The dog’s howls echo the mechanical whine of the sirens blaring from the speakers. The sounds undulate, rising and falling like the jungle-draped topography around us. The airfield we stand on is a swath of ochre in a sea of riotous green—the sky above a cerulean dome hazed in tremulous clouds. Sunlight beats through them, baking the dirt, mixing with the moisture of the jungle and wrapping itself around us in a heavy, sweaty embrace. My arms tighten around my son. Frank presses his snout to James’s foot, a low whine escaping as he looks up at me. Nila joins with Blue circling us as though forming a defensive line. They know we are in danger but don’t know from what. The dogs in the jungle, trained to protect the compound’s perimeter, continue to howl even as the sirens wind down. Blue leads us to the jungle path. Darkness closes in around us, the air stifling and humidity thick. Over the cascading insect orchestra, a resonating hum grows louder. James looks up at the canopy above us. “Vroom?” He asks. “Vroom,” I agree, keeping my focus on the winding path. Roots criss-cross the dirt. Big wet leaves and spidery vines encroach, tugging at my clothing as if to stop me from entering. Sweat slides down my spine under my shirt. Nila jogs ahead, taking the lead, her nose to the ground while Blue stays by my side and Frank behind us—a train of people and dogs. A pack moving through the jungle. A formidable force. A bird squawks loudly, jerking James’s attention. He pulls his arms from around my neck to clap. The drone’s mechanical hum grows louder. Nila stops, turning her head to the sky, nostrils flaring, trying to find its scent. I crane my neck. Through the thick foliage the sky is just a few flashes of blue. Three shadows darken the diamonds of light cascading to the jungle floor, and flashes of white glint above us. No bombs drop. No bullets rain. Yet.

Christians cannot ignore the intersection of religion and violence. In our own Scriptures, war texts that appear to approve of genocidal killings and war rape raise hard questions about biblical ethics and the character of God. Have we missed something in our traditional readings? Identifying a spectrum of views on biblical war texts, Webb and Oeste pursue a middle path using a hermeneutic of incremental, redemptive-movement ethics.

When Micha Boyett's son was born with Down syndrome and later diagnosed with autism, she was drawn into the ancient teachings of the Beatitudes. There she found wisdom she needed in a world that values performance, perfection, and strength. Jesus instead calls his followers to embrace meekness, mercy, and suffering. The Beatitudes became an invitation to discover her worth in God's love rather than in her own accomplishments. In Blessed Are the Rest of Us, Boyett shares her insights with readers--especially those who are burned out, tired of performing, living with grief, or feeling exhausted, powerless, or excluded. She invites them into an understanding of God and themselves centered on belovedness rather than accomplishment. Here is her message: in God's dream for the world, blessing has nothing to do with ease; it's about flourishing, and Jesus promises we find flourishing in our limits and in our longing to see the world made whole. Each chapter centers on the refreshing good news of one beatitude, poetically woven with stories of Boyett's life. Beautifully reassuring and liberating, this book calls readers to rest in God's rich and abundant love.

How spectacular visions of physical suffering in post–World War II Italian neorealist films redefined moviegoing as a form of political action

Brutal Reasoning looks at the ways in which humans were conceptualized, at what being "human" meant, and at how humans could lose their humanity.

Ethan Muller is struggling to establish his reputation as a dealer in the cut-throat world of contemporary art when he is alerted to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: in a decaying New York slum, an elderly tenant has disappeared, leaving behind a staggeringly large trove of original drawings and paintings. Nobody can tell Ethan much about the old man, except that he came and went in solitude for nearly forty years, his genius hidden and unacknowledged. Despite the fact that, strictly speaking, the artwork doesn't belong to him, Ethan takes the challenge and makes a name for the old man - and himself. Soon Ethan has to congratulate himself on his own genius: for storytelling and salesmanship. But suddenly the police are interested in talking to him. It seems that the missing artist had a nasty past, and the drawings hanging in the Muller Gallery have begun to look a lot less like art and a lot more like evidence. Sucked into an investigation four decades cold, Ethan will uncover a secret legacy of shame and death, one that will touch horrifyingly close to home - and leave him fearing for his own life.

After crossing the first day, Hu Xiaoxiao beat the Emperor.On the second day of travelling, Hu Xiaoxiao beat up the Imperial Consort.The third day after crossing ..."The empress has left the palace!"However, before he could walk out of the city gate, Hu Xiaoxiao was carried back by a man.The extraordinarily handsome emperor was so angry that he laughed sinisterly, "You haven't even given birth to your son yet, where do you want to run to?"

Ava Brooks is wrestling with the realization that her love for Frank Mazzini—the first deep and potentially meaningful relationship she’s had since college some 19 years ago—is quickly turning into a trite monologue. Despondent at first, then bordering on desperate, Ava seeks to ratchet up her desirability quotient in Frank’s eyes, turning to any number of sources, including (but not limited to) a prescription for Viagra; self-help books she peruses on her breaks at the bookstore where she works; her hair dresser who happens to be Frank’s sister incognito; hypnosis; Lasik surgery; and last but not least, her best friend, Trudy, whose own personal life seems to be falling apart even as she attempts to help Ava spice up hers. Chapter by chapter and fortune by fortune, Ava begins to realize that love, like luck, comes in many disguises.