#David C. Mitchell

[jewishbookworld]

The Songs of Ascents by David C. Mitchell

The Songs of Ascents by David C. Mitchell

Psalms 120 to 134 in the Worship of Jerusalem’s Temples Codes hidden for 3,000 years unveil the origin of the fifteen Songs of Ascents.Mysterious marks in medieval manuscripts disclose the lost temple song.Rabbinic traditions reveal the place of the ark of the covenant.And the secret message of the Book of Psalms is laid bare.

[likeafantasy]

DEXTER REWATCH — 4.09 HUNGRY MAN Not all happy families are alike. They are happy, aren't they? Are they normal kids? How can you tell a loving wife from frightened one? A friendly neighbor, coworker, sister, son. Are any of them what they seem? Or are they little bombs waiting to explode?

[nofatclips]

Blank on Blank: Joni Mitchell on Illusions

[fantastickkay]

From 16, November 1999.

[whatamigonnawatchtoday]

It's Always Fair Weather

1955. Satirical Musical

By Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen

Starring: Gene Kelly, Dan Dailey, Cyd Charisse, Dolores Gray, Michael Kidd, David Burns, Jay C. Flippen, Steve Mitchell, Hal March, Paul Maxey, Peter Leeds, Alex Gerry, Madge Blake, Wilson Wood...

Country: United States

Language: English

[perry-tannenbaum]

Review: Opera, Chamber, and Orchestral Music @ Spoleto Festival USA

Review: Opera, Chamber, and Orchestral Music @ Spoleto Festival USA

Review: Opera, Chamber, and Orchestral Music @ Spoleto Festival USA By Perry Tannenbaum Recognition of the #BlackLivesMatter Movement and the We See You White American Theatre manifesto (issued by a coalition of BIPOC artists in 2020) were certainly on Nigel Redden’s mind when he decided that the 2021 Spoleto Festival USA would be his last as general director. White and long-tenured at the…

[jesslovesboats]

BECAUSE YOU DEMANDED IT, I'm back with more Sad Boat Books for Sad Boat People! But first, some words.

I never dreamed that a silly little graphic I made for some friends would generate this much response on twitter and here, but I'm overjoyed that it resonated with so many of you! I read every single comment and tag, and by far my favorites are all of the people who say some variation of "I thought I was the only one who loved these books." We are NOT alone, there are literally thousands of people who reblogged or retweeted this list-- people of all ages and backgrounds and gender identities. Sad Boat isn't just for old white men! I was also delighted to hear from other librarians who are using this in displays and for reader's advisory. PLEASE go forth and do so with my blessing, nothing would make me happier! I was recently laid off from my librarian job as part of a restructuring under new management (don't worry about me, it sucks right now but I'm gonna be fine), so I would love to think that I'm still contributing to the library ecosystem while I'm out of commission. I would also love to keep making these lists (including one that deals with Sad Boat fiction and one with recommendations for other types of media), and I've never had more time to do it, so if you have suggestions, please drop them in my inbox!

Anyway, enough of that-- here are more books! I've either read all of these, or the recommendation came from someone I trust, so read with confidence!

First Hand Accounts

The Quiet Land: The Antarctic Diaries of Frank Debenham edited by June Debenham Back

The Voyage of the Discovery by Robert Falcon Scott

Farthest North by Fridtjof Nansen

Endurance by F.A. Worsley

Boats boats boats!

Franklin's Lost Ship: The Historic Discovery of HMS Erebus by Alanna Mitchell and John Geiger

The Voyages of the Discovery: The Illustrated History of Scott's Ship by Ann Savours

HMS Terror: The Design, Fitting, and Voyages of a Polar Discovery Ship by Matthew Betts

The SS Terra Nova (1884-1943): Whaler, Sealer, and Polar Exploration Ship by Michael C. Tarver

You'll learn about the Ross Sea Party and you'll like it

Shackleton's Heroes by Wilson McOrist

Shackleton’s Forgotten Men: The Untold Tragedy of the Endurance Epic by Lennard Bickel

The Ross Sea Shore Party 1914-1917 by R.W. Richards

The Lost Men by Kelly Tyler-Lewis*

Polar Castaways by Richard McElrea and David Harrowfield*

*These were on my other list, but this is my graphic and I'll do what I want

Sad Airships and Planes

From Pole to Pole: Roald Amundsen's Journey in Flight by Garth James Cameron

N-4 Down: The Hunt for the Arctic Airship Italia by Mark Piesing

Antarctica's Lost Aviator by Jeff Maynard

Disaster at the Pole: The Tragedy of the Airship Italia and the 1928 Nobile Expedition to the North Pole by Wilbur Cross

More Shackleton Content

Shackleton: A Life in Poetry by Jim Mayer

Shackleton's Last Voyage by Frank Wild

The Quest Chronicle: The Story of the Shackleton-Rowett Expedition by Jan Chojecki

Shackleton's Forgotten Expedition: The Voyage of the Nimrod by Beau Riffenburgh

Polar Partners

Snow Widows by Katherine MacInnes

Polar Wives: The Remarkable Women Behind the World's Most Daring Explorers by Kari Herbert

Widows of the Ice by Anne Fletcher

Sad Boat Graphic Novels

Shackleton: Antarctic Odyssey by Nick Bertozzi

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

How To Survive in the North by Luke Healy

*This was also on my other list, but this is my graphic and I'll do what I want

Biographies

Scott of the Antarctic by David Crane

Ice Captain: The Life of J.R. Stenhouse by Stephen Haddelsey

Cherry: A Life of Apsley Cherry-Garrard by Sara Wheeler

Birdie Bowers: Captain Scott's Marvel by Anne Strathie

Roald Amundsen by Tor Bomann-Larsen

Miscellaneous sad boat books that are well worth your time

I May Be Some Time: Ice and the English Imagination by Francis Spufford

Fatal North: Adventure and Survival Aboard USS Polaris, The First US Expedition to the North Pole by Bruce Henderson

Barrow's Boys: A Stirring Story of Daring, Fortitude, and Outright Lunacy by Fergus Fleming

Pilgrims on the Ice by T.H. Baughman

The Coldest Crucible: Arctic Exploration and American Culture by Michael F. Robinson

Ghosts of Cape Sabine by Leonard F. Guttridge

Icebound: Shipwrecked at the Edge of the World by Andrea Pitzer

If you read and enjoy any of these, please let me know!

EDITED TO ADD: OG Sad Boat Books post here!

