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Buddha’s Brain

If you change your brain, you can change your life.Great teachers like the Buddha, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed, and Gandhi were all born with brains built essentially like anyone else’s—and then they changed their brains in ways that changed the world. Science is now revealing how the flow of thoughts actually sculpts the brain, and more and more, we are learning that it’s possible to strengthen positive brain states.By combining breakthroughs in neuroscience with insights from thousands of years of mindfulness practice, you too can use your mind to shape your brain for greater happiness, love, and wisdom. Buddha’s Brain draws on the latest research to show how to stimulate your brain for more fulfilling relationships, a deeper spiritual life, and a greater sense of inner confidence and worth. Using guided meditations and mindfulness exercises, you’ll learn how to activate the brain states of calm, joy, and compassion instead of worry, sorrow, and anger. Most importantly, you will foster positive psychological growth that will literally change the way you live in your day-to-day life.This book presents an unprecedented intersection of psychology, neurology, and contemplative practice, and is filled with practical tools and skills that you can use every day to tap the unused potential of your brain and rewire it over time for greater well-being and peace of mind.

Broken Homes

My name is Peter Grant, and I am a keeper of the secret flame — whatever that is. Truth be told, there’s a lot I still don’t know. My superior Nightingale, previously the last of England’s wizardly governmental force, is trying to teach me proper schooling for a magician’s apprentice. But even he doesn’t have all the answers. Mostly I’m just a constable sworn to enforce the Queen’s Peace, with the occasional help from some unusual friends and a well-placed fire blast. With the new year, I have three main objectives, a) pass the detective exam so I can officially become a DC, b) work out what the hell my relationship with Lesley Mai, an old friend from the force and now fellow apprentice, is supposed to be, and most importantly, c) get through the year without destroying a major landmark. Two out of three isn’t bad, right? A mutilated body in Crawley means another murderer is on the loose. The prime suspect is one Robert Weil, who may either be a common serial killer or an associate of the twisted magician known as the Faceless Man — a man whose previous encounters I’ve barely survived. I’ve also got a case about a town planner going under a tube train and another about a stolen grimoire. But then I get word of something very odd happening in Elephant and Castle, on a housing estate designed by a nutter, built by charlatans, and inhabited by the truly desperate. If there’s a connection to the Crawley case, I’ll be entering some tricky waters of jurisdiction with the local river spirits. We have a prickly history, to say the least.


**All hell is breaking loose in the edge-of-your-seat follow-up to *Havoc* and *Perdition* from *New York Times* bestselling author Ann Aguirre… **
The prison ship Perdition has become a post-battle charnel house with only a handful of Dred’s soldiers still standing and now being hunted by Silence’s trained tongueless assassins. Forging an uneasy alliance with mercenary commander Vost – who is their only chance at escape – the Dread Queen will do whatever it takes to end her life sentence on Perdition and keep the survivors alive long enough to cobble together a transport capable of getting them off station.
If Dred and her crew can win the deadly game of cat and mouse, the payoff is not only life but freedom – a prize sweeter than their wildest dreams. Yet the sadistic Silence would rather destroy Perdition than let a single soul slip from her grasp…

Brautigan, Un Rêveur à Babylone

Keith Abott fut pendant dix-huit ans l’un des plus fidèles compagnons de Brautigan.
Cette biographie est donc un formidable témoignage sur les sixties psychédéliques de San Francisco, la vie échevelée à Haight Street, et les happenings beatnicks. On y apprend l’adulation dont Brautigan était l’objet de 67 à 74, la maniaquerie avec laquelle il rédigeait ses ouvrages. Ensuite, c’est sa vie dans la ferme du Montana. Puis vient le temps de la paranoïa. Brautigan est alors cet alcoolique acerbe qui fait le vide autour de lui.
Mais même à cette époque du déclin, il reste avant tout l’immense écrivain qui, deux jours avant de se suicider, écrivait encore des poèmes-joyaux parlant de mort, d’amour, de désastre et de fatalité. Pour mieux connaître l’auteur de La Pêche à la truite en Amérique.

