The 1971 East Pakistan tragedy was not just a failure of the military but also a collapse of civil society in the West Wing. The few voices raised against the military action were too feeble to make the army change its course, a course that lead to military defeat and the break-up of the country. At the time, the author was GOC 14 Division in East Pakistan. Apart from his direct narration of the events, his portrayal of the major dramatis personae, such as Field Marshal Ayub Khan, General Yahya Khan, Lt. Gen. Tikka Khan and Lt. Gen. A.A.K. Niazi, are insightful. A necessary text that demands scrutiny from all interested in the course of Pakistan's history.

A moving and unsettling exploration of a young man's formative years in a country still struggling with its past As a Jew in postwar Germany, Yascha Mounk felt like a foreigner in his own country. When he mentioned that he is Jewish, some made anti-Semitic jokes or talked about the superiority of the Aryan race. Others, sincerely hoping to atone for the country's past, fawned over him with a forced friendliness he found just as alienating. Vivid and fascinating, Stranger in My Own Country traces the contours of Jewish life in a country still struggling with the legacy of the Third Reich and portrays those who, inevitably, continue to live in its shadow. Marshaling an extraordinary range of material into a lively narrative, Mounk surveys his countrymen's responses to "the Jewish question." Examining history, the story of his family, and his own childhood, he shows that anti-Semitism and far-right extremism have long coexisted with self-conscious philo-Semitism in postwar Germany. But of late a new kind of resentment against Jews has come out in the open. Unnoticed by much of the outside world, the desire for a "finish line" that would spell a definitive end to the country's obsession with the past is feeding an emphasis on German victimhood. Mounk shows how, from the government's pursuit of a less "apologetic" foreign policy to the way the country's idea of the Volk makes life difficult for its immigrant communities, a troubled nationalism is shaping Germany's future.

“I lived the same life as everyone else, the life of ordinary people, the masses.” Sitting in a prison cell in the autumn of 1944, the German author Hans Fallada sums up his life under the National Socialist dictatorship, the time of “inward emigration”. Under conditions of close confinement, in constant fear of discovery, he writes himself free from the nightmare of the Nazi years. He records his thoughts about spying and denunciation, about the threat to his livelihood and his literary work and about the fate of many friends and contemporaries. The confessional mode did not come naturally to Fallada, but in the mental and emotional distress of 1944, self-reflection became a survival strategy. Fallada’s frank and sometimes provocative memoirs were thought for many years to have been lost. They are published here for the first time.

‘I lived the same life as everyone else, the life of ordinary people, the masses.’ Sitting in a prison cell in the autumn of 1944, Hans Fallada sums up his life under the National Socialist dictatorship, the time of ‘inward emigration’. Under conditions of close confinement, in constant fear of discovery, he writes himself free from the nightmare of the Nazi years. His frank and sometimes provocative memoirs were thought for many years to have been lost. They are published here in English for the first time. The confessional mode did not come naturally to Fallada the writer of fiction, but in the mental and emotional distress of 1944, self-reflection became a survival strategy. In the ‘house of the dead’ he exacts his political revenge on paper. ‘I know that I am crazy. I’m risking not only my own life, I’m also risking … the lives of many of the people I am writing about’, he notes, driven by the compulsion to write. And write he does – about spying and denunciation, about the threat to his livelihood and his literary work, about the fate of many friends and contemporaries such as Ernst Rowohlt and Emil Jannings. To conceal his intentions and to save paper, he uses abbreviations. His notes, constantly exposed to the gaze of the prison warders, become a kind of secret code. He finally succeeds in smuggling the manuscript out of the prison, although it remained unpublished for half a century. These revealing memoirs by one of the best-known German writers of the 20th century will be of great interest to all readers of modern literature.

The central argument of the thesis, the representation and reception of otherness, is followed throughout White's novels with the support of a complex critical instrumentarium made up of postcolonial theory, reader response theory, cultural-critical frameworks, alterity theory, and narratology. Otherness in its manifold representations is a main component of Patrick White's fiction. It functions on several levels and this requires a deeper entanglement on the part of the reader. The different levels previously referred to are embodied in the various Others who people White's novels: ethnic Others as members of the Australian multicultural society and the Aborigines as colonial Others, as well as gender Others, who also play an important role in White's fictional world. Reading Patrick White is an exercise in tolerance, endurance and acceptance of alternatives. But the efforts of the reader do not remain unrewarded. In his endeavour to change what it meant to imagine Australia, the writer broke down the barriers of what it meant to imagine otherness.

"Tragedy of a doctor, one-eighth negro, who returns to Virginia with his white wife and daughter." Cf. Hanna, A. Mirror for the nation