[albertserra]

my trans/faggot reading list

The Queer Art of Failure by Jack Halbertsam

Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

Going Stealth: Transgender Politics and U.S. Surveillance Practices by Toby Beauchamp

Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity by Julia Serano

gay masculinities by peter nardi

Homosexuality in Cold War America : Resistance and the Crisis of Masculinity by Robert J Corber

Out of the Shadows: Reimagining Gay Men's Lives by Walt Odets

nevada by imogen binnie

gender nihilism by alyson escalante + addendum

Trans-in-Asia, Asia-in-Trans: An Introduction 

Trans Exploits: Trans of Color Cultures and Technologies in Movement by  Jian Neo Chen

The Terrible We: Thinking with Trans Maladjustment by Cameron Awkward-Rich

Nonbinary: Memoirs of Gender and Identity (various)

Acceptable femininity? Gay male misogyny and the policing of queer femininities Sadie E Hale and Tomás Ojeda

Please Miss: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Penis by grace e lavery

delusions of gender by cordelia fine

a failed man by michael v smith (part of persistence: all ways butch and femme)

time is the thing a body moves through by T. Fleischmann

kai cheng thom’s writing

we want it all: an anthology of trans radical poetics

second skins: the body narratives of transsexuality by jay prossner

transgender warriors by leslie feinberg

the faggots and their friends between revolutions by larry mitchell

translating the queer: body politics and transnational conversations by hector dominguez ruvalcaba

captive genders: trans embodiment and the prison industrial complex

we both laughed in pleasure: the selected diaries of lou sullivan

how we get free: black feminism and the combahee river collective

trans girl suicide museum by hannah baer

dagger: on butch women by lily burana

black queer studies: a critical anthology by e patrick johnson and mae g Henderson

queer sex by juno roche

black on both sides: a racial history of trans identities by C. Riley Snorton

transgender liberation by leslie feinberg

female masculinity by jack halberstam

transecology by douglas a vakoch

street transvestite action revolutionaries : survival, revolt, and queer antagonistic struggle (Sylvia Rivera , Marsha P. Johnson)

a body that is ultra body: in conversation with fred moten and elysia crampton

building an abolitionist trans and queer movement with everything we’ve got (morgan bassichis, alexander lee and dean spade, 2011)

feminism and the (trans)gender entrapment of gender nonconforming prisoners (julia oparah, 2012)

normal life: administrative violence, critical trans politics, and the limits of law (dean spade, 2015)

Tseng Kwong Chi: Performing for the Camera by Việt Lê

detransition, baby by torrey peters

paul takes the form of a mortal girl by andrea lawlor

a failed man by michael v. smith (part of persistence: all ways butch and femme)

my new vagina wont make me happy by andrea long chu

sexing the body by Anne Fausto-Sterling

something that may shock and discredit you by danny lavery

the argonauts by maggie nelson

gender outlaws by kate bornstein

special mentions for articles ive read that were already very formative for me

Masquerading As the American Male in the Fifties: Picnic, William Holden and the Spectacle of Masculinity in Hollywood Film by Steven Cohan

The Production and Display of the Closet: Making Minnelli's "Tea and Sympathy” by David Gerstner

huge thanks to @mypocketsnug who sent #20-40

this is not at all intended to be some kind of definitive resource as ive literally read none of these yet save for the two i mention at the bottom and im compiling this for my personal use, im only publishing this bc an anon asked me to! feel free to reblog and also recommend me more but keep this disclaimer in mind

[netherfeildren]

FEAR OF GOD: Chapter VII: For: Before

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Fate and irony make for strange bedfellows. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: canon typical violence; explicit descriptions of injuries; gore; PTSD

A/N: Art is Cupid Making His Bow (detail) by Parmigianino (c. 1533-1535)

Word Count: 5.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII: For: Before

Grief is an amputation, but hope is an incurable hemophilia: you bleed and bleed and bleed.  -David Mitchell, Slade House

You come to in increments, taking stock of your body, each limb, slowly, as consciousness re-enters your mind. The taste of iron sits heavy on your tongue, thick and viscous in your mouth, and your side is on fucking fire. Your breath starts to wheedle in and out of you quickly, each gulp a stoking of the flames, but you can’t control it – can’t seem to hold onto composure as you regain your senses. Your left shoulder is a sharp throbbing mangle of searing agony, and you can immediately tell from the way you’re laying on it that it’s been dislocated from your fall. You try to shift your legs, make sure you haven’t hurt your back, and yes, yes there, they’re moving, thank God. You stretch your left knee, shift your ankles slowly. Not broken, that’s good. 

Your eyes flutter open – you’re laying in a small pool of your own blood, and the woman from the forest is sitting directly across from you; rifle propped up on her bent knee and pointed straight at you. Her abdomen is ripped open, savaged, the gleam of her entrails peeking through her clutching fingers, the edges of torn skin shredded as if hacked at with a serrated knife. The sight makes your stomach turn. 

“Fucking finally,” she spits. Her voice is a guttural whisper. 

You swallow several times, try to find your voice again. “Where’s Noah? Vero?” You tilt your head up, searching for them, only to be met with Vero’s open, empty stare inches away from you. You jerk back, scream caught in your throat, the abruptness of your movement makes your injuries howl in protest. A hoarse, mangled sound, half groan, half scream claws its way out of your throat. 

“Yeah, she’s dead,” the woman deadpans. “You’re the girl from last night, aren’t you? From the woods?” You can’t answer, your voice is gone. The sight of Vero’s empty eyes – what will you tell the others? She clicks her fingers at you. “Hey,” she snaps, “Boy here said you’re a doctor. That true?” The gaping hole in her head – there’s chunks of her brain and skull splattered in the trajectory of the bullet behind her prone body. What will you tell the others? What will you tell the others? You should have never asked them to come out here. This is all your fault. “Noah. Where’s Noah?” You move to sit up fully.

“I asked you a fucking question,” she spits. “Is it true you’re a doctor?” There’s a small trickle of blood coming from her mouth. Her color, gray and ashen, breaths coming in short, gulping pants. 

“You killed my friend…” your voice is hoarse and grating “You killed her.”

“Answer me!” 

“I– yes, yes– I have some training. Where is he?” She jerks her chin behind you.

