This charming tale explores God in creation and God in the ordinary. It is a wonderful conversation starter between child and adult about the mysteries of our Creator. When I first thought about writing "But Nana" it was because I wanted to share something of the God I had come to experience in my life. A great deal of my understanding stems from my 25 year involvement at the Franciscan International Study Centre in Canterbury and the Franciscan spirituality that I discovered there. Then I began to think of all the grandparents who had watched their children turn their back on the church and consequently their grandchildren missing out on a part of life that for them had been so important. To those grandparents I would like to say, "Don't forget God only has children... no grandchildren and certainly no great grandchildren!" All of the proceeds of this book will be donated to Mary's Meals who's global vision is that every child deserves an education and enough to eat. www.marysmeals.org (Registered Charity Number SC022140)

French realism's immortal siren crawled from the gutter to the heights of society, devouring men and squandering fortunes along the way. Zola's 1880s classic is among the first modern novels.

'She was the golden beast, an unconscious force, the very scent of her could bring the world to ruin.' Nana, daughter of a drunk and a laundress, is the Helen of Troy of Paris. A sexually magnetic high-class prostitute and actress, she becomes a celebrity, rapidly conquering society, ruining all men who fall under her spell-especially Count Muffat, Chamberlain to the Empress. Nana herself meets a terrible fate, consumed by her own dissipation and extravagance, just as the disastrous war with Prussia is declared. Nana is the ninth instalment in the twenty volume Rougon-Macquart series. The novel opens in 1867, the year of the World Fair, when Paris, thronged by a cosmopolitan élite, was la Ville Lumière, the glittering setting-and object-of Zola's scathing denunciation of society's hypocrisy and moral corruption. Nana comes to symbolize the Second Empire regime itself in all its excesses; but in the final chapters, the narrator seems to suggest that the coming disaster not so much as a result of the corruption of the Empire, as of rampant female sexuality.

My Singing Nana is a compassionate tribute to families dealing with Alzheimer's Disease. This story celebrates the ideals of family, heritage, and happy memories, showing kids that no matter how their loved one might change they always have ways to maintain their special connection. “In a context perfect for the understanding of elementary-aged children, award-winning author and acclaimed literary critic Pat Mora sheds light on the everyday experiences of a family member living with dementia. In My Singing Nana Mora eloquently demonstrates that, despite the hefty toll this devastating disease can take, grandchildren and children alike can still enjoy meaningful and heartfelt relationships with those affected.” —San Francisco Book Review

A young boy is frightened by how busy and noisy the city is when he goes there to visit his Nana, but she makes him a fancy red cape that keeps him from being scared as she shows him how wonderful a place it is.

NANA CHAPTER I At nine o'clock in the evening the body of the house at the Theatres des Varietes was still all but empty. A few individuals, it is true, were sitting quietly waiting in the balcony and stalls, but these were lost, as it were, among the ranges of seats whose coverings of cardinal velvet loomed in the subdued light of the dimly burning luster. A shadow enveloped the great red splash of the curtain, and not a sound came from the stage, the unlit footlights, the scattered desks of the orchestra. It was only high overhead in the third gallery, round the domed ceiling where nude females and children flew in heavens which had turned green in the gaslight, that calls and laughter were audible above a continuous hubbub of voices, and heads in women's and workmen's caps were ranged, row above row, under the wide-vaulted bays with their gilt-surrounding adornments. Every few seconds an attendant would make her appearance, bustling along with tickets in her hand and piloting in front of her a gentleman and a lady, who took their seats, he in his evening dress, she sitting slim and undulant beside him while her eyes wandered slowly round the house. Two young men appeared in the stalls; they kept standing and looked about them. "Didn't I say so, Hector?" cried the elder of the two, a tall fellow with little black mustaches. "We're too early! You might quite well have allowed me to finish my cigar." An attendant was passing.