Every antique dealer is a bit of a detective, following clues to find the trophies that pay the rent, but when Lovejoy takes on the job of tracking down a pair of duelling pistols so rare that he's not even sure actually exist, he needs all the instincts of a detective to pick his way through an unsolved crime. Along the way, he becomes convinced that the weapons do exist but that they have fallen into the hands of a vile murderer. Locating the ancient weapons seems like the least of his problems when Lovejoy then finds himself fighting for his life in a duel to the death!

FACE IT. WE CAN GO ANYTIME. BUT IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS! Death becomes you, and it's just another fact of life explored in Cause of Death, a revealing abundance of startling data, false perceptions, bizarre fallacies, and some totally unexpected statistics about how, why, when, and where we all bite the dust, check out, buy the farm, kick the bucket, and all those other euphemisms for perishing after falling out of bed (roughly 1,800 fitful sleepers a year). It also answers questions most people never even consider (but should): Do crocodiles kill more people than alligators? Are we more prone to commit suicide or murder? How many still die from leprosy? Does salmonella have anything to do with salmon? Can the condition of your toenails predict your mortality? What's the connection between kitty litter and brain damage? Has irony ever killed anyone?* Disease, accidents, occupational hazards, poisons, plagues, infections, murder, fauna and fungi, insect bites, war, and even bison. What's the most popular killer of the decade? The rarest? How many deaths per year by age? Gender? Location? Time of day? Stupidity? All this and more in a book you really shouldn't be living without. * Yes! While experimenting with the safe preservation of food in snow, Sir Francis Bacon caught a cold and died.

In this volume, medievalist Carolyn Dinshaw offers a powerful critique of modernist temporal regimes through a revelatory exploration of queer ways of being in time as well as the potential queerness of time itself.

In 1960 George Heard Hamilton published the first complete typographic translation of Duchamp's Green Box in English. This landmark publication translated Duchamp's notes and conceptual ambitions for his masterwork, The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even. And as a book, designed to hinge at its binding, the work fulfilled Duchamp's conceptual proposal for art that would move from two- into three-dimensional space. Hinge Pictures is an artist's book in eight parts--a gorgeous, palimpsestual publication that layers the practices of Sarah Crowner, Julia Dault, Leslie Hewitt, Tomashi Jackson, Erin Shirreff, Ulla von Brandenburg, Adriana Varejão and Claudia Wieser over the pages of Duchamp's imagination. It is also a companion publication to an exhibition in eight parts, a confrontation with the patrimony of European modernism. A literal reading of Duchamp positions the Bride, a nude woman, suspended above a host of ogling bachelors. In his writing, Duchamp narrates both social and physical constraint ("The Bride accepts this stripping...") and formal liberation ("discover true form...develop the principle of the hinge."). The artists of Hinge Pictures use formal constraint--a commitment to abstraction--in a demonstration of social liberation. With a Swiss binding that unveils the spine of the book and multiple vellum overlays that create layered interlocutions, the book's physical qualities mirror its conceptual occupations.

Dr. O'Connell's collection of stories and essays, written during thirty years of caring for homeless persons in Boston, gently illuminates the humanity and raw courage of those who struggle to survive and find meaning and hope while living on the streets.

Antiques and women are really the only things that I'm interested in. Getting them in the right order can be a problem, because even a fake antique can be absolutely fascination - especially if it drives someone to commit murder. Antiques and women are what led me to Venice on the trail of the killer, and there my modest talents saw me blagging my way into a job as a tour guide as well as lending a hand as a sculptor. My credentials as a tour guide were as bogus as the forgery I was chiselling and it becan to feel like everywhere I turned, nothing was as it seemed. Antiques and women almost got me killed when the bullets started flying . . .