“I thought you all were with that group from last night – the ones that attacked us. Didn’t know it was you. And look what the boy’s done to me,” she looks down at her savaged abdomen, there’s such resigned disappointment in her voice. As if this is the greatest inconvenience in the world. You shift to turn, but she snaps, “Don’t even think about moving. My daughter – she’s six months old. I need you to take her.” Noah’s lying face down a few feet away from you. From here you can see that there’s a large laceration to his scalp, the flap of skin hanging grotesquely – exposing the slick bone of his skull beneath – bleeding profusely, a bullet wound to his left shoulder and his left leg is bent at a sickening angle. What the fuck did this woman do to him? But you can see the small, subtle rise and fall of his back, and there are no protruding bones from his leg, a good thing. The pool of blood beneath him is significant, but not a call for hopelessness. At least, you think so, from here, from what you can tell with just your eyes. But then her words penetrate the haze of your mind, the small grasp of concentration you’re tenuously hanging on to snaps to attention – the baby, the baby she had with her. 

You turn back to her. “Where is she?”

“I’m –” she gasps, her words pain her – she’s losing time, “I’m not going to last much longer.” She lifts her arm, looks down at the brutal wound marring her belly, and a gush of dark red streams from her. “Seems to be more than just a little scratch, huh?” She lets out a small hysterical huff of laughter.

“Where is she?” you say again, more forcefully. 

“There’s an abandoned cabin – about fifty yards in that direction,” she jerks her chin, “I hid her there.” The rifle is starting to slip off her knee.

“Alone? You left her alone?”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I? Her father was killed. Those fucking animals last night, they found us – killed him. Couldn’t wait around like a sitting duck, couldn’t hunt with h– her on me. Doesn’t matter–” Her words are starting to slur. “But if you’re a doctor y’can take her. No one she’d be– be better off with. Please, please, you have to take her.”

“You don’t even know me. What I do means nothing–”

“I saw your face last night. I recognized you…”

“Recognized me? What do you mean you recognized me?” A terrible sense of premonition begins to churn deep in your gut, and the words out of your mouth are hysterical because she’s right, and you know exactly what she means. Somehow, somehow, it was like you’d known her, even though you’d never laid eyes on this woman or her child before in your life. But there was something, some sort of preternatural call you’d heard from her. As insane as it sounded, you’d recognized her also. 

“Don’t know… just– just did…” her head lolls over the hill of her shoulder, and you watch her glazed eyes stare off into the distance. She mumbles something else you can’t make out. 

Your mind feels broken, your body just as mangled. You have enough foresight left to register that if you don’t stop the bleeding in your side soon, reset your shoulder – restore the blood flow you can tell is disrupted by the tingling numbness that’s starting in your fingertips – that things are going to get very bad and very complicated for you, very soon.

“Her name is Kate,” she says with the last of her strength. That snaps you back into focus.

Kate.

“Yes– yes, I’ll take her.” Because there is nothing else to say. Because there is nothing else to do – no other choice. You’d known, since last night, since you’d heard that high pitched cry of terror, that this was what you were moving towards. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to leave this morning, despite everything else. Perhaps that was why there was no doubt, no thought for the concern you’d leave behind because you knew, somehow, in some preternatural way, that this was what was waiting for you. She seems to almost deflate at your agreement. All the urgency and fight leaving her eyes like you’d just pulled the string of a lamp. “That– that’s good,” her eyes flutter shut, finally resting. “That’s good,” she whispers.

 You begin to shift, get ready to move, pushing Vero’s dead body from your mind, you can’t dwell on that right now – shoulder first, you think. “Knew – knew last night,” her words are stuttered, almost incoherent. You sit more firmly on your bottom and bend your knees to find purchase with your feet spread apart on the hard ground – slowly you begin to slide your jacket from your back. “S– Some– something in your ey– eyes.” 

You keep your sight on her as you fold the sleeve of your jacket into your mouth to bite down on. She’s going to die soon – minutes, seconds, is all she has left. The pool of her blood surrounds her completely now, a macabre barricade for the place of her death. You lay back, flat on the ground, shoulders level, feet planted, knees bent, and slowly start to pull your left arm up with your right one – it really, really fucking hurts, and your stomach heaves, bile stinging in your throat, vision wavering, tears burning. You swallow a cry, bear down harder on the jacket, press your feet hard into the ground, as you straighten the arm with your other hand. Slowly, slowly, you can feel the joint making the painful shift. You can’t pass out, you can’t pass out, please, please, you can’t. You hear Joel’s soothing voice in your mind, my brave girl, the feel of his palm enveloping your cheek. You have to be brave now. Noah needs you, there’s a baby waiting for you. Kate. You focus your mind on the thought of her, what she might look like, trying to dissociate from the feel of the rotating ball of your bone shifting back into place – muscles screaming with fire, your flesh shooting bolts of pain down the lines of your back and up into your neck and head. Your movements are gentle but firm, and you feel the joint settle in place. You open your clenched eyes, she’s staring in your direction, eyes starting to take on the far away look of death, like a small light being snuffed out. 

“Good job,” she whispers it like she’d laugh a little if she still had it in her. “I really loved her…” A single tear makes a slow track down the side of her face. You watch her hand laying on the ground twitch, “My name’s An– Anna.” And then she’s dead. That feeling of premonition comes to a screeching head, makes your heart drop into your stomach. 

Fucking irony. If you had it in you right now, you’d cry for them all. Anna. 

-

You find that Noah has another bullet wound low to the right side of his abdomen, besides the one through his shoulder. Both seem to be bleeding steadily, but thankfully, slowly. The one in his belly, low and lateral enough for you to guess, based on your approximated path of trajectory, is not life threateningly concerning, at this moment, if you can get them closed soon. His head is bleeding much more profusely, and poses the greater concern. You quickly realize that the leg is pulseless and will need to be reduced as soon as possible. You need to get out of the open before you do anything, though. You’re too vulnerable here. 

You manage to coax one of the horses down to the ground for you to pull him onto its back. Doing it one handed is difficult, but you have to avoid using your hurt arm as much as possible. If you make it worse you run the risk of losing function in the limb forever. The pain and exertion is making you delusional. You keep hearing Joel’s voice through the trees. Beth’s dying screams. Fucking concerning that you’re already hallucinating. Vero’s body will have to be left, there’s no other option. You need to get to the baby and tend to Noah as soon as possible. A constant litany of prayer is running through your exhausted mind, that she’s still in the cabin, that you’re even able to find the goddamn cabin, that she’s okay, that no one’s found her, that no one else finds you, that you can save Noah, that you don’t pass out. You wish Joel was here so badly. 

But he’s not. The only one here right now to help Noah and that baby is you.

You start to move. 

