Selasa, 24 Januari 2012

[G467.Ebook] PDF Download Fidel & Malcolm X: Memories of a Meeting, by Rosemari Mealy

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Fidel & Malcolm X: Memories of a Meeting, by Rosemari Mealy



Fidel & Malcolm X: Memories of a Meeting, by Rosemari Mealy

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Fidel & Malcolm X: Memories of a Meeting, by Rosemari Mealy

More than five decades have lapsed since September 1960, when African American Muslim leader Malcolm X welcomed Cuban President Fidel Castro to a midnight meeting at Harlem s Black-owned Hotel Theresa. Castro and his delegation had come to New York to attend the UN General Assembly, but the management of the Manhattan hotel they had booked refused to house them. Upon learning of their plight, Malcolm invited the Cuban emissaries to come uptown to Harlem, where he claimed they would be greeted with open arms.

Indeed, Harlemites by the thousands gave Castro a rousing, even magnificent welcome, keeping a round-the-clock vigil in the pouring rain outside his balcony window. To Harlem s masses, unfazed by the red baiting and anti-Cuba hysteria of the day, Castro was that bearded revolutionary who had told White America to go to hell. They crowded the streets to see and cheer the Cuban delegation and its then thirty-four-year-old revolutionary leader.

Sadly, however, little is said, even today, about the far-reaching conversations that took place between Malcolm and Fidel that September evening. Only three newsmen were allowed to join them: two representatives and a photographer from the Negro press. They noted that the two leaders exchanged pleasantries, then spoke candidly, through their interpreters, about self-determination and national liberation. Though language differences proved a formidable barrier, author Rosemari Mealy maintains that the respect that both men expressed towards each other...solidified the ties of friendship between the Cuban revolution and the relentless struggles of the African American people.

In this slim yet significant volume, Mealy, along with contributors Elombe Brath, LeRoi Jones (Amiri Baraka), Sarah E. Wright, and Bill Epton, compile the recollections of a number of persons who played important roles in this historic summit. They add to these their own perspectives as historians, poets, journalists, and political activists on the two leaders and the revolutionary movements they spawned. The combined reflections, coupled with Malcolm s and Fidel s own writings about the encounter and rare photographs of the two men together, yield an authentic accounting of a remarkable meeting of the minds.

  • Sales Rank: #1609411 in Books
  • Published on: 2013-05-17
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 90 pages

About the Author
Rosemari Mealy is Adjunct Assistant Professor at City College of NY (CUNY) Center for Worker Education. Professor Mealy has been honored for her community involvement on numerous occasions and was the recipient of the prestigious Claudia Jones Fellow in the African New World Studies Program at Florida International University (Miami). Mealy has lived and worked in Cuba where she collaborated on several projects in support of US political prisoners with Assata Shakur. She is also an activist in the International Human rights and political prisoner movement.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Nice, an excellent biography
By Amaury Negron
Nice , an excellent biography , so to speak, by sister RosaMaria Mealy I have read before , and continuo reading it , no question , about it that the Cuban Mafia , the republican Sabandijas Like the Crook Melendez , Cruz, Rubio dishonest Politician , will not agree with the Book , Viva Fidel, Viva Obama , Free Don Oscar lopez .

1 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
A fabulous book. With Cuba in the news now ...
By Cheryl LaBash
A fabulous book. With Cuba in the news now, it is must reading to understand the history of U.S.-Cuba relations.

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Senin, 23 Januari 2012

[M906.Ebook] Download PDF Arena, by Holly Jennings

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Arena, by Holly Jennings

A fast-paced and gripping near-future science fiction debut about the gritty world of competitive gaming...

Every week, Kali Ling fights to the death on national TV.
She’s died hundreds of times. And it never gets easier...

The RAGE tournaments—the Virtual Gaming League’s elite competition where the best gamers in the world compete in a no-holds-barred fight to the digital death. Every bloody kill is broadcast to millions. Every player is a modern gladiator—leading a life of ultimate fame, responsible only for entertaining the masses.

And though their weapons and armor are digital, the pain is real.

Chosen to be the first female captain in RAGE tournament history, Kali Ling is at the top of the world—until one of her teammates overdoses. Now, she must confront the truth about the tournament. Because it is much more than a game—and even in the real world, not everything is as it seems.

The VGL hides dark secrets. And the only way to change the rules is to fight from the inside...


From the Hardcover edition.

