In the twelfth century AD, Venice is little more than an agglomeration of small islands snatched from the muddy tides. The magnificent city-lagoon of Venice, the rich and powerful Serene Republic, is yet to be born. Here, in this northern backwater, a group of artisans have proven themselves to be unrivalled in an art form that produces works of such astounding beauty that many consider it mystical in nature and think its practitioners possessed of otherworldly gifts. They are glassmakers. Presciently aware of the power they wield and the role they will play in the Venice of the future, the Venetian glassmakers inhabit a world of esoteric practices and secret knowledge that they protect at all costs. Into this world steps Edgardo D’Arduino, a cleric and a professional copyist. Edgardo’s eyesight has begun to waver—a curse for a man who makes his living copying sacred texts. But he has heard stories, perhaps legends, that in Venice, city of glassmakers, there exists a stone, the lapides ad legendum, that can restore one’s sight. However, finding men who have knowledge of this wondrous stone proves almost impossible. After much searching, Edgardo meets a mysterious man who offers him a deal: he will lead him to the makers of the lapides ad legendum in exchange for Edgardo’s stealing a secret Arabic scientific text that is kept in the abbey where Edgardo lodges. When a series of horrific crimes shakes the cloistered world of the glassmakers, Edgardo realizes that there is much more at stake than his faltering eyesight. Equal parts The Name of the Rose and The Da Vinci Code, Roberto Tiraboschi’s English-language debut is a gripping historical thriller and a magnificent recreation of Venice in the Middle Ages.

When he is pulled into another world called Timmra, thirteen-year-old Jackson finds he must fight the horrible monster Baen and arbitrate a mounting struggle between the Timran and Yakonan peoples.

Can you kill the dungeon before it kills you?

The definitive collection of nonfiction--from war reporting to literary criticism to the sharpest political writing--from the "legend of American letters" (Vanity Fair) Robert Stone was a singular American writer, a visionary whose award-winning novels--including Dog Soldiers, Outerbridge Reach, and Damascus Gate--earned him comparisons to literary lions ranging from Samuel Beckett to Ernest Hemingway to Graham Greene. Stone had an almost prophetic grasp of the spirit of his age, which he captured with crystalline clarity in each of his novels. Of course, he was also a sharp and brilliant observer of American life, and his nonfiction writing is revelatory. The Eye You See With--the first and only collection of Robert Stone's nonfiction--was carefully selected by award-winning novelist and Stone biographer Madison Smartt Bell. Divided into three sections, the collection includes the best of Stone's war reporting, his writing on social change, and his reflections on the art of fiction. This is an extraordinary volume that offers up a clear-eyed look at the 20th century and secures Robert Stone's place as one of the most original figures in all of American letters.

Children of the Stone is the unlikely story of Ramzi Hussein Aburedwan, a boy from a Palestinian refugee camp in Ramallah who confronts the occupying army, gets an education, masters an instrument, dreams of something much bigger than himself, and then inspires scores of others to work with him to make that dream a reality. That dream is of a music school in the midst of a refugee camp in Ramallah, a school that will transform the lives of thousands of children through music. Daniel Barenboim, the Israeli musician and music director of La Scala in Milan and the Berlin Opera, is among those who help Ramzi realize his dream. He has played with Ramzi frequently, at chamber music concerts in Al-Kamandjati, the school Ramzi worked so hard to build, and in the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra that Barenboim founded with the late Palestinian intellectual, Edward Said. Children of the Stone is a story about music, freedom and conflict; determination and vision. It's a vivid portrait of life amid checkpoints and military occupation, a growing movement of nonviolent resistance, the past and future of musical collaboration across the Israeli-Palestinian divide, and the potential of music to help children see new possibilities for their lives. Above all, Children of the Stone chronicles the journey of Ramzi Aburedwan, and how he worked against the odds to create something lasting and beautiful in a war-torn land.

Meet the man with the voodoo eyes:Solomon Boukman. He'd used voodoo, black magic, and extreme violence to control his people, and to keep anyone who ever heard his name in a state of fear. He'd zombified his enemies with potions and hypnosis and used them as his very own suicide killers. Some said he was the earthly incarnation of Baron Samedi, the voodoo god of death; others said he was The Devil incarnate...Meet his nemesis:For private eye Max Mingus, Boukman has been the cause of unthinkable personal tragedy and professional torment. And when he uncovers a labyrinthine web of death and deceit stretching from the Miami jetset to sinister Cuban slums, the voodoo eyes of Boukman are never far from his mind. But how can Mingus stop him without losing his life, and the lives of those he loves?Meet a thriller that will haunt your dreams.

Ben's nanna is going crazy. At least, that's what the rest of his family think. She's been sharing Ben's room since his grandad went to work overseas. The black stone in the pendant around her neck talks to her, tells her stories from its life. She retells the stories to Ben after dark. Each story has the clarity of a fable and a message about life tucked within its whispered words. Ben's nanna explains that the stone is neither good luck nor bad luck, but an amplifier of the heart-song of the owner. If they were nasty, it drew nasty things into their lives. If they were kind, it showered them with kindness. As she leaves to join her husband overseas, she gives Ben the stone and tells him to watch his thoughts . . .