Bouncing Off the Moon

### From Publishers Weekly
Nebula Award winner Gerrold doesn’t disappoint in this follow-up to 2000’s Jumping Off the Planet. Charles “Chigger” Dingillian and his brothers believe they can get along well enough without their recently divorced parents, if they just stick together. They move off Earth and discover that a robot monkey given to the youngest of them possesses a computer far more advanced than might be required of a toy. In fact the computer is of a power that could make trillions of dollars for the owner. The youth of the protagonists automatically reminds one of Heinlein’s juveniles. Though it is doubtful that the convoluted science here could be followed by Heinlein’s targeted 12- to 14-year-olds, it really doesn’t matter, because the real story is that of being thrust into a world that is adult indeed. After Chigger and his brothers leave Earth just in time to escape a plague that results in social and economic collapse, new friends lead them aboard an automated cargo pod bound for the moon. The moon is an unforgiving and potentially deadly environment, but the brothers soon wonder whether several mishaps are just that or deliberate attempts at murder. As the story continues, the line that divides friend from foe becomes more and more indistinct in this engaging, believable and eventually riveting book from the author revered for his immensely popular Star Trek teleplay, “The Trouble with Tribbles.” (Apr. 12)
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.
### From
As the even more Heinlein-indebted sequel to *Jumping off the Planet* (2000) develops, the three young Dingillian brothers, aided by loquacious money launderer Alexei Krislov, must sneak off Geosynchronous Station to the moon. There they take a long hike across the rugged surface, which abounds with technological and natural wonders, and meet more perils than Pauline ever faced, as well as suspected human treachery on all sides. They barely run that gauntlet, only to fall into the hands of the legal authorities, who, acting on behalf of would-be claimants, seek the youngest brother’s robot monkey for what it contains–one of the most advanced artificial intelligences in existence. Thanks to a libertarian judge and the AI, acting as machina ex deo, so to speak, the ending is extravagantly happy. Charlie Dingillian, the narrator, remains a convincing, complex 13-year-old, and his portrayal of his family’s dysfunctioning still rings true, though the sequel lacks the exuberant creativity and tight narrative of its predecessor. *Roland Green*
*Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved*

Born at Midnight

Welcome to Shadow Falls camp, nestled deep in the woods of a town called Fallen…
One night Kylie Galen finds herself at the wrong party, with the wrong people, and it changes her life forever.  Her mother ships her off to Shadow Falls—a camp for troubled teens, and within hours of arriving, it becomes painfully clear that her fellow campers aren’t just “troubled.”  Here at Shadow Falls, vampires, werewolves, shapshifters, witches and fairies train side by side—learning to harness their powers, control their magic and live in the normal world.
Kylie’s never felt normal, but surely she doesn’t belong here with a bunch of paranormal freaks either.  Or does she?  They insist Kylie is one of them, and that she was brought here for a reason.  As if life wasn’t complicated enough, enter Derek and Lucas.  Derek’s a half-fae who’s determined to be her boyfriend, and Lucas is a smokin’ hot werewolf with whom Kylie shares a secret past.  Both Derek and Lucas couldn’t be more different, but they both have a powerful hold on her heart. 
Even though Kylie feels deeply uncertain about everything, one thing is becoming painfully clear—Shadow Falls is exactly where she belongs…

Body, Inc.

***New York Times* bestselling author Alan Dean Foster has always been on the cutting-edge of science fiction. In *Body, Inc.,* he creates a tomorrow where genetic manipulation has become ubiquitous, and the very meaning of what it is to be human is undergoing drastic transformation.**

In a world deeply wounded by centuries of environmental damage, two unlikely souls join forces: Dr. Ingrid Seastrom has stumbled into a mystery involving quantum-entangled nanoscale implants—a mystery that just may kill her. Whispr is a thief and murderer whose radical body modifications have left him so thin he is all but two-dimensional. Whispr has found a silver data-storage thread, a technology that will make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He is also going mad with longing for Dr. Ingrid Seastrom. Their quest to learn the secrets of the implant and the thread—which may well be the same secret—has led them to the South African Economic Combine, otherwise known as SAEC. Or, less respectfully, SICK.  SICK, it seems, has the answers.

Unfortunately, SICK has also got Napun Molé, a cold-blooded assassin whose genetic enhancements make him the equivalent of a small army. Molé has already missed one chance to kill Ingrid and Whispr and now he has followed them to South Africa. This time, he is not only going to succeed, he is going to make them suffer.

*From the Trade Paperback edition.*
### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Whispr knew for certain that he was in Africa when the pair of black leopards shot past him in the airport corridor. His companion, cautious business partner, overbearing scientific advisor, and (dare he think it?) sometime personal physician, Dr. Ingrid Seastrom, let out a gasp and dropped to her knees as one of the big cats forcefully brushed her right leg in passing. Unlike their now panicky intended quarry the leopards tore through the terminal in complete silence. An equivalent airport Immigration and Security team back home in Namerica would have used dogs, an admiring Whispr thought as he watched the two carnivores take down their target. Amid screams and shouts, other equally startled arriving passengers were quick to scatter and give the cats room.

Pinning him to the ground beneath weight, fang, and claw they did not begin to devour the man they had trapped. In its excitement the larger of the two felines urinated on the frightened captive’s legs. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the terminal. As Whispr had quickly assumed, both melanistic predators had been thoroughly maniped. Snapping against their muscular chests and flanks, loose-fitting lightweight vests flashing the SAEC’s bright colors identified them as members of the Helen Zillie International Airport’s security team. Strips of gleaming metal set atop their skulls between their ears testified to the skills of the biosurges who had installed the controlling implants.

