In fifteen sharply engaging essays, acclaimed novelist and short story writer Brock Clarke examines the art (and artifice) of fiction from unpredictable, entertaining, and often personal angles, positing through a slant scrutiny of place, voice, and syntax what fiction can--and can't--do. ("Very: is there a weaker, sadder, more futile word in the English language?") Clarke supports his case with passages by and about writers who have both influenced and irritated him. Pieces such as "What the Cold Can Teach Us," "The Case for Meanness," "Why Good Literature Makes Us Bad People," and "The Novel is Dead; Long Live the Novel" celebrate the achievements of master practitioners such as Muriel Spark, Joy Williams, Donald Barthelme, Flannery O'Connor, Paul Beatty, George Saunders, John Cheever, and Colson Whitehead. Of particular interest to Clarke is the contentious divide between fiction and memoir, which he investigates using recent and relevant critical arguments, also tackling ancillary forms such as "fictional memoir" and the autobiographical novel. Anecdotal and unabashed, rigorous and piercingly perceptive--not to mention flat-out funny--I, Grape; or The Case for Fiction is a love letter to and a passionate defense of the discipline to which its author has devoted his life and mind. It is also an attempt to eff the ineffable: "That is one of the basic tenets of this book: when we write fiction, surprising things sometimes happen, especially when fiction writers take advantage of their chosen form's contrarian ability to surprise."

A passport to freedom that shows how to find fun, food, shelter, and income on land that may be within easy-driving distance of the city and suburbs. Why work a lifetime, asks Angier, to accumulate enough money to retire from the rat race during the last, least active years of life, when a little ground can provide healthful, relaxed living—now—and income too? One Acre and Security explains how “three-squares-a-day” and money to spend can come from the earth with instructions on: sheep or pig farming, raising bees for honey, keeping dairy herbs of cows or goats, making money with herb culture, raising and selling rabbits and earthworms, running a poultry farm, raising fish, frogs, and turtles for profit and fun. Angier, the man who has done it all himself, shares too what he has learned about some of the ways to eat from nature’s free banquet table, how to stretch country-living with hikes on famous trails or on any untrammeled path, where to find the best hunting and fishing, and how to catch bigger, healthier fish. “This book is written for those who want to move—not to the distant wilderness—but just far enough away from the smog and the screaming traffic to be where meat will be theirs for the raising, fish for the catching, fruit and vegetables for the picking, fuel for the cutting, home for the satisfaction of building…breathing cleaner air, beholden to none, doing what they want to do most and giving it their best,” says Bradford Angier in One Acre and Security…

The classic USDA handbook to self-reliant living, now completely revised and updated.

The worst thing possible has happened. Richard and Juliette Willoughby's son, Ewan, has died suddenly at the age of five. Starve Acre, their house by the moors, was to be full of life, but is now a haunted place. Juliette, convinced Ewan still lives there in some form, seeks the help of the Beacons, a seemingly benevolent group of occultists. Richard, to try and keep the boy out of his mind, has turned his attention to the field opposite the house, where he patiently digs the barren dirt in search of a legendary oak tree. Starve Acre is a devastating new novel by the author of the prize-winning bestseller The Loney. It is a novel about the way in which grief splits the world in two and how, in searching for hope, we can so easily unearth horror.

Thomas Philipp's study of Acre combines the most extensive use to date of local Arabic sources with commercial records in Europe to shed light on a region and power center many identify as the beginning of modern Palestinian history. The third largest city in eighteenth-century Syria—after Aleppo and Damascus—Acre was the capital of a politically and economically unique region on the Mediterranean coast that included what is today northern Israel and southern Lebanon. In the eighteenth century, Acre grew dramatically from a small fishing village to a fortified city of some 25,000 inhabitants. Cash crops (first cotton, then grain) made Acre the center of trade and political power and linked it inextricably to the world economy. Acre was markedly different from other cities in the region: its urban society consisted almost exclusively of immigrants seeking their fortune. The rise and fall of Acre in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Thomas Philipp argues, must be seen against the background of the decay of central power in the Ottoman empire. Destabilization of imperial authority allowed for the resurfacing of long-submerged traditional power centers and the integration of Arab regions into European and world economies. This larger imperial context proves the key to addressing many questions about the local history of Acre and its peripheries. How were the new sources of wealth and patterns of commerce that remade Acre reconciled with traditional forms of political power and social organization? Were these forms really traditional? Or did entirely new classes develop under the circumstances of an immigrant society and new commercial needs? And why did Acre, after such propitious beginnings as a center of export trade and political and military power strong enough to defy Napoleon, give way to the dazzling rise of Beirut in the nineteenth century? For centuries the object of the Crusader's fury and the trader's envy, Acre is here restored to its full significance at a crucial moment in Middle Eastern history.

The Holy Land, 1291.A war has been raging across these lands for decades. The forces of the Crusaders have been pushed back again and again by the Muslims and now just one city remains in Crusader control. That one city stands between the past and the future. One city which must be defended at all costs. That city is Acre. And into this battle where men will fight to the death to defend their city comes a young boy. Green and scared, he has never seen battle before. But he is on the run from a dark past and he has no choice but to stay. And to stay means to fight. That boy is Baldwin de Furnshill. This is the story of the siege of Acre, and of the moment Baldwin first charged into battle. This is just the beginning. The rest is history.