Shirley Jackson’s beloved gothic tale of a peculiar girl named Merricat and her family’s dark secret Taking readers deep into a labyrinth of dark neurosis, We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a deliciously unsettling novel about a perverse, isolated, and possibly murderous family and the struggle that ensues when a cousin arrives at their estate. This edition features a new introduction by Jonathan Lethem.

Laura Palmer was introduced to television audiences in the opening scenes of Twin Peaks as a beautiful dead girl, wrapped in plastic. Now available in print for the first time in many years (and in e-book for the very first time!), The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer chronicles Laura's life from age 12 to her death at 17, and is filled with secrets, character references, and even clues to the identity of her eventual killer. Fans of the show will love seeing their favorite characters again, and Laura's diary makes compelling reading as she turns from a naive freshman having her first kiss to a "bad girl" experimenting with drugs, sex and the occult. "As seen by" Jennifer Lynch, creator David Lynch's daughter, The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer is authentic, creepy, and a perfect book for anyone who loves supernatural suspense.

In its adventurous happenings, its abductions, duels, and sexual intrigues, A Hero of Our Time looks backward to the tales of Sir Walter Scott and Lord Byron, so beloved by Russian society in the 1820s and '30s. In the character of its protagonist, Pechorin, the archetypal Russian antihero, Lermontov's novel looks forward to the subsequent glories and passion of Russian literature that it helped, in great measure, to make possible.

The first novel in Isaac Asimov's classic science-fiction masterpiece, the Foundation series For twelve thousand years the Galactic Empire has ruled supreme. Now it is dying. But only Hari Seldon, creator of the revolutionary science of psychohistory, can see into the future--to a dark age of ignorance, barbarism, and warfare that will last thirty thousand years. To preserve knowledge and save humankind, Seldon gathers the best minds in the Empire--both scientists and scholars--and brings them to a bleak planet at the edge of the galaxy to serve as a beacon of hope for future generations. He calls his sanctuary the Foundation.

Reykjavík, the near-future. Society is divided by a development in social technology—a diagnostic tool called The Empathy Test that measures compassion or amorality.In less than two months, a national referendum will determine whether 'marking' each citizen with their results of the test will become compulsory. Four main characters—Vetur, Eyja, Óli, and Tristan—face dilemmas of agency and autonomy while navigating their everyday desires and duties. As the dawn of irreversible changes in healthcare ethics, socioeconomic stability and the cultural fabric draws nearer, the mark of judgment lays bare the balance of their personal and political loyalties and conflicts.Polyphonic and profound, probing and perturbing, The Mark is a fresh and confident take on populism, polarization, and partisanship. Powerful, compulsively readable and radically contemporary, it asks us whether we want to live in a world defined by faith in each other, or fear of the future...

For over three decades, Kristín Ómarsdóttir's poetry has thrived in the vanguard of Icelandic literature. Waitress in Fall offers anglophone readers the first substantial selection of her poems in translation. Spanning thirty years and seven collections, from her first to her latest, this is a wide-reaching introduction to a vital voice of contemporary European poetry. Kristín's work resists the sweet, the neat or the certain. Her poems delight in the lush mess of actual life, in its hands and fingers, lemons and clocks, socks, soldiers, snow, mothers, knives, nightstands, sweat and crockery. If the domestic is at the heart of the work, it is a domesticity tinged with threat. Something ‘clear and ominous’ is taking shape between the lines. Images of placid mid-century housewifery confront a wildness pulsing below the surface, a womanhood at once natural and supernatural – of evening dresses woven from twigs, necklaces strung with worms, and socks knitted from saliva. These are surreal, unsettling landscapes, in which children lap milk from trees and car tires are ‘soft as skin’. But Kristín's poems are also full of laughter, sex, and love. They accept vulnerability as a condition of intimacy. Erupting ‘wherever thirst is ignited’, they are not afraid to strike, to rage, recognising a right – a responsibility – to risk the necessary word, ‘to wound the language’.