The pendulum has shifted in Catherine's life once again. Four years after peeling back the curtain on The Janus Chamber, we find her now ironically working as a political journalist, settled into a mundane routine and dating life because she chose to tell the truth about Inana Luna instead of embracing a life of decadence with The Juliette Society. Meeting a man who reignites her passion for cinema and guilt-free sex makes her realize what she's been missing, but an unwanted scandal douses the flame. Forced to lay low, she finds an opportunity to take back her career with a human interest story in Honduras, but there are people who see Catherine's article as a threat and will do everything they can to stop her from writing. The world she finds is unlike anything she's ever seen. Catherine is The Mismade Girl, and as her life is turned upside down, she must choose to either perish . . . or be remade anew.

The pendulum has shifted in Catherine's life once again. Four years after peeling back the curtain on The Janus Chamber, we find her now ironically working as a political journalist, settled into a mundane routine and dating life because she chose to tell the truth about Inana Luna instead of embracing a life of decadence with The Juliette Society. Meeting a man who reignites her passion for cinema and guilt-free sex makes her realize what she's been missing, but an unwanted scandal douses the flame. Forced to lay low, she finds an opportunity to take back her career with a human interest story in Honduras, but there are people who see Catherine's article as a threat and will do everything they can to stop her from writing. The world she finds is unlike anything she's ever seen. Catherine is The Mismade Girl, and as her life is turned upside down, she must choose to either perish . . . or be remade anew.

A few years have passed since Catherine’s time in the The Juliette Society, but things haven’t been going the way she planned. Her life with her fiancé Jack has become predictable and boring, especially in the bedroom. Now working as a journalist, she struggles to find inspiration in her work or at home—until she starts writing about the death of a publicly beloved model, Inana Luna, whose experiences reflect Catherine’s own blossoming sexuality and independence. What started as a routine story quickly becomes Catherine’s obsession, as she follows the tale of a woman whose tracks take her down a road with too many familiar facets: a fascination with kink, lustful men, and some very sexy intrigue. Like the Roman god Janus, Catherine is simultaneously looking to the past and the future. Can her experiences with The Juliette Society, along with Inana's diary, help her figure out what she really wants in life, love, and sex? Or will the story drag her back down into a tantalizing world from which she might not be able to escape a second time?

A few years have passed since Catherine's time in the The Juliette Society, but things haven't been going the way she planned. Her life with her fiancé Jack has become predictable and boring, especially in the bedroom. Now working as a journalist, she struggles to find inspiration in her work or at home - until she starts writing about the death of a publicly beloved model, Inana Luna, whose experiences reflect Catherine's own blossoming sexuality and independence. What started as a routine story quickly becomes Catherine's obsession as she follows the tale of a woman whose tracks take her down a road with too many familiar facets: a fascination with kink, lustful men, and some very sexy intrigue. Like the Roman god Janus, Catherine is simultaneously looking to the past and the future. Can her experiences with The Juliette Society, along with Inana's diary, help her figure out what she really wants in life, love, and sex? Or will the story drag her back down into a tantalizing world from which she might not be able to escape a second time?

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “A big sweeping novel of friendship and marriage” (The Washington Post) by the celebrated author of The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini Leopold Bloom King has been raised in a family shattered—and shadowed—by tragedy. Lonely and adrift, he searches for something to sustain him and finds it among a tightly knit group of outsiders. Surviving marriages happy and troubled, unrequited loves and unspoken longings, hard-won successes and devastating breakdowns, as well as Charleston, South Carolina’s dark legacy of racism and class divisions, these friends will endure until a final test forces them to face something none of them are prepared for. Spanning two turbulent decades, South of Broad is Pat Conroy at his finest: a masterpiece from a great American writer whose passion for life and language knows no bounds. Praise for South of Broad “Vintage Pat Conroy . . . a big sweeping novel of friendship and marriage.”—The Washington Post “Conroy remains a magician of the page.”—The New York Times Book Review “Richly imagined . . . These characters are gallant in the grand old-fashioned sense, devoted to one another and to home. That siren song of place has never sounded so sweet.”—New Orleans Times-Picayune “A lavish, no-holds-barred performance.”—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution “A lovely, often thrilling story.”—The Dallas Morning News “A pleasure to read . . . a must for Conroy’s fans.”—Associated Press

"Modern Magic" is a treatise in book form, detailing the apparatus, methods and tricks used by the magicians and conjurors. It was the first book in the English language to really explain how to perform magical feats. The treatise contains advice on the appearance, the dress and the staging of a magician. It then goes on to describe many tricks with playing cards, coins, watches, rings, handkerchiefs, dominoes, dice, cups, balls and hats, and concludes with a long chapter of miscellaneous tricks, including magic with strings, gloves, eggs, rice and some utility devices. The penultimate chapter describes large stage illusions, and the final chapter contains advice on routining a magic show, as well as more advice on staging.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. HeathcliffÕs dwelling. ÔWutheringÕ being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones. Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date Ô1500,Õ and the name ÔHareton Earnshaw.Õ I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium. One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here Ôthe houseÕ pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.