  • Sales Rank: #395760 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2016-04-05
  • Released on: 2016-04-05
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Review
“A stunning debut, fast-paced, action-packed, with an interesting romance and a compelling yet flawed heroine…Read this book. You haven’t read anything quite like it and you don’t want to miss it.”—Ilona Andrews, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Blistering action right from the first page, but it’s Jennings’ brilliant characters that kept me logged in to Arena. A thrilling debut.”—Jason M. Hough, New York Times bestselling author

“Think Hunger Games meets Ready Player One. Arena is serious nerdcore entertainment. Gamers, get ready to plug in!”—Chloe Neill, New York Times bestselling author

“Depicting the action and excitement of virtual gaming that made Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One such a hit...Readers seeking more fast-paced sf about virtual reality will be pleased.”—Library Journal

“A nuanced and complex novel with a strong, imperfect heroine and a different approach to the ‘rebel in a dystopian society’ trope.”—RT Book Reviews

“With action-packed battle sequences and older computer-game references, [Arena] will appeal to fans of science fiction like Ernest Cline’s Armada.”—Booklist

About the Author
Holly Jennings is a lifelong gamer who has spent innumerable hours playing World of Warcraft and Call of Duty. Arena is her first novel. She lives in Canada, where she is working on the sequel.

Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof***

Copyright � 2016 Holly Jennings


CHAPTER 1


This wouldn’t be the first time I died. Sure as hell wouldn’t be the last, either. But while most watched this virtual world from the safe haven of reality, there was nowhere else I’d rather spend my Saturday night.

Crouched high on the tower’s parapet, I overlooked a sea of wheat fields. The scent of lavender and taste of wheatgrass wove together in the air, drifting with the breeze as it swept through my hair. I took a deep breath and smiled at the irony, as thick as the mountain air filling my lungs. Lavender. Wheat fields. Tranquility.

Peace, in a place anything but peaceful.

Movement in the fields caught my eye, down and right. A zigzag carved its way through the ten-foot-tall stalks, heading straight for the tower. My smile widened. Maybe this sucker had the balls to take on Kali Ling.

The warrior.

I stilled inside. Even breaths. No fear. At the field’s edge, the stalks trembled violently. The air filled with the rainstick rustling of brush and dry grass. Yes. Someone would emerge. I gripped the sword sheathed across my back and waited, muscles tight, mouth watering. Come on. Give me something. A brute. Six—no—seven feet tall, wielding a mace. Or an axe.

Give me anything.

A rabbit scurried out from the field. Nothing followed. The grass fluttered in the breeze. Birds chirped, nestled in the nearby sycamore trees. It was the rabbit, and only the rabbit.

For now.

I punched the parapet’s brick wall, but when my frustration subsided, I realized another irony. In 2054, most twenty-year-olds hid behind a barricade—of textbooks. Studying for hours, days, or even years on end, they’d hide away from the real world only to remerge bright and eager to end up in jobs they’d hate. Meanwhile, I strapped on battle gear, sword and all, and headed into these fields.

Fields I now frowned at, which had stilled just to spit on my excitement. Only streams of sunlight punctuated the stalks from above, like skylights from the heavens. Everything blended together in shades of beige as if the landscape had been whitewashed through a sepia lens. In the distance, the enemy’s tower loomed, wrapped in a corkscrew of mountains and rocky terrain. How many of them remained? How close were we to victory?

Shuffling footsteps turned my attention inside. I leapt from my perch and landed on the tower’s stone floor with the impact of a fallen leaf. The wind whispered around me as it bowed to my movements.

The warrior. Pffft. I should be the ninja.

A pigtailed blonde stood in the center of the tower, dwarfed by more than the stories-high walls around her. Lily, fair-skinned with delicate features, like the flower she was named for. Dressed like a scantily clad Scandinavian warrior, she wore nothing but fur-lined armor and a wicked grin. Her hands rested on the pair of short axes sheathed at her hips. Not so much like a flower.

Lily shook her head as she approached.

“Your eyes,” she said.

“What?”

“They can’t see your eyes.” She pushed up to her tiptoes and brushed strands of raven hair away from my face.

“Does it really matter?” I asked.

She frowned. Of course it mattered. Soft and black, my eyes were a distinguishing trait. How marketable.

How perfect.

“It’s the Death Match,” she said with a tsk. “Everything matters.”

“Did Clarence teach you to say that?”

“Do you think I would have listened?” She grinned and nodded at my perch. “How’s the view?”

“Boring.”

A piercing scream ripped through the stillness, resounding off the tower’s walls. My ears perked up, and I seized the dagger at my waist. Dust clung to the air in suspended animation, trapped like the breath inside my lungs. Then, chuckling at myself, I exhaled, released my grip on the weapon, and nudged Lily.