-

You find her in the cabin, exactly where her mother said she’d be. And as you take her into your exhausted embrace, as you take in her little face, the big blue eyes, dark lashes, wet and clumped together, the little cherub mouth, it’s like everything around you is screaming: the wind, the trees, your heart. 

Your choice to leave, your choice to go after this baby, your choice to walk away from him, even when you would rather die than do such a thing, to risk the tragedy of him not following – it feels worth it in this second. You’d thought once that nothing would ever be able to take you away from him, but as you look down at Kate’s little face, you realize, she is worth it. Coming out into this hell alone, if only to find her, this is worth the possible loss of everything else. This is what I was meant to do, you realize. 

Anna had left a pack of supplies with her, fairly well stocked. Shockingly, with several canisters of formula, God knows where she’d found those. You set water to boil while you prep your supplies. 

Stitching the slash of the bullet wound to your side proves more difficult one handed, than you’d imagined, but you manage it – thanking every higher power you’ve ever heard of for the fact that it’s only a flesh wound. The blood loss you’ve experienced will pose a problem soon, you need to work fast before it catches up to you and the adrenaline wears off. You inspect your butchered stitch job once you’re done, not your best work, but at least it’s closed and doused in the alcohol you’d packed in your kit – albeit minimally. Noah needs it more. 

You reduce his leg first, which restores pulses to his foot – good sign. The muscles are malleable, the color of his skin normal, another good sign. You’ll have to watch for stiffness, though. You say a silent prayer of thanks that the fracture hadn’t pierced the skin. That would’ve been something you’d worry you’d not be able to save him from. Next are the two bullet holes. Both are through and through, and the trajectory of both are optimistically positioned. You douse both in alcohol and stitch them up. Then you shoot the both of you up with penicillin from your pack. Over-preparedness is truly the gift that keeps on giving. You give your past self a metaphorical pat on the back. The laceration to his scalp is closed quickly, as well. No obvious fracture to the bone underneath. 

He mumbles a few slurred words, but other than that, he remains unconscious. Kate is sleeping peacefully after her bottle, and you know you need to rest too. Although, it would be incredibly shortsighted to fall asleep right now, your body isn’t giving you much choice. Your aches and pains and the blood loss are all catching up to you, and you’re fading incredibly fast. You fashion yourself a makeshift sling, and then pull the lone table in the room in front of the door, barricading yourselves in. If anyone tries to break in, you hope you’ll hear the jostling of the piece of furniture, and then you drag Noah’s body to the farthest corner of the room and place Kate’s little bundle between the two of you. You lay down between the two of them and the door. You’ll just rest your eyes for a while, rest your body, you won’t fall asleep. You only need to lay still for a few moments, you’ll feel better after that. 

You told Maria you’d be back tonight, promised not to be gone after dark. When she sees the three of you haven’t returned she’ll send someone out. As soon as Joel realized you’d gone, he’d probably come out to search. You hope. His words from last night ring in your ears, but you can’t think of that now. Despite what he’d said, despite wanting you to go, he can’t have wanted this for you. You hope last night’s damage isn’t irreparable. That he hasn’t decided to be completely done with you. And that thought jump starts your anger. If that’s what he’s decided, well then fuck him. You feel the small warm press of Kate’s little body up against your back, and despite the position you now find yourself in, you can’t regret your decision to come out here, to come find her. You have bigger things to consider now. You press your hand to your belly, to the fear you’ve carried with you these past few weeks. Much, much bigger things to worry about now.

-

You dream of him. Over and over. His face swimming through the dark lake of your unconscious mind. There’s a house somewhere, shrouded by trees. You know somehow that there’s water near, and you think that this must be his home. You know he’s somewhere near, but as you walk through the lonely house, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He stands just outside the scope of your dream vision. You want to ask why he’s here, if this is his house, if you live here with him too. But he won’t answer your questions. His omniscient voice keeps telling you to not forget, over and over, he repeats it. Don’t forget, Birdie, don’t forget, don’t forget. And you want to scream that you don’t know what he’s talking about, that you don’t know what it is you’re not supposed to forget, but suddenly your voice won’t work anymore. All you can do is continue to follow the possibility of him, around another and another corner of the house. 

You come to a room suddenly, with an old couple within. They sit alone, side by side, looking out a window that faces upon a wide, green field. You wonder if perhaps they’re his parents, but something tells you that’s wrong. His parents? No – they’re someone else. Someone you know but can’t place in your mind just yet. You’ll think on it, you’re sure it’ll come to you eventually. They sit quietly, holding hands. You can ask them no questions either, so you sit on the floor, knees pressed to your chest, slightly behind them, watching them look out the window. Their silence is so comforting, as if they’ve been sitting here their entire lives, as if they will always be sitting here. 

-

You pass out for longer than you’d intended. Startling awake out of a dead sleep, scrambling on the cold ground at the sound of Kate’s sharp, piercing cries. You can feel her little wiggling form at your side, and you wrap an arm around her to pull her up onto your chest, her squirming settling as your warmth seeps into her. The inside of the cabin is freezing, and your mind is so hazy, your entire body screaming in pain. The sun coming through the murky window is bright with the light of afternoon. Fuck, you’d slept much, much longer than you’d intended, it’s probably the next day now. You turn your head towards Noah, passed out, but still breathing. 

“Noah,” you croak, and his head shifts a tiny bit at your voice, eyelids fluttering. You need to move, need to get up and feed the baby. Try and get the three of you home. You need to find the strength to do so.

You manage to force your body into moving, slow and painful. You give her another bottle and examine Noah one last time before leaving. His wounds are holding up well, pulses still present in his leg. He’s strong, you know he’ll survive. You force yourself to eat something small from your pack and load the horses. The exertion of doing everything with half of your dexterity compromised is excruciating, but you manage it. 

The real issue now’ll be finding your way back. Plagued by a lifelong poor sense of direction, you’re hopelessly turned around after last night’s struggle, but you think that if you keep east you’ll find your way eventually. If someone else doesn’t find you first. 

