Article I, Section 8, Clause 17 of the Constitution of the United States grants Congress complete authority over the seat of government, the District of Columbia. This clause creates an infirmity that renders the residents of the District without the same measure of democracy enjoyed by Americans in the states. Various remedies have been attempted, none of which put the residents of the District on par with their fellow Americans. This book presents a political analysis of the relationship between Congress and the local government of Washington, D.C. It examines the influence of suburban members of Congress on District affairs, the fiscal crisis of the 1980s and 1990s, governmental inefficiency, and the Control Board.

Ian always follows the rules. His sister, Jenny, breaks them all the time -- especially "Don't pinch." So Ian is thrilled when the house where his family is vacationing posts a tidy list of rules. But when Jenny breaks them all, the house itself decides it's time for payback. The rug, the stove, and the bathtub are hungry for rulebreaker soup, and they've found the perfect ingredient: Jenny! Now Ian is faced with a thorny question: What if saving your sister means breaking the rules? From the New York Times best-selling team of Mac Barnett and Matthew Myers comes a hilarious tale of sibling rivalry, moral complexity, and disgruntled monsters, perfect for sharing with your own favorite rulebreakers. Praise for Count the Monkeys "This spot-on spoof of counting books is the perfect reward for anyone who's put in a hard day's work with numbers, big or small." -- Publishers Weekly, starred review Praise for Oh No! Not Again! "Wonderfully ridiculous in premise and execution and abounding in creative touches, this will surely spark student spinoffs." -- Kirkus Reviews, starred review Praise for Chloe and the Lion "[R]at-a-tat dialogue and fresh visuals should keep it at the top of the bedtime pile." -- Publishers Weekly Praise for Mustache "Youngsters will get a kick out of this kingly comedy?." -- Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Praise for Oh No! * "A must-have." -- Kirkus Reviews, starred review Praise for Billy Twitters and His Blue Whale Problem "Definitely funny and slyly subversive." -Kirkus Reviews, starred review

On America’s western frontier, myths of prosperity concealed the brutal conditions endured by women, slaves, orphans, and the poor. As poverty and unrest took root in eighteenth-century Kentucky, western lawmakers championed ideas about whiteness, manhood, and patriarchal authority to help stabilize a politically fractious frontier. Honor Sachs combines rigorous scholarship with an engaging narrative to examine how conditions in Kentucky facilitated the expansion of rights for white men in ways that would become a model for citizenship in the country as a whole. Endorsed by many prominent western historians, this groundbreaking work is a major contribution to frontier scholarship.

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Small Great Things and the modern classics My Sister’s Keeper, The Storyteller, and more, comes a “complex, compassionate, and smart” (The Washington Post) novel about a family torn apart by a murder accusation. When your son can’t look you in the eye…does that mean he’s guilty? Jacob Hunt is a teen with Asperger’s syndrome. He’s hopeless at reading social cues or expressing himself well to others, though he is brilliant in many ways. He has a special focus on one subject—forensic analysis. A police scanner in his room clues him in to crime scenes, and he’s always showing up and telling the cops what to do. And he’s usually right. But when Jacob’s small hometown is rocked by a terrible murder, law enforcement comes to him. Jacob’s behaviors are hallmark Asperger’s, but they look a lot like guilt to the local police. Suddenly the Hunt family, who only want to fit in, are thrust directly in the spotlight. For Jacob’s mother, it’s a brutal reminder of the intolerance and misunderstanding that always threaten her family. For his brother, it’s another indication why nothing is normal because of Jacob. And for the frightened small town, the soul-searing question looms: Did Jacob commit murder? House Rules is “a provocative story in which [Picoult] explores the pain of trying to comprehend the people we love—and reminds us that the truth often travels in disguise” (People).

A compelling, at times horrifying work that is impossible to put down, House Rules will stand beside Running With Scissors and The Glass Castle as a memoir that cracks open the shell of a desperately dysfunctional family with impressive grace and humour. Rachel Sontag grew up the daughter of a well-liked doctor in an upper middle class suburb of Chicago. The view from outside couldn’t have been more perfect. But within the walls of the family home, Rachel’s life was controlled and indeed terrorized by her father’s serious depression. In prose that is both precise and rich, Rachel’s childhood experience unfolds in a chronological recounting that shows how her father became more and more disturbed as Rachel grew up. A visceral and wrenching exploration of the impact of a damaged psyche on those nearest to him, House Rules will keep you reading even when you most wish you could look away. In the middle of the night, Dad sent Mom to wake me. In my pajamas, I sat across from them in the living room. I was sure Grandma had died and I remember deciding to stay strong when Dad told me. “What did you say to her?” he asked. His elbows rested in his lap. “What do you mean?” “You spent a good half hour alone in that hospital room. What did you talk about?” “I don’t know, Dad” “What do you mean, you don’t know? You know. You know exactly what you talked to her about.” “You talked about me, Rachel.” “No. I didn’t.” “To my own mother?” . . . . I wondered how he’d been with Mom, how she’d missed the signs. He couldn’t have just turned crazy all of a sudden. I wondered if his own father had infected him with anger. But mostly, I wanted to know what he saw in me that caused him to break up inside. Was it in my being born or in my growing up? --from House Rules