I'm underneath the bed, hardly poking out my head. It's a squeeze and hurts my knees, but I don't care. Can you guess, do you know, why I whisper soft and low? Something out there is very scary. And it's coming this way.

Shyann Dinico was ready to leave her planet. Behind her, there was nothing but pain, tragedy, and lossthe loss of family and the loss of love. In an effort to escape, she agreed to take part in a voluntary mission to a new world, far from home. She would act as a chaperone to a group of young women. She would help them learn and assimilate to their new culture; they would help her move beyond past pain. She never dreamed shed meet Commander Sarden Nemarco and fall in love with him, after all she had lost on her own planet. Nemarco can hardly believe it himself. A man of duty, he does not have time for love. Even so, there is something about Shyann that he cant turn away from, and his passionthe Matringcannot be appeased without their love. When one of his kind is found murdered, however, Nemarco finds himself investigating the visitors from Shyanns planet. It is believed that one of the exchange women from space may be to blame. Nemarco cant believe Shyann could be involved. Can he protect her from his own people, or will tragedy strike again in the form of death and lost love? Only the Matring knows.

To escape a brutal life on the Liverpool docks, a boy runs away to sea Arthur Fearon is nearly thirteen, and in the eyes of the law, that makes him a man. He wants to study to become a chemist, but his family cannot afford for him to continue school. The thought of a life working the docks makes Fearon break down in front of his classmates, but there is no time to cry. This boy has to get to work. The docks are hellish, and Fearon’s first day is his last. He hops a steamer to Alexandria, looking for a better life on the sea, but everywhere he goes, he finds cruelty, vice, and the crushing weight of adulthood. He will not be a man for long. The subject of an infamous 1930s obscenity trial, this is the original, unexpurgated text of James Hanley’s landmark novel: an unflinching examination of child labor and a timeless tale of adulthood gained too soon.

The author, a computer science professor diagnosed with terminal cancer, explores his life, the lessons that he has learned, how he has worked to achieve his childhood dreams, and the effect of his diagnosis on him and his family.

It is June of 1976 when Atticus Gunner pulls up in front of West High School, parks in a visitor parking space, and walks into the buildingready to begin his foray into school administration as the new assistant principal. He has no idea that in just a few hours, his life will change forever. Later that day, during an unexpected meeting with his divorce attorney, Gunnera former member of a top-secret operations unitfinds that his unique experience of identifying and hunting down escaped Nazis suspected of war atrocities is once again in high demand. After an anonymous philanthropic organization makes him a job offer he cannot refuse, he and his two young daughters very shortly find themselves on a thirty-two-foot sloop headed for an island in northern Lake Michigan. Directed to head a school of only one hundred students, it is not long before Gunner realizes he has embarked on a dangerous adventure. In this riveting thriller filled with unexpected twists and turns, one man is inadvertently propelled on an unforgettable journey through intrigue, romance, and murder. In the process, hell discover more about himself than he ever imagined.

East Before South is the tale of a very long trip that began, innocently enough, with a fabulous party in Rio de Janeiro. The journey will take you on a ride in rattletrap buses, dugout canoes, camel trucks, army convoys, sea ferries, and clapped-out trains. It will take you through places not on any map. With hundreds of (sometimes) irreverent travel anecdotes of the kind you just won’t find in any other travel book, it’s the unvarnished truth. It will show you the world the way it really is. From Rio, the road took me across the heartland of Brazil to Belem at the mouth of the mighty Amazon and upriver into the heart of the jungle. Then down the coast for the Carnaval and further down still, hugging the beaches, toward Argentina and Buenos Aires. Tango. To the very tip of the continent: wind-blasted Patagonia. Up again, a yoyo trip, north to Salta, and through the unofficial border to Bolivia’s wild west. Then: a transcontinental flight to Europe: family and friends in Poland, then —Quickly!— across the Baltic Republics to the Russian border, where I was arrested and deported before I could properly enter the country. Two days later, back again, toward Moscow again, and farther east still, always east, on the Tran Siberian Express bound for Ulan Bator. A weeklong journey across the wasteland of Siberia to Mongolia: there are roads there, yes, like there are tracks on Mars. The Mongolians have a saying: “Two Chinese are worth one Korean. Two Koreans are worth one Japanese. Two Japanese are worth one Mongolian.” But that, of course, is a lie. South, then, toward Beijing and then more south to Shanghai and more south still to Hong Kong: stopping in places for reasons that are never specifically clear, the road taking me ever farther from the beginning. Hot-air balloon over Guilin. Then Bangkok in a blur: after a day of intensive culinary tuition, I can now burn Thai food with as much efficiency as I burn everything else. Then an island where I've been before —Ko Samui— which is no longer the same. Back to Bangkok. To Borneo. Back to Bangkok. To Manila. Then Alaska. Then half-neglected, half-lost, the ancient city of Leh: prophetic words on the roof of the world, their truth distilled to its crudest essence. Then, finally, South Korea: “The Soul of Asia” as proclaim the tourist slogan slapped across the fleet of taxis that cruise the wide boulevards of Seoul. From Korea, from Japan, around the Ring of Fire: Taipei, albeit ever so quickly: touch-and-go, really. KL for a massage. Singapore for the Singapore Sling. Then from the coffee plantations and volcanoes of Java to the primary rainforests and spiritual smorgasbord of Sulawesi and Bali: surfers’ paradise. Indonesia encompasses over 13,000 islands with 336 ethnic groups and a borderless rainbow babel of different languages, cultures and traditions. In addition to coffee-colored Hindus, Christians and Buddhists, this is the home of more Muslims than all the Middle East. Linking the islands is the lingua franca of Bahasa and an underlying songline of history: animist religions are uniting threads that cross oceans, adding layers of meaning to the word “multicultural”. Here some Muslims drink beer and arak in addition to java; some worship Buddha, Vishnu, Krishna, and Jesus in addition to Allah; while others leave offerings to good and evil pagan spirits (tourists included). In fact, clutched in the talons of the mythical Garuda, the national airline and state crest, is the motto “Unity in Diversity”. I muse about that in an undertaker’s shop, where he sells coffins and Coca-Cola side-by-side, and at the same time, it seems. There was much more. I hitched rides on logging trucks and dugout canoes, traveling often alone, crisscrossing language-zones and time-zones, transfixed by an idea of the world…, a way around it. The fourth book of the Travelogues, "East Before South" is a story of that trip.