-

Dawn creeps over the horizon, the sky a meld of pinks and blues, orange streaked, as if smeared by the fingers of a child. Your rational mind seems to have abandoned you miles back. Your blood a bread crumb trail leading back to the site of death, of catastrophe, you’d left behind. Vero, Vero, I’m so sorry. Your haphazard stitches popped a ways back with the exertion of getting Noah’s unconscious form draped onto the back of his horse again and yourself on to yours. Your body sways with the cadence of the horse's pace. You’ve tied your left hand loosely to the pommel, in case you lose consciousness and fall off again. But despite all this, the baby is tucked into the front of your jacket up against your breast, sleeping and warm, and Noah is still breathing. You’re still breathing. That’s all you can care about, all you can focus on now. You pray no one you don’t want finding you comes upon the three of you. You’re certain there’s nothing left within you to fight anyone if you need to. You keep hoping you’ll miraculously come upon Joel. That he’ll find you somehow. That whatever connects the two of you, whatever has always prevented the two of you from staying away, leads him to you now. 

For the first time in years you’re able to recall the exact cadence of your mothers voice. Keep going, sweet girl. Just a little longer, you can do it. She was always gentle and understanding of your sensitive nature. Always understood that you were the child who liked to color inside the lines, follow the rules. That your heart was soft and easily hurt, but that there was strength and steel within you, as well. It only needed a little coaxing to be lured out. Sometimes Beth and your father, for all he liked to exploit your obedience, made it seem like this was a weakness, but not your mother. Never her. She always reassured you that it was your greatest strength, your greatest asset. That a soft heart never meant weakness, if anything a wealth of patience, of tenacity, of understanding and care for the world around you could only ever bring you good things. She always encouraged you to push that heart to greater lengths, greater realms of understanding, but to never let anyone take advantage of it. You hoped you’d done as she wanted, so far. That she’d be proud. 

The mountains in the distance look so terrifying. They whisper at you that you’ll never make your way back. That the three of you are going to die out here. That you’re not strong enough to find your way home. That you’ll never see him again.

Your mind flits from place to place, like a butterfly nursing on the nectar of a sea of flowers. You think of your mother, the feel of her soft hair. The years of study – you’d tried for so long to be perfect, you’re sure you never achieved it. Connie’s familiar scent of peppermint and mothballs and paper. I would not like to see your choices taken from you once again. Beth, your last night together. Your shared childhood room, the drawings of stars you’d glued to the ceiling. The two of you would lie on the floor of that room with the soft pink walls and look up at your pictures, imagine constellations connected between the lines of your made-up heavens. That last night she was alive, lying together under the open sky, you’d connected the real stars in the hanging darkness, mapped the constellations out. Planned for a future together you’d never have. 

Why do non-reasons sometimes feel so much more urgent than actual reasons? Like the things you really want, the things that are truly important to you, get pushed to the back burner in favor of things that never really mattered in the first place. Joel. The two of you should have just figured it out. Been more open, more honest, less afraid. The feel of his hands on your skin – you wish you had them now. You can’t help but wonder if you’d done anything different, even a single thing, if the outcome would have changed. If you could have eased his fears, if you could have helped him be a little braver. If you had been braver, if you’d had the courage to just ask for what you wanted out loud, if he’d have readily given it to you then. You’re terrified you’ll never see him again, never make it back, never hear his voice again, never get the chance to tell him all the things you need to. 

-

You think you get lost several times. Too delirious to properly navigate your way back home with any real sense of direction, the sun sets and rises more times than you have a mind to pay attention to, it seems like. You feel like the three of you ride aimlessly for days, years. You get to a point where you can’t even soothe Kate’s desperate, hungry cries, and eventually the only thing keeping you balanced on the horse is your sheer force of will, the thought that if you fall, you’ll crush her. 

Eventually, you assume it’s her cries that draws them near, that helps them find you. Because suddenly, out of the dead quiet of night, you hear shouts of what you think you remember your name to be. It’s a little lost to you now. Who you are. You don’t know if Noah’s still alive – haven’t had the mind or strength to even turn your head back to check if his chest still moves. The only thing that exists anymore is the sway of the horse beneath you, Kate’s wailing. 

And then your name, being shouted out of the yawning darkness, and you think you hear him. The deep cadence of his voice, so familiar to you. You think you could recognize it even if you weren’t yourself anymore – through anything, time, space, death. The sound of his voice is like the sound of your own beating heart – it lives inside of you now. 

You hear a pounding, pounding, pounding – the sounds of war, and you flinch away, curl your screaming arm around the baby. Even if you’re dead, you still have to protect her. And then there are lights and movement surrounding you, and it’s too much for your broken and exhausted mind, and you’re falling, melting off the side of the earth. 

Gravity overtakes your body, takes you away with it, and you brace yourself for the agony of your injuries screaming against the hard earth, but then he’s there. You recognize the strength of him immediately – his scent, the pressure of his touch, before you hear his voice pressed against your ear. The precious bundle clutched protectively in your arms screams at being jostled, stolen, starved, frozen, traumatized, and the wound in your side writhes with fire. You could howl into the frigid night air if your voice still worked. You grit your teeth together, jaw clenched so tight it feels on the verge of fracture. 

You press the baby tighter to your breast as you feel Joel’s arms lower you slowly to the ground. Your head is a two ton weight, unbearable to sustain. You’re bleeding heavily. You can feel the hot, slick warmth of your blood pool and mingle with the cold, wet grime of your clothes and the dirt beneath you as he settles you between his legs. You’re fading fast, and you have the sudden, jarring thought that if you die, this little girl will be alone. You promised her mother you’d take care of her, and now you’re bleeding, and your body won’t fucking listen to you, won’t get up and do what it needs to – to take care of her, protect her. Joel’s voice is a panicked buzz in your ears, you can hear your name on his lips. His hands gripping and pressing along your body checking for injuries. You cry out in pain as he comes into contact with your wound, and you’re gasping out his name then – a pleading litany you need him to recognize. His horrified gasp comes as his hands find the dark vermillion of your blood. “Come on, baby, please.” Your moans are high and pleading, and his panic answers yours, clashes and twines with it. “I know, baby, I know.” He clutches you tighter against his body, and you want to say that you’re sorry. That you didn’t mean for this to happen. That you never meant to make him go through a hurt like this again.

“I know it hurts – you’re gonna be okay. Listen to me, I gotta get you up. I gotta get you up, alright?” he says over and over again in your ear. You wish you could just be quiet together for a moment. That you never had to move again. Just the two of you here together, just for a little bit. 

“Tommy, help me!” He’s shouting. He’s afraid again. You can hear it. You wish you could open your eyes, look at him one more time. 

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie. 

No other words matter in this moment. The encroaching darkness echoes with his confession, soothes your blistering agony. You will hold on to that, you decide, hold on to him telling you he loves you. That will anchor you.

