In this gripping novel, a once-prominent artist grapples with the fallout of a personal crisis that has derailed her career. As she returns to New York City, she’s determined to reclaim her place in the art world, but she faces both external obstacles and internal demons that threaten her progress. The story follows her as she embarks on a journey of self-discovery, confronting her past mistakes and the pressures of her high-profile life. Along the way, she encounters a diverse cast of characters who challenge and support her in unexpected ways. Through a series of poignant and dramatic events, she learns to navigate the complexities of her relationships, confront her fears, and ultimately find redemption. Set against the vibrant backdrop of New York, this novel is a powerful exploration of resilience, transformation, and the indomitable human spirit.

Playing Real: Mimesis, Media, and Mischief explores the integration and interaction of mimetic theatricality and representational media in twentieth- and twenty‐first-century performance. It brings together carefully chosen sites of performance—including live broadcasts of theatrical productions, reality television, and alternate-reality gaming—in which mediatization and mimesis compete and collude to represent the real to audiences. Lindsay Brandon Hunter reads such performances as forcing confrontation between notions of authenticity, sincerity, and spontaneity and their various others: the fake, the feigned, the staged, or the rehearsed. Each site examined in Playing Real purports to show audiences something real—real theater, real housewives, real alternative scenarios—which is simultaneously visible as overtly constructed, adulterated by artifice and artificiality. The integration of mediatization and theatricality in these performances, Hunter argues, exploits the proclivities of both to conjure the real even as they risk corrupting the perception of authenticity by imbricating it with artifice and overt manipulation. Although the performances analyzed obscure boundaries separating actual from virtual, genuine from artificial, and truth from fiction, Hunter rejects the notion that these productions imperil the “real.” She insists on uncertainty as a fertile site for productive and pleasurable mischief—including relationships to realness and authenticity among both audience and participants.

Dex Pratt’s life has been turned upside down. His parents have divorced and his mother has remarried. When his father attempts suicide and fails, Dex returns to their small town to care for him. But he’s not prepared for how much everything has changed. Gone are the nice house, new cars, fancy bikes and other toys. Now he and his wheelchair-bound dad live in a rotting rented house at the back of a cornfield. And, worse, his father has given up defending marijuana growers in his law practice and has become one himself. Unable to cope, Dex begins smoking himself into a state of surrealism. He begins to lose touch with what is real and what he is imagining. And then there are the aliens...and the girl-of-his-dreams...and the crop circle...

American viewers are attracted to what they see as the non-scripted, unpredictable freshness of reality television. But although the episodes may not be scripted, the shows are constructed within a deliberately designed framework, reflecting societal values. The political, economic and personal issues of reality TV are in many ways simply an exaggerated version of everyday life, allowing us to identify (perhaps more closely than we care to admit) with the characters onscreen. With 16 essays from scholars around the world, this volume discusses the notion of representation in reality television. It explores how both audiences and producers negotiate the gulf between representations and truth in reality shows such as Survivor, The Apprentice, Big Brother, The Nanny, American Idol, Extreme Makeover, Joe Millionaire and The Amazing Race. Various identity categories and character types found in these shows are discussed and the accuracy of their television portrayal examined. Dealing with the concept of reality, audience reception, gender roles, minority portrayal and power issues, the book provides an in-depth look at what we see, or think we see, in "reality" TV. Instructors considering this book for use in a course may request an examination copy here.

Reality is deadly when you go off script. Bliss Island seems like an idyllic place to live - especially to the people suffering on the war-torn mainland. What's not so idyllic about Bliss is the fact that the Island is a set, and everyone's life is a performance; they're all stars of a hit reality TV show, Blissful Days. Characters on the show think they're better off on Bliss than the mainland, but they're always in danger of being cut if their ratings dip too low. And no one really knows what happens to cut characters. Nettie Starling has never had great ratings, so it seems lucky when a producer offers suggestions to help her improve. But she'll soon have to decide how far she'll go to preserve her ratings ... especially when she learns what could happen to her if she doesn't.

Offers an expose of reality television programs, and discusses the reasons why the genre has been successful.

How we talk about games as real or not-real, and how that shapes what games are made and who is invited to play them. In videogame criticism, the worst insult might be “That's not a real game!” For example, “That's not a real game, it's on Facebook!” and “That's not a real game, it's a walking simulator!” But how do people judge what is a real game and what is not—what features establish a game's gameness? In this engaging book, Mia Consalvo and Christopher Paul examine the debates about the realness or not-realness of videogames and find that these discussions shape what games get made and who is invited to play them. Consalvo and Paul look at three main areas often viewed as determining a game's legitimacy: the game's pedigree (its developer), the content of the game itself, and the game's payment structure. They find, among other things, that even developers with a track record are viewed with suspicion if their games are on suspect platforms. They investigate game elements that are potentially troublesome for a game's gameness, including genres, visual aesthetics, platform, and perceived difficulty. And they explore payment models, particularly free-to-play—held by some to be a marker of illegitimacy. Finally, they examine the debate around such so-called walking simulators as Dear Esther and Gone Home. And finally, they consider what purpose is served by labeling certain games “real."