Dr. Peter Kraus is a forty-something behavioral scientist who is known for his quirky innovative ideas, charming bookish manner and love for music, especially the sound of the trombone. Sadly, though courteous and engaging, as well as being a good and considerate lover, he has never been successful with women. While women adore him, his dates usually end in disaster. Nonetheless, Dr. Kraus makes it no secret that he loves the company of women-in carefully measured doses. Following a particularly bad date with his on-and-off girlfriend, Bev, Peter consults his psychoanalyst, Dr. Maxine Feinschmecker, who is the only one who knows about his James Bond fantasies and unresolved oedipal issues. His sessions with Dr. Feinschmecker reveal that he is a misogynist. The Trombone Man shares the story of one man's zany adventure through an outlandish world where political correctness and populism take on new meanings, but that may end up being more normal than he ever imagined.

The story, based on extensive individual interviews, of the women’s swing bands that toured extensively during World War II and after -- a kind of “League of their Own” for jazz.

A short, sleek novel of encounters set in the witching hours of Tokyo between midnight and dawn, and every bit as gripping as Haruki Murakami’s masterworks The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Kafka on the Shore. At its center are two sisters: Yuri, a fashion model sleeping her way into oblivion; and Mari, a young student soon led from solitary reading at an anonymous Denny’s into lives radically alien to her own: those of a jazz trombonist who claims they’ve met before; a burly female “love hotel” manager and her maidstaff; and a Chinese prostitute savagely brutalized by a businessman. These “night people” are haunted by secrets and needs that draw them together more powerfully than the differing circumstances that might keep them apart, and it soon becomes clear that Yuri’s slumber—mysteriously tied to the businessman plagued by the mark of his crime—will either restore or annihilate her. After Dark moves from mesmerizing drama to metaphysical speculation, interweaving time and space as well as memory and perspective into a seamless exploration of human agency—the interplay between self-expression and understanding, between the power of observation and the scope of compassion and love. Murakami’s trademark humor, psychological insight and grasp of spirit and morality are here distilled with an extraordinary, harmonious mastery.

Long a rallying point for concerned Christians who accept the authority of the Bible, this new third edition includes a new preface detailing the book's history and purpose; new material on wife battering, recovery from divorce, caring for aging parents, sexual harassment, and abuse; gender-related issues and the backlash against feminism; and more. An honored resource on the challenges and opportunities facing Christian women.

In 1941 Thelonious Monk and Kenny Clarke copyrighted “Epistrophy,” one of the best-known compositions of the bebop era. The song’s title refers to a literary device—the repetition of a word or phrase at the end of successive clauses—that is echoed in the construction of the melody. Written two decades later, Amiri Baraka’s poem “Epistrophe” alludes slyly to Monk’s tune. Whether it is composers finding formal inspiration in verse or a poet invoking the sound of music, hearing across media is the source of innovation in black art. Epistrophies explores this fertile interface through case studies in jazz literature—both writings informed by music and the surprisingly large body of writing by jazz musicians themselves. From James Weldon Johnson’s vernacular transcriptions to Sun Ra’s liner note poems, from Henry Threadgill’s arresting song titles to Nathaniel Mackey’s “Song of the Andoumboulou,” there is an unending back-and-forth between music that hovers at the edge of language and writing that strives for the propulsive energy and melodic contours of music. At times this results in art that gravitates into multiple media. In Duke Ellington’s “social significance” suites, or in the striking parallels between Louis Armstrong’s inventiveness as a singer and trumpeter on the one hand and his idiosyncratic creativity as a letter writer and collagist on the other, one encounters an aesthetic that takes up both literature and music as components of a unique—and uniquely African American—sphere of art-making and performance.