-

He’s been here before. His panic is full blown, screeching in his ears, his heart a fist punching against his chest, his worst nightmares come to fruition again. Searching for you for days without success. It didn’t make sense, he was always supposed to be able to find you, always, always, no matter what. The most terrible, gripping fear he’s ever experienced in his entire life. And now finally, here you are, he’s found you, but your blood covers his hands. The sight so abhorrent to him it drives all sound, thought, understanding from his mind. Sarah, dead in his arms, again and again and again. The sick fucking vision of the person he loves slipping away from him eternally. Her big brown eyes, vacant, and her purple t-shirt, the one he never forgot, made dark with the gruesome sight of her blood. Never being able to stop it. Your head lolls back at a sick angle, your eyes flutter behind your closed lids. The skin tinged blue with the hue of your veins, stark against your shockingly pale skin. And then he sees the baby – tucked inside the zipper of your jacket, her wails not having registered in his mind until the moment his eyes meet her big, wet blue ones – and he freezes. “Birdie, who is that?” he whispers, tries to grip your jaw, but his fingers are slippery with your blood, leaving horrifying streaks of rust in their wake across your pale, frigid skin. It’s a baby.

-

“Joel… please,” you can’t open your eyes even though you so badly need to look at him, to reassure him, you don’t know if he can even hear you, “I promised her mother…” Your voice feels invisible, broken. You think of Ellie, what she must have been like as a little girl, her face comes into your mind. She’d told you once her mother’s name was Anna. 

Anna, Anna, Anna. 

Fucking irony. You want to laugh or cry or scream, but all you feel is the slide of a tear track back into your hair. The universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor. You think of how hard it is now for you to recall your own mother’s face some days. You hope she and Joel can forgive each other. You think about how fate robbed you of a sister but gave you Ellie, gave you Connie, Joel. You hope the world can gift Kate someone like that one day. 

He’s still there, his voice begging you to come back to him. You don’t want to fail him. He loves you. 

And then nothing. Darkness. 

Chapter VIII

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[devilbrakers]

everlong - foo fighters // mary oliver, "blue iris." devotions // simone de beauvoir // alive - pearl jam // david mitchell, slade house // and i love her - kurt cobain // churchrummagesale // today - the smashing pumpkins // kvetchkween // audrey emmett // the memory of a memory, katie maria // black - pearl jam // claire c. holland, from i am not your final girl: poems; “sally” // kaveh akbar, "my father's accent" from pilgrim bell // wild geese by mary oliver // times like these - foo fighters

musings on my sole survivor, akira sato

[grandvhs]

lista de nomes masculinos que estava no meu bloco de notas e eu só lembrei agora

starting with A ;;

aaron.

adair.

adam.

aiden.

ajax.

alec.

alfie.

allistar.

anderson.

andrew.

andy.

angus.

antonio.

anthony.

archer.

archibald.

archie.

aries.

arlo.

arthur.

ashley.

ashton.

austen.

avery.

axel.

starting with B ;;

bailey.

beau.

beckham.

beckett.

bellamy.

benjamin.

bennett.

bentley.

blade.

blake.

blaine.

blaise.

blue.

bobbie.

bodhi.

brad.

brandon.

braxton.

brayden.

brent.

brett.

brock.

brody.

brooke.

bryson.

starting with C ;;

caleb.

callum.

calvin.

cameron.

carlisle.

carlos.

carson.

carter.

casey.

chad.

chandler.

charlie.

chase.

chaz.

christian.

christopher.

cody.

colby.

cole.

cooper.

colton.

connor.

conrad.

corbin.

corey.

starting with D ;;

dakota.

dallas.

damien.

damon.

dante.

darian.

darron.

darryl.

david.

dawson.

declan.

demetri.

dennison.

denver.

derek.

diego.

diesel.

dimitri.

dixon.

dominic.

donovan.

drake.

drew.

dustin.

dwayne.

starting with E ;;

eason.

eaton.

eddy.

edmund.

edward.

elijah.

elior.

ellias.

elliot.

ellis.

elyas.

ember.

emerson.

emery.

emilio.

emmett.

enzo.

eric.

ernie.

ethan.

ethaniel.

evan.

everett.

everson.

ezar.

starting with F ;;

fabio.

fallon.

farah.

felix.

fernando.

ferris.

felton.

finn.

finnegan.

finnick.

fitz.

fitzgerald.

fletcher.

floyd.

flynn.

foley.

forest.

francisco.

franco.

frankie.

franklin.

fraser.

frasier.

freddie.

fredrik.

starting with G ;;

gabe.

gabriel.

gale.

gallagher.

garcia.

gareth.

garrett.

gary.

gavin.

gene.

george.

gerard.

gilbert.

giovanni.

glenn.

gordon.

grady.

graeme.

grant.

greggory.

gregor.

greyson.

griffin.

gus.

guy.

starting with H ;;

hadley.

hale.

haley.

hamilton.

hamish.

hansel.

harley.

harris.

harrison.

harry.

harvey.

haven.

hayes.

heath.

hector.

hendrix.

henrik.

henry.

holton.

howard.

hudson.

hugh.

hugo.

hunter.

hyde.

starting with I ;;

ian.

ibrahim.

icarius.

idris.

igor.

iman.

immanuel.

imran.

indi.

indiana.

indigo.

indra.

inrique.

irwin.

isaak.

isaiah.

isaias.

ishmael.

isobell.

israel.

ivan.

ivey.

ivor.

ivory.

izzy.

starting with J ;;

jack.

jacob.

jagger.

jai.

james.

jamie.

jason.

jaspar.

jaxon.

jaydon.

jed.

jeremy.

jesse.

jett.

joel.

jameson.

jonathon.

jordan.

jose.

joseph.

joshua.

jude.

julian.

junior.

justin.

starting with K ;;

kade.

kai.

kalen.

kameron.

kane.

kasey.

kayden.

keaton.

keegan.

keenan.

kellan.

kendall.

kendrick.

kevin.

khalil.

kian.

kiefer.

kieran.

kingsley.

kingston.

klaus.

kohen.

konrad.

kristoff.

kyle.

starting with L ;;

lachlan.

lamar.

lambert.

lance.

landon.

langston.

lawrence.

lawson.

leeroy.

lennon.

leo.

leonardo.

levi.

lewis.

liam.

lincoln.

lionel.

logan.

lorenzo.

louis.

luca.

lucas.

lucky.

lucis.

luke.

starting with M ;;

mackenzie.

madden.

maddox.

malaki.

malcolm.

