "But there is the man-made barrier of a social order benefiting the few at the expense of the many." They found that the foreign aid pouring into the country actually entrenches the very elite, who keep the majority powerless and hungry. Needless Hunger is also a book of hope, describing the strength and potential of the Bangladesh people, and their desire for a society where food-producing resources are controlled by the majority. Book jacket.

Tshepo, a young student at Rhodes, has a difficult time keeping up with his own strange mind. He is absorbed in making sense of a traumatic past in a violent country and so when he finds himself at the Valkenberg mental facility, it is perhaps not entirely due to cannabis-induced psychosis.

Through the compelling story of the Tierra Amarilla conflict, David Correia examines how law and property, in general, and a Mexican-period land grant in northern New Mexico, in particular, have been constituted through violence and social struggle. Spain and Mexico populated what is today New Mexico through large common property land grants to sheepherders and agriculturalists. After the U.S.-Mexican War the area saw rampant land speculation and dubious property adjudication with nearly all the grants being rejected by U.S. courts or acquired by land speculators. Of all the land grant conflicts in New Mexico's history, Tierra Amarilla is one of the most sensational, with numerous nineteenth-century speculators ranking among the state's political and economic elite and a remarkable pattern of resistance to land loss by heirs in the twentieth century. Correia narrates a long and largely unknown history of property conflict in Tierra Amarilla characterized by nearly constant violence-night riding and fence cutting, pitched gun battles, and tanks rumbling along the rutted dirt roads of northern New Mexico. The legal geography he constructs is one that includes a remarkable cast of characters: millionaire sheep barons, Spanish anarchists, hooded Klansmen, Puerto Rican freedom fighters-or as J. Edgar Hoover, another of the characters in Correia's story would have called them, "terrorists." By placing property and law at the center of his study, "Properties of Violence" first reveals and then examines a central irony: violence is not the opposite of law but rather is essential to its operation.