Napalm, incendiary gel that sticks to skin and burns to the bone, came into the world on Valentine’s Day 1942 at a secret Harvard war research laboratory. On March 9, 1945, it created an inferno that killed over 87,500 people in Tokyo—more than died in the atomic explosions at Hiroshima or Nagasaki. It went on to incinerate sixty-four of Japan’s largest cities. The Bomb got the press, but napalm did the work. After World War II, the incendiary held the line against communism in Greece and Korea—Napalm Day led the 1950 counter-attack from Inchon—and fought elsewhere under many flags. Americans generally applauded, until the Vietnam War. Today, napalm lives on as a pariah: a symbol of American cruelty and the misguided use of power, according to anti-war protesters in the 1960s and popular culture from Apocalypse Now to the punk band Napalm Death and British street artist Banksy. Its use by Serbia in 1994 and by the United States in Iraq in 2003 drew condemnation. United Nations delegates judged deployment against concentrations of civilians a war crime in 1980. After thirty-one years, America joined the global consensus, in 2011. Robert Neer has written the first history of napalm, from its inaugural test on the Harvard College soccer field, to a Marine Corps plan to attack Japan with millions of bats armed with tiny napalm time bombs, to the reflections of Phan Thi Kim Phuc, a girl who knew firsthand about its power and its morality.

Get out! Run! We must leave this place! They are going to destroy this whole place! Go, children, run first! Go now! These were the final shouts nine year-old Kim Phuc heard before her world dissolved into flames—before napalm bombs fell from the sky, burning away her clothing and searing deep into her skin. It’s a moment forever captured, an iconic image that has come to define the horror and violence of the Vietnam War. Kim was left for dead in a morgue; no one expected her to survive the attack. Napalm meant fire, and fire meant death. Against all odds, Kim lived—but her journey toward healing was only beginning. When the napalm bombs dropped, everything Kim knew and relied on exploded along with them: her home, her country’s freedom, her childhood innocence and happiness. The coming years would be marked by excruciating treatments for her burns and unrelenting physical pain throughout her body, which were constant reminders of that terrible day. Kim survived the pain of her body ablaze, but how could she possibly survive the pain of her devastated soul? Fire Road is the true story of how she found the answer in a God who suffered Himself; a Savior who truly understood and cared about the depths of her pain. Fire Road is a story of horror and hope, a harrowing tale of a life changed in an instant—and the power and resilience that can only be found in the power of God’s mercy and love.

A hilarious new collection of razor-sharp observations from the New York Times bestselling author of Brain Droppings. Few comics make the transition from stage to page as smoothly or successfully as George Carlin. Brain Droppings spent a total of 40 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, and this new one is certain to tickle even more ribs (and rattle a few more cages) with its characteristically ironic take on life's annoying universal truths. In Napalm & Silly Putty, Carlin doesn't steer clear of the tough issues, preferring instead to look life boldly in the eye to pose the questions few dare to ask: How can it be a spy satellite if they announce on TV that it's a spy satellite? Why do they bother saying "raw sewage"? Do some people cook that stuff? In the expression "topsy-turvy," what exactly is meant by "turvy"? And he makes some startling observations, including: Most people with low self-esteem have earned it. Guys don't seem to be called "Lefty" anymore. Most people don't know what they're doing, and a lot of them are really good at it. Carlin also waxes wickedly philosophical on all sorts of subjects, including: KIDS--They're not all cute. In fact, if you look at them closely, some of them are rather unpleasant looking. And a lot of them don't smell too good either. DEATH ROW--If you're condemned to die they have to give you one last meal of your own request. What is that all about? A group of people plan to kill you, so they want you to eat something you like? Add to the mix "The Ten Most Embarrassing Songs of All Time," "The 20th Century Hostility Scoreboard," and "People I Can Do Without," and you have an irresistibly insouciant assortment of musings, questions, assertions, and assumptions guaranteed to please the millions of fans waiting for the next Carlin collection--and the millions more waiting to discover this comic genius.

"Song of Napalm is more than a collection of beautifully wrought, heartwrenching, and often very funny poems. It's a narrative, the story of an American innocent's descent into hell and his excruciating return to life on the surface. Weigl may have written the best novel so far about the Vietnam War, and along the way a dozen truly memorable poems." -- Russell Banks

Napalm was invented on Valentine’s Day 1942 at a secret Harvard war research laboratory. It created an inferno that killed over 87,500 people in Tokyo—more than died in the atomic explosions at Hiroshima or Nagasaki—and went on to incinerate 64 Japanese cities. The Bomb got the press, but napalm did the work. Robert Neer offers the first history.

A novel of courage, heroism, and unbreakable bonds forged in the heat of battle.

'Tender Napalm' is a high-impact, high-concept two handed play which explores the landscape that is a relationship between a man and a woman. Explosive, poetic, brutal and ultimately redemptive, the play weaves a compelling theatrical tapestry to re-examine and re-define the language of love.