'Twelve Faces of Time' looks in-depth at the work of 12 master craftsmen in the field of horology.

A research professor of nuclear physics explores the mysterious essence of time in its two aspects---one of accurate measurement, the other of human sensation---as it is found in the concepts of modern physics and major religions.

The acclaimed program for fostering empathy and emotional literacy in children—with the goal of creating a more civil society, one child at a time Roots of Empathy—an evidence-based program developed in 1996 by longtime educator and social entrepreneur Mary Gordon—has already reached more than a million children in 14 countries, including Canada, the US, Japan, Australia, and the UK. Now, as The New York Times reports that “empathy lessons are spreading everywhere amid concerns over the pressure on students from high-stakes tests and a race to college that starts in kindergarten,” Mary Gordon explains the value of and how best to nurture empathy and social and emotional literacy in all children—and thereby reduce aggression, antisocial behavior, and bullying.

This guy is tough, and so is his message. (By Ruben Rosario, Pioneer Press, St. Paul, MN August 2011. Edited for length) Like the U.S. Postal Service, apparently nothing keeps Larry Bauer-Scandin - foster dad to 125 - from his self-appointed rounds. Not the weather. Not the heart ailments or the genetic neurological disorder that robbed him of movement and rendered him legally blind. The 64-year-old Vadnais Heights resident just gets up and does it. "My life was normal for the first nine years of my life until 1957 when my foot went to sleep, except that my foot never woke up," Bauer-Scandin told a group of inmates from the 3100 unit at the Dakota County Jail. But that's not the main message that Bauer-Scandin, a retired probation officer and jail counselor, wants to deliver on this day. "Whom do you blame for your problems?" he asks the group of 34 men, who are members of IMC, or Inmates Motivated to Change. Under the program, inmates with chemical dependency or mostly nonviolent offenses sign an agreement to take part in several programs and pledge not to make the same mistakes that keep landing them in lock-up. "What people need to do is stand in front of a mirror and ask: 'How much of the problem is mine and how much is it somebody else?' " I first wrote about Bauer-Scandin five years ago. It was centered on his life as a foster parent. As he told the inmates, two of his former foster kids are cops, one in St. Paul. Two are soldiers deployed to Iraq. One's a millionaire. One's an author. Most are raising families or staying out of trouble in spite of hardships. But "15 are dead," said Bauer-Scandin, author of "Faces on the Clock," an engrossing memoir about his life. The dead include suicide victims, including an 11-year-old, others from AIDS and "my last one, they found in three or four pieces, as I understand." Bauer-Scandin's worth writing about again for what he continues to do at great pain and sacrifice without pay or fanfare. He didn't sugarcoat or pull punches with his audience. "What I'm afraid is still happening is that the system is trying to figure out how to get tighter," he told them. "The sentences are getting tougher." And it's not the police, the sheriffs, the courts or even the folks in state and county-run corrections that are responsible for the race to incarcerate. "It's the legislature," Bauer-Scandin said. "And legislatures have been known to do very stupid things." He also faults the media and a gullible public that forms opinions and dehumanizes people strictly on what they watch on TV and not on real-life experiences or knowledge. "What do they see?" he said. "They see the Charlie Mansons. They see the unusual. They see the extreme. Most of you aren't that way. But that's what makes the news." Yet he doesn't divert from his main message: It's up to the inmate to take a positive step and choose the right way. "Get yourself back into a position where you can influence those people, to be able to go to a school board or a city council or legislative meeting and have your voice heard. "You can't fight the system from in here," he concluded. "You have to be out there." The inmates applauded and, one by one, stood in line to shake his hand on his way out the jail complex. His progressively debilitating disorder is taking more of a toll these days. But he steered the scooter inside the van and deftly wiggled his frail body into the driver's seat. He has no complaints, he told me. He will continue to go out and speak as long as God and his wife allow him. "I hope something stuck," he tells me before he drives off. I hope so too, Larry.

In the middle years of the Great Depression, Erskine Caldwell and photographer Margaret Bourke-White spent eighteen months traveling across the back roads of the Deep South--from South Carolina to Arkansas--to document the living conditions of the sharecropper. Their collaboration resulted in You Have Seen Their Faces, a graphic portrayal of America's desperately poor rural underclass. First published in 1937, it is a classic comparable to Jacob Riis's How the Other Half Lives, and James Agee and Walker Evans's Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, which it preceded by more than three years. Caldwell lets the poor speak for themselves. Supported by his commentary, they tell how the tenant system exploited whites and blacks alike and fostered animosity between them. Bourke-White, who sometimes waited hours for the right moment, captures her subjects in the shacks where they lived, the depleted fields where they plowed, and the churches where they worshipped.

Electric Literature 25 Best Novels of 2014 Largehearted Boy Favorite Novels of 2014 "An extraordinary new literary talent."--The Daily Telegraph "In part a portrait of the artist as a young woman, this deceptively modest-seeming, astonishingly inventive novel creates an extraordinary intimacy, a sensibility so alive it quietly takes over all your senses, quivering through your nerve endings, opening your eyes and heart. Youth, from unruly student years to early motherhood and a loving marriage--and then, in the book's second half, wilder and something else altogether, the fearless, half-mad imagination of youth, I might as well call it—has rarely been so freshly, charmingly, and unforgettably portrayed. Valeria Luiselli is a masterful, entirely original writer."--Francisco Goldman In Mexico City, a young mother is writing a novel of her days as a translator living in New York. In Harlem, a translator is desperate to publish the works of Gilberto Owen, an obscure Mexican poet. And in Philadelphia, Gilberto Owen recalls his friendship with Lorca, and the young woman he saw in the windows of passing trains. Valeria Luiselli's debut signals the arrival of a major international writer and an unexpected and necessary voice in contemporary fiction. "Luiselli's haunting debut novel, about a young mother living in Mexico City who writes a novel looking back on her time spent working as a translator of obscure works at a small independent press in Harlem, erodes the concrete borders of everyday life with a beautiful, melancholy contemplation of disappearance. . . . Luiselli plays with the idea of time and identity with grace and intuition." —Publishers Weekly