manuel.

marco.

marcus.

marley.

marshall.

martin.

mason.

matteo.

matthew.

max.

micah.

michael.

miguel.

mike.

miles.

miller.

milo.

mitchell.

morgan.

moses

starting with N ;;

nadir.

naiser.

nasir.

nate.

nathan.

nathaniel.

naveen.

naydon.

ned.

nico.

neil.

nelson.

nero.

nicholai.

nicholas.

nila.

niles.

nixon.

noah.

noel.

nolan.

norman.

north.

nylan.

nyle.

starting with O ;;

oakley.

ocean.

octavius.

odell.

olaf.

oliver.

ollie.

omar.

omari.

orion.

orlando.

osborn.

oscar.

o’shea.

osten.

oswald.

otis.

otto.

owen.

oxley.

starting with P ;;

pablo.

page.

palmer.

parker.

parrish.

patrick.

paul.

paulo.

pax.

paxton.

payton.

penn.

percy.

perry.

peter.

phineas.

phoenix.

pierce.

pierre.

prescott.

presley.

preston.

prince.

princeton.

puck.

starting with Q ;;

qadim.

qadir.

quain.

quenby.

quill.

quimby.

quincy.

quinn.

quinten.

starting with R ;;

randy.

raymond.

reese.

reid.

remy.

reuben.

rhett.

rhys.

richard.

richie.

ricky.

riley.

robert.

robin.

roger.

roman.

romeo.

ronan.

ronnie.

ross.

rowen.

ryan.

ryder.

ryker.

rylan.

starting with S ;;

sage.

sailor.

salem.

samson.

samuel.

sascha.

sawyer.

saxon.

scott.

sean.

sebastian.

seth.

shane.

shiloh.

simon.

sinclair.

skyler.

sonny.

spencer.

stanley.

stefan.

steven.

stevie.

storm.

sullivan.

starting with T ;;

tamir.

tanner.

tate/tait.

tatum.

taylor.

teddy.

theo.

thomas.

timothy.

tobias.

toby.

todd.

tommy.

tory.

trace.

travis.

trent.

trevor.

trey.

tristan.

troye.

tucker.

tyler.

tyrone.

tyson.

starting with U ;;

umair.

umar.

urien.

usama.

starting with V ;;

valentine.

valentino.

vance.

vaughn.

victor.

vincent.

vinn.

vinnie.

vladimir.

starting with W ;;

wade.

walden.

wallace.

walter.

warner.

warren.

warrick.

waylan.

wayne.

wendall.

wes.

wesley.

west.

whitley.

wilbert.

william.

willis.

wilmer.

windsor.

winslow.

winston.

wolf.

wren.

wyatt.

wynter.

starting with X ;;

xachary.

xan.

xander.

xavier.

xeno.

ximen.

xylon.

starting with Y ;;

yahto.

yakub.

yasin.

yasi.

york.

ysrael.

yuri.

yusef.

starting with Z ;;

zachary.

zahir.

zander.

zane.

zavier.

zed.

zeke.

zion.

zolten.

[dickfuckk]

A list of season 2 cast and crew members, confirmed and speculated

I will try and keep this updated

Not counting the obvious ones

Please note that this is a list of both cast and crew members, so PAs and such are also included and not just actors

Also if you're interested: on my bts instagram I only follow people who have worked on season 1, and people I suspect worked on season 2. So feel free to go through the list of people I follow if you're into that

A

Aaron Morton (Camera) - he’s listed on the very last picture as the camera-man

Adam Stein(Writer)

Alan F. (English solider)

Alexandria S.

Alison Telford (Casting)

Alistair Gregory - from this tweet so uncertain, but followed me back on my bts instagram account so seems to have some interest in ofmd

Amy Barber (Sound department)

Amy Tunnicliffe

Amanda Grace Leo

Amanda M. (Wedding guest)

Andrea Basile (Costume)

Andres Gomez Zamora (Visual effects)

Andrew DeYoung (Director) - I don’t remember if there was any other reason than the fact that he was in Aotearoa during filming

Andy McLaren (senior art director)

Andy Rydzewksi (Cinematographer)

Angelina Faulkner (Sound department)

B

Blair Nicholson (Camera)

Blair Teesdale (Camera)

Brad Coleman (Visual effects)

Brad McLeod (Special effects)

Brian Badie (Hairstylist)

Bronson Pinchot (“Torturer”)

Bryn Seager - I don’t remember why but I follow him

Bryony Matthew (Food stylist)

C

Caleb Staines (Camera)

Chantel Partamian (Visual effects)

Colin Elms (Art department)

Colin Rogers (Sound department)

Cora Montalban (Makeup and/or hairstylist) - I believe she was tagged in an instagram story once, and she’s followed by a ton of cast and crew members

Corrin Ellingford (Sound department)

Corey Moana (Camera)

Corry Greig (Art department)

Coti Herrera (Prosthetics/Makeup)

D

Damian Del Borrello (Sound department)

Daniel Fernandez (Spanish priest)

Danica Duan (Assistan accountant)

David Boden (production manager)

David G. (Stand in)

David Rowell (Financial controller)

David Van Dyke (Visual effects)

Dennis Bailey (Hairstylist)- Leslie revealed that he’s there.

Dion Anderson (Rescue diver)

Don A. (Swampy Town folk)

Donna Pearman (Assistant accountant)

Donna Marinkovich (set decorator)

Doug McFarlene (Pirate)

Duncan Nairn (Visual effects)

E

Eliza Cossio (Writer)

Erroll Shand (Prince Ricky)

Esther Mitchell (Camera)

F

Fernando Frias (Director)

G

Gareth Van Niekerk (Sound department)

Gary Archer (dental prosthetics)

Gemma Campbell (Visual effects)

Grant Lobban

Greg Sager (Safety manager)

Gregor Harris (Camera)

Gregory J. Pawlik Jr. (AD)

Gypsy Taylor (Costume designer)

H

Haroun Barazanchi (Set designer)

Harry Ashby (AD)

Helene Wong (Voice work)

I-J

Jacob Tomuri (Stunts)

Jaden McLeod

James Crosthwaite (Set decorator)

Jamie Couper (Camera)

Jason Samoa, possibly spotted on location

Jemaine Clement, pretty sure this is only based on his friendship with Rhys and Taika tbh

Jes Tom (Writer)

Jessica Lee Hunt (Makeup artist) - followed by a ton of crew and cast members and I believe she’s been tagged in instagram stories and such