“Really? Did they tell Hannah to go down easy? God, they’ll do anything to add tension.”

My chuckles faded when I met Lily’s taut expression. She shook her head, drew an axe from her belt, and crept toward the tower’s entrance.

I scoffed.

“Lil, come on. There’s no way someone took her out that fast.”

“I’ll check it out anyways.”

“From the treetops?” I called out.

“Where else?”

Lily disappeared from view through the tower’s entrance. Leaves crunched, and branches snapped as she climbed. Then it went still.

A breeze drifted through the tower and brushed against my bare midriff. I adjusted the armor padding on my shoulders and gripped the sword at my back, drawing it out slowly, purposefully, to catch the late-afternoon sun glinting on the blade. As if millions were watching me.

Absolute quiet blanketed the tower. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped rustling.

My breath hitched.

I planted my feet, sword out. Ready. Scuffling footsteps and soft grunts sounded out beyond the tower walls, followed by sharp chopping and wet splats, like cleavers hacking up meat. Or a person. Then, nothing.

I took a step forward.

“Lily?”

Silence.

Then footsteps, heavy and rough, beat up the dirt path to the tower. Two men appeared in the entranceway, both tall enough to brush the top of the tower’s entrance. The metal armor covering their chests, wrists, and calves struggled to contain the muscle beneath, every buckle and clasp strained tight. Ribbons of blood snaked down the swords gripped in their hands. Not bad, boys, but certainly not enough.

Not for me.

“Is this it?” I asked with a grin. “I was hoping for a challenge.”

On cue, two more men appeared behind them.

Oh shit.

Four? What kind of crazy-ass ploy was this? Pushing into a tower with four left only one to guard their own. Where was the rest of my team? Why hadn’t they taken the enemy’s fortress?

Of the foursome, one had a cut down his eye and cheek and wore no armor on his chest. He moved toward me first, and the others fell in step behind. At the sound of their pursuit, he held a hand up and gave a swift shake of his head. They halted.

Taking me alone, One-eye? Impressive.

And completely dumb-ass stupid.

He broke off from the pack, leaving them at the door. The trio paced and whimpered, like hyenas waiting for the lion to make the kill. But like good animals, they obeyed their master.

One-eye charged, weapon raised, footsteps pounding across the stone floor. I remained, feet planted, bringing him to me. Breaths filled my lungs, slow and steady. A smile pulled at my lips.

Let’s dance.

He grunted as he swung for me, muscles straining. I parried his blows and swept him to the side. Like wind. Like water. Metal clanged against metal in a steady beat, his weapon slipping across mine every time.

We broke apart.

He grimaced, muscles clenched. Sweat dripped down his face. I grinned and rolled my shoulders, muscles like liquid. His knuckles turned white around the hilt of his sword. My weapon rotated with the flicks of my wrist, like an extension of my own limb.

He came at me again, making chopping motions in the air. The wind whined under the sharp slashes of steel. I stood tall as he reeled back and swung. As his sword whooshed through the air, I ducked. He stumbled past, revealing the canvas of his back. My sword ripped across it in so many rapid successions, I nearly wrote my name.

Zorro could kiss my ass.

One-eye went down to his knees, shaking. Breaths rasped through his lungs. Snorting like a bull, he pushed up to his feet and came at me again. Wielding his sword with both hands, he swung it like a bat, hard. The impact reverberated down my arms and knocked the sword from my grip. It went flying, smacked the far wall, and tumbled to the ground out of reach.

He grinned at me and brought his weapon down. I rolled, missing the blow. Drawing the dagger from my hip, I pushed up to my feet and slammed the blade into his shoulder. It disappeared down to the hilt. He groaned. I jerked it sideways. He cried out and dropped his sword. It clanked on the floor.

Blood poured out of the wound, gushing over my hand. I lost my grip on the dagger and tumbled to the ground.

Get up.

The instant my back hit the floor, I pushed up, but my heels slipped across the bloody floor. One-eye ripped the blade from his shoulder and advanced. I scrambled backwards.

Keep space. He can’t hit you if he can’t reach.

I backpedaled, trying to get my feet beneath me, heels not catching. Blood sprayed out from my kicking heels.

My back hit the wall.

Cornered. First rule of fighting: never get cornered. Damn it.

One-eye closed in.

My chest tightened until I gulped for air. No. I was fine. I’d died before. Simulations. Practices. They teach you how to die. Fighting with honor.

For the show.

He knelt and delivered a swift backhand across my face. My head snapped to the side, vision reeling. Pain blistered across my face with the sharp sting of a rubber band. One-eye straddled me and pushed his weight into my stomach. I gagged and wriggled beneath him, trying to free myself. No luck. His weight and legs formed a vise around my lower half.

