“Do you remember Savannah?” How could she forget? Two decades ago, Trinity Calhoun's best friend—18-year-old Savannah Stuart—went missing. Just weeks later, Savannah’s body was found brutally slain outside the mountain town. With no suspects or leads, the local authorities dismissed the murder as a tragic one-off, likely perpetrated by a tourist. But Trinity wasn’t convinced. Determined to do better for other victims, she left town and settled in Vancouver, rising through the ranks to become a detective. She’s never looked back. But now, an unexpected phone call from her former lover has her barreling down the highway to face the past. Another young woman has disappeared under eerily similar circumstances. Allegedly. But the local police are disinterested. Trinity’s ex has a tenuous—at best—hold on his mental and physical health. And Savannah’s secretive and handsome brother is in town, asking an awful lot of questions. Trinity’s focus is clouded. Maybe her judgment, too. As she wades through her past, she needs to answer a potentially life-threatening question: is there a dangerous, repeat criminal on the loose, or is she just desperate for closure?

George Webber has written a successful novel about his family and hometown. When he returns to that town, he is shaken by the force of outrage and hatred that greets him. Family and lifelong friends feel naked and exposed by what they have seen in his books, and their fury drives him from his home. Outcast, George Webber begins a search for his own identity. It takes him to New York and a hectic social whirl; to Paris with an uninhibited group of expatriates; to Berlin, lying cold and sinister under Hitler's shadow.

Afrocentrism has been a controversial but popular movement in schools and universities across America, as well as in black communities. But in We Can't Go Home Again, historian Clarence E. Walker puts Afrocentrism to the acid test, in a thoughtful, passionate, and often blisteringly funny analysis that melts away the pretensions of this "therapeutic mythology." As expounded by Molefi Kete Asante, Yosef Ben-Jochannan, and others, Afrocentrism encourages black Americans to discard their recent history, with its inescapable white presence, and to embrace instead an empowering vision of their African (specifically Egyptian) ancestors as the source of western civilization. Walker marshals a phalanx of serious scholarship to rout these ideas. He shows, for instance, that ancient Egyptian society was not black but a melange of ethnic groups, and questions whether, in any case, the pharaonic regime offers a model for blacks today, asking "if everybody was a King, who built the pyramids?" But for Walker, Afrocentrism is more than simply bad history--it substitutes a feel-good myth of the past for an attempt to grapple with the problems that still confront blacks in a racist society. The modern American black identity is the product of centuries of real history, as Africans and their descendants created new, hybrid cultures--mixing many African ethnic influences with native and European elements. Afrocentrism replaces this complex history with a dubious claim to distant glory. "Afrocentrism offers not an empowering understanding of black Americans' past," Walker concludes, "but a pastiche of 'alien traditions' held together by simplistic fantasies." More to the point, this specious history denies to black Americans the dignity, and power, that springs from an honest understanding of their real history.

Julia Martin is a thriving physical therapist and gym owner with a steady relationship and even a dog. Her life is uncomplicated, simple, and fun, even if she sometimes feels like she’s missed out by never leaving the Midwest town she grew up in. That is until a heartbreak from her past comes crashing back into her world, and everything starts to spin into motion and out of control. Raegan Holcolm thought all they wanted was a proud military career, and that’s what they had. But a sudden injury sends them back to their hometown with a wealth of pain, both physical and emotional, insecurities, and the reality that the career they’d chosen above all else has rejected them. The first time they fell in love, Rae left Jules behind. For love to have a second chance, they’ll need to realize all along that home might have been a person just as much as a place.

In Thomas Wolfe's monumental works 'Look Homeward, Angel,' 'Of Time and the River,' and 'You Can't Go Home Again,' the reader is taken on a journey through the American South during the early 20th century. Wolfe's poetic and atmospheric prose captures the essence of the time period with vivid descriptions and emotional depth. His stream-of-consciousness style allows for a deep dive into the minds of his complex characters, making the reader feel intimately connected to their struggles and triumphs. Through his exploration of themes such as nostalgia, identity, and the passage of time, Wolfe creates a rich tapestry of American life that resonates with readers to this day. As a prominent figure in American literature, Wolfe's masterful storytelling and lyrical language continue to captivate audiences with their timeless relevance and emotional impact.

You Can Go Home Again opens with a story of growing up black in the hostile and segregated South, where even at nine years old, Dave already realizes a striking difference between how black and white people are treated. Daves parents are law-abiding citizens and God-fearing Christians, but this is still the era of segregation with its rampant racism, and a time when a black boy faces a dismal future. Determined to beat the odds, Dave holds tight to his dreams even while chafing against his loving but strict upbringing. As soon as hes old enough, he joins the Marines and begins to discover the world. Upon his return from Japan, he moves to Philadelphia and begins to discover life and learns the hard way that dreams dont always come true. You Can Go Home Again, Freds second book, is the prequel to his first book, The Delivery Man.