Like the vests, the complex neuroplants were also probably South African Economic Combine products, Whispr mused. With impossibly slender and deceptively strong arms he helped the stunned Ingrid to her feet. The secrets of one peculiar kind of advanced SAEC technology–SICK technology–was what they had come all the way from Georgia and Florida to try to unlock. Less dramatic and more subtle, their purpose unknown, the quantum entangled nanoscale implants that had first intrigued and subsequently inveigled Ingrid Seastrom were infinitely more sophisticated than straightforward animal manips.

“Startled me.” Ingrid continued to mumble to herself as she straightened her pantsuit.

She wasn’t worried about her temporary dishabille or the fact that she had been knocked down. Overriding any and all other concerns was the need to keep safe the tiny silvery storage thread of metastable metallic hydrogen that lay hidden in a sealed security compartment within one cup of her brasserie. She worried about the shard’s security because it represented a whole series of scientific breakthroughs and unknown social possibilities, some of them sinister. Whispr worried about it because if it were to be damaged or destroyed it surely wouldn’t bring as high a price as it would if they could keep it intact.

Knowing her to be a consummate worrier, he wondered if Seastrom ever worried about him. Ever since he had obsessively but foolishly planted that scent-sucking zoe on her in Florida she had held herself even more distant than ever. Despite this her continuing disinterest in him no way lessened his feverish desire for her. But he had vowed to act the gentleman, much as that remained an abstract concept to a street survivor like himself. Not because he didn’t feel the urge every day, every hour, to pull her close to him and press his mouth against hers, but because at this point in their relationship it would be a bad move from a business standpoint.

He looked at her, drank in the sight of her, with great pleasure every chance he got. Even in her current disguise mode with her blond hair blackened, her cheeks puffed with temp collagen, the additional weight she had put on, and the contacts that changed her eye color every couple of hours, he still found her irresistibly enticing. He loved the way she looked, the way she walked, even the slightly stilted professorial way she talked. His attraction had nothing to do with the fact that he was a Meld and she was a Natural. Knowing full well that she would find any such expressions of admiration on his part unutterably annoying, he kept them to himself. Besides, they had work to do and surveillance to avoid.

Unlike the terrified young man who had been taken down by the leopards and was now being rescued and arrested by the big cats’ handlers, they had made it quietly through Immigration and Customs without any difficulty. Traveling with only hand baggage, they headed for the nearest Transportation kiosk. Some of the other disembarking passengers had stopped to watch as a trio of cops placed the unfortunate lawbreaker in securestrips. None of them were citizens of the SAEC, for whom such sights were old news.

“I wonder what they’re holding him for?” As Ingrid looked back at the scene she saw that the young man still wore a look of utter terror. She didn’t blame him. Not with two full-grown maniped male black leopards hoping to make hors d’oeuvres of his toes and barely restrained by their handlers.

Whispr was more interested in finding immediate transportation into the city proper. He had been witness to far too many arrests to find this one worthy of his time, the exoticism of the circumstances notwithstanding.

“Probably trying to sneak into the country illegally,” he opined. In the old days, he knew, the frenetic apprehension and subsequent arrest would likely have involved drugs. Imagine locking someone up for possessing recreational pharmaceuticals! What little he knew of history never failed to amuse him.

“As I understand it there’s three Africas: North, Central, and South. North is philosophically and spiritually confused, Central is like downtown Old Atlanta at two in the morning–only with a quarter billion people, and the South is where everyone in the Central and much of the North wants to be. Mostly because the SAEC and the South is where the subsist is.” Turning, he nodded back in the direction of the now stripped and secured illegal visitor.

“Gotta give the crazy Natural credit. Instead of sneaking across the border through a tunnel up north he bought a ticket and tried flying in like an ordinary traveler.”

In her mind’s eye Ingrid could still see the black slash of the police leopard streaking past her. “What do you think they’ll do to him?”

Whispr shrugged. Among the many welcoming flads trying to cozy up to them was one for a vehicle rental company. Sticking a finger into the glowing sphere had instantly activated its functions. It trailed hopefully behind them as they continued on through the Arrivals area.

“Deport him if he’s lucky. Slap him in detention if he’s not. Feed him to cats if the cops are in the mood.”

Her eyes widened. Where medicine and science were concerned Ingrid Seastrom was utterly up-to-date, but concerning Real Life she could be woefully ignorant.

“I’m kidding.” A smile cut his angular visage and she favored him with a look of disgust.

Actually he didn’t have a clue what the local cops did with illegal immigrants. With a lineage that included sjambok-wielding Afrikaans security, bomb-making ANC revolutionaries, fearless Zulu warriors, and modern police melds, it wouldn’t have surprised him a bit to learn that the cost of securing borders that were under constant pressure from desperate would-be immigrants was occasionally offset by offering up pieces of said intruders in lieu of expensive leopard food. Did illegals from Mauritania taste different from, say, renegade Somalis? The thought would never