In a sweeping arc, he swung the dagger toward my neck, like a reaper wielding his scythe. Skin slapped skin as I caught his forearm with both hands and strained against him. He grimaced and leaned forward, adding weight behind his strength. My hands trembled, muscles screaming in protest.

The blade lowered.

Cold steel kissed my skin. I gasped and bowed my neck in. Come on, Kali. Fight.

Every nerve in my arms and chest ached. The trembling in my hands descended into violent shakes. One-eye grinned down at me like an animal driven mad with hunger. The dagger dug into my throat, sharp and burning. I squirmed and clamped my teeth shut on a squeal.

“Shhh,” he hushed, condescending and overexaggerated. His crew of douche bags giggled in the background.

Blood trickled out of my neck. Fucking bastard. Didn’t cut deep. I’d bleed out in minutes, not seconds. He was drawing this out, purposely, to make me suffer.

With one hand, he pinned my wrists above my head and with the other, held the knife over my face. I braced for the final blow, straining every muscle against a shudder. But instead of bringing the knife down, he let it dangle just above my lips. My own blood, sweet and metallic, dripped down and seeped into my mouth. I sputtered and coughed. Laughter rumbled in his chest. He was enjoying this, sick asshole. And he should. He’d won.

I closed my eyes. This was it. Defeat. Might as well accept it.

No. That wasn’t part of my image. That wasn’t Kali Ling.

The warrior.

I wrenched a hand free and punched One-eye hard across the face. His head jerked sideways, but his weight remained planted on my hips. Damn it. I reached for his shoulder wound, dug my fingers inside, and pulled. He threw back his head and howled, legs convulsing around me from the pain.

I grinned, then faltered.

My neck.

My breaths morphed into gasps for air as the blood continued to drain from my throat. Numbness captured my fingers, and they slid down his chest, trailing three rows of fading blood across his skin. He looked down at me. Our eyes locked.

Mine fluttered.

He laughed, revealing a row of perfect, bleached teeth. That sardonic laugh reverberated in his chest, flexing muscles I’m sure were already flexed. It was over. He had won.

My hand collapsed to the floor. Coldness crept up my limbs as my vision whirled and faded.

No. This wasn’t happening. We don’t lose.

We never lose.

The weight pressed against my stomach lessened as One-eye leaned toward my face. His breath came out in snorts, ghosting across my cheeks. Sweat dripped from his skin and mingled with mine. It swirled together with the blood in my mouth, salt and metal. I gagged from the taste, and from the blood bubbling up my throat.

My breaths shortened. He grew closer still, until the heat from him radiated against my skin. An inch. Maybe less.

I could just picture the cameras zooming in.

“Night, night, sweetheart,” he whispered as my eyelids fluttered, and my head rolled to the side.

Despite the numbness, a flood of emotions rushed through me. Shock from losing the fight. Fear as the darkness closed in around me. Rage fueled by the adrenaline pumping through my veins. And beneath it all, I had to admit I was impressed.

He knew how to put on a damn good show.




From the Hardcover edition.

Most helpful customer reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
This is not a bad book, and has its upsides and enjoyable moments
By Amazon Customer
An odd mix of empowered folks taking it to the 'man', and a forced romance. This is not a bad book, and has its upsides and enjoyable moments; but overall was not a title I enjoyed.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Way too much focous on sex and sexual tension,
By Amazon Customer
Way too much focous on sex and sexual tension, cutting all that out would make for an epic action packed chapter or two

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
DNF at sixty pages.
By Silverscarf
I debated whether or not to actually write this review, I hate to write reviews on books or movies I didn't finish. Please don't decide to or to not read this book just because of this one review, I didn't finish the book, but you might like it more than I did.
When I saw this it sounded like the kind of book I would love, but I couldn't finish it. I was expecting something like Unreal Tournament meats the Matrix trying to be the UFC in a YA novel, perhaps my expectations were a bit too high, but I was hopeful, so hopeful. I DNFed at about sixty pages in, now normally I like to give books between fifty and a hundred pages to hook me. But here I just couldn't stand this book anymore. It's an interesting idea, and I really wanted to like it, but there was so much unnecessary crap to slog through, right away there was a great action sequence, but after that it just went downhill. The world building wasn't there, I didn't like the characters, it wasn't enjoyable at all. Major heads up to parents or younger readers, this is a very adult book, not young adult but new adult, in just the sixty pages I read there was explicit swearing, sex, lots of drugs and alcohol, and gore. None of these things really bothered me, but I like to let people know about that stuff. This is effectively an R-rated book. After reading some of the other reviews said that it can get really repetitive, I can't imagine a video game sports league where in the one sort of combat event there is only one map. Can you imagine how boring your favorite game would be if it only had one map, one level, one mode of game play? After I knew that it got worse than what I was already experiencing, I just decided to call it quits. Maybe it was just that the writer in me kept speaking up that there were so many things that I would have done differently, but I didn't like this book and maybe it just wasn't for me, but I couldn't finish it. If you are looking for a more mature type of video game centric novel then you might very well like this more than I did, I recommend checking out the kindle sample or getting it from the library to find out.

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Jumat, 20 Januari 2012

[Z527.Ebook] PDF Download Therapeutic Pediatric Nutrition, by Madhu Sharma

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Brand New Book in Perfect Condition.Fast Shipping with tracking number.

  • Sales Rank: #6521798 in Books
  • Published on: 2011-06-30
  • Original language: English
  • Dimensions: 7.09" h x 3.94" w x .55" l, 1.10 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 278 pages

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Rabu, 04 Januari 2012

[S470.Ebook] Ebook Download Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

Ebook Download Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

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Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey



Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

Ebook Download Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

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Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey

A thrilling novel of the opening of Japan to the West, by the acclaimed author of�Saigon�and�Peking�

A fleet of smoking black ships steam past Japan’s tributary islands in July 1853, setting off panic among a people who have been sealed off from the rest of the world for over two hundred years. Commodore Matthew Perry has been sent by the US president to open Japan to American ships and trade—by force, if necessary. Navy lieutenant Robert Eden, an idealistic New Englander, immediately recognizes that the colonial intentions of his technologically advanced countrymen toward the feudal, sword-wielding samurai will ignite a violent conflict. Inspired to pursue peace, he jumps ship and finds himself plunged into an entirely new world of menacing warriors, distraught Japanese who view Americans as monsters, and ravishing geisha. All of Eden’s efforts are in the name of a lasting peace, but can he survive the cataclysmic clash of two strong cultures?

  • Sales Rank: #385734 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2014-11-18
  • Released on: 2014-11-18
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Review
“The historical panorama is told through people compellingly, with the potent gift of the storyteller, which keeps the reader tensely turning the pages. . . . The characters are three-dimensional, vivid; the aura of old Japan as strong and filmic as a ‘No’ drama, the love scenes as delicate, sensual and erotic as woodblock by Hokusai.” —Eastern Daily Press

“[Grey] has hit upon a winning formula for historical novels that rest on solid research and are painstakingly balanced.” —The Japan Times

About the Author
Anthony Grey became a foreign correspondent with Reuters after beginning his career in journalism in Norfolk, England, where he was born and educated. He reported on the Cold War from East Berlin, Prague, Warsaw, Budapest, Sofia, and Bucharest for two years before being assigned to China to cover the Cultural Revolution. There, his imprisonment by Red Guards in a house beside the historic Forbidden City of China’s emperors attracted worldwide headlines for over two years. After his release, he was awarded the Order of the British Empire (OBE) for services to journalism, and was named UK Journalist of the Year. He has gone on to become a radio and television broadcaster, bestselling historical novelist, independent publisher, and frequent public speaker. 

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
I was a little bit disappointed in Tokyo Bay
By LindaK
Having recently read Saigon by this author, I was eager to read Tokyo Bay. I was a little bit disappointed in Tokyo Bay. The characters didn't seem to be developed as well as in Saigon and the ending sort of left me hanging - a sequel in the works perhaps? The editing in Tokyo Bay is not as good as in Saigon. Syntax errors and missing words detract from the readability of Tokyo Bay. But, with that said, it is a good read.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
However Tokyo Bay was a real disappointment. A really silly plot with unbelievable characters
By Amazon Customer
After reading Saigon, I was so impressed with this author that I looked forward to reading more of his books. However Tokyo Bay was a real disappointment. A really silly plot with unbelievable characters, unfortunately I gave up after the first couple of hundred pages. My husband read the whole book and told me not to bother wasting my time by continuing.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A plodder that then leaves serious plot lines unresolved
By Neil
I rarely write reviews and even more so bad ones. But don't waste your time on this one. I had high hopes at the start, but the plot went in some unbelievable directions and then left several major plot lines and character issues completely unresolved at the end. At the end I viewed it as a waste of my time.

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Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey PDF
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Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey PDF

Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey PDF

Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey PDF
Tokyo Bay: A Novel of Japan, by Anthony Grey PDF