John Mahone (Writer)

Jonathan Bruce (Sound department)

Jono Capel-Baker (Groom)

Jonno Roberts didn’t get the role from his audition, but could still have gotten a different role - hung out with Ruibo

Judah Getz (Sound department)

Julia Huberman (Sound department)

Julia Thompson (Costume)

Justin Benn (Republic of Pirates Town)

K

Karl L. (Action extra)

Kate Fu

Kate Leonard (Casting)

Kathleen Zyka Smith (“Red Flag”)

Kosuke Iijima (Fabricator/Sculptor?) - due to interaction on this post

Kris Gillan (Fabricator/Sculptor)

Kura Forrester - followed by quite a few cast and crew members, but I don’t remember if there was anything else to it

L

Laura Stables (SFX makeup artist)

Leanne Evans (Art department)

Lee Tuson

Leslie Jones (Spanish Jackie) - she’s spoiled this so many times, but gjfhdks

Leyla - followed by a lot of cast and crew members, don’t remember if there was more to it than that

Lindsey Cantrell (Set decorator)

Louis Flavell Birch (Blue coat)

Luke V. (Stand in)

[likeafantasy]

DEXTER REWATCH — 4.01 LIVING THE DREAM There's this cliche where serial killers are always described as quiet, kept to himself, kind of a loner. It's a cliche for a reason.

[eucanthos]

eucanthos

elemental traces no.6, ∈ 42 / Judith

Jacopo Pontormo: Annunciazione, 1527-28. Cappella Capponi Chiesa di Santa Felicita (Firenze)

Guinevere Van Seenus A/W 2003 photoshoot for Myra

Venus de Milo [head]

Gérard Audran: Venus de’ Medici 1683 etching [negative overlay]

Michelangelo's David genitalia, 1501-04

Gianlorenzo Bernini: Medusa, c. 1638-48

Palm trees: Seaside Mount Lavinia, Sri Lanka, 1920

Unknown ballerina's feet

[after exposure aug 12 repeat n cut]

Judith depictions, popular in the Renaissance-Baroque period, around 1600 turned more violent, "and Judith became a threatening character to artist and viewer." – Wills, Lawrence Mitchell "The Judith Novel" 1995. The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World.

https://en.wikipedia.org]/wiki/Judith_beheading_Holofernes#cite_note-wills-3

[startrekucast]

We’re talking about the Star Trek Discovery Season 5 trailer, maman. Also there are some updates for Lower Decks, Strange New Worlds, Section 31 and Legacy plus a whole lot more...

Saying Goodbye to Gary Graham and Kenneth Mitchell

Discovery Season 5 Trailer | https://youtu.be/6Fi7ZePgh8k

Sonequa Martin-Green Teases “Big Thing” And Familiar Faces

Cast For ‘Star Trek: Section 31’ TV Movie Announced As Production Starts

Mike McMahan And Tawny Newsome Tease Unexpected Cameos In ‘Lower Decks’ Season 5

'Lower Decks’ Season 4 Arrives On DVD And Blu-ray In April

Paul Wesley On Kirk Preparation and Evolution

'Star Trek: Legacy' Updates From Michelle Hurd, John de Lancie and Dave Blass

Zoe Saldana Reiterates That Paramount Wants Kelvinverse Cast Back For One Last Film

Cate Blanchett And Rami Malek Might Have Starred In Noah Hawley’s Shelved Star Trek Movie

Terry Matalas Nominated For Writers Guild Award For ‘Star Trek: Picard’

‘Star Trek: Picard’ Wins 4 Saturn Awards, ‘Strange New Worlds’ Wins 1

‘The Archive’ Star Trek Spatial Experience Released For Apple Vision Pro | https://youtu.be/gggNizSkaDM | https://youtu.be/fhgNIaatDHI | https://youtu.be/wYD2pkDukfM

Hosts: David C. Roberson Matthew Carroll

Join Us: Site: http://startrekucast.com Apple: http://bit.ly/StuCast Spotify: http://bit.ly/StarTrekUCast Spreaker: http://bit.ly/StuCastSpreaker

[deadpresidents]

Latest books you have been reading?

Apparently I haven't shared the books I've been recently reading since the beginning of November. Usually someone reminds me to share my reading list every few weeks, so I think someone should be fired for dereliction of duty.

•Life After Power: Seven Presidents and Their Search for Purpose Beyond the White House (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Jared Cohen -- Just released on February 13th, this is the follow-up to Cohen's excellent 2019 book, Accidental Presidents: Eight Men Who Changed America (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO).

•Borgata: Rise of Empire: A History of the American Mafia (BOOK | KINDLE) by Louis Ferrante.

•Soldier of Destiny: Slavery, Secession, and the Redemption of Ulysses S. Grant (BOOK | KINDLE) by John Reeves.

•The Border: A Journey Around Russia Through North Korea, China, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania, Poland, Latvia, Estonia, Finland, Norway, and the Northeast Passage (BOOK | KINDLE) by Erika Fatland -- A couple of months ago, I mentioned how much I enjoyed reading Erika Fatland's Sovietistan, and I was equally pleased with The Border, which has a subtitle nearly as long as the Russian border that she wrote about traveling around.

•Unruly: The Ridiculous History of England's Kings and Queens (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by David Mitchell.

•The Fall of Eagles: The Death of the Great European Dynasties by C.L. Sulzberger.

•George V: Never a Dull Moment (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Jane Ridley.

•Adams and Calhoun: From Shared Vision to Irreconcilable Conflict (BOOK | KINDLE) by William F. Hartford.

•God Save Benedict Arnold: The True Story of America's Most Hated Man (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Jack Kelly.

•Justinian: Emperor, Soldier, Saint (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Peter Sarris.

•Magic: The Life of Earvin "Magic" Johnson (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Roland Lazenby.

•Oracle of Lost Causes: John Newman Edwards and His Never-Ending Civil War (BOOK | KINDLE) by Matthew Christopher Hulbert.

•Mirrors of Greatness: Churchill and the Leaders Who Shaped Him (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by David Reynolds.

•Mansfield and Dirksen: Bipartisan Giants of the Senate (BOOK | KINDLE) by Marc C. Johnson.

•The World That Wasn't: Henry Wallace and the Fate of the American Century (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO) by Benn Steil.

•Wide Awake: The Forgotten Force That Elected Lincoln and Spurred the Civil War (BOOK | KINDLE) by Jon Grinspan -- Available for pre-order now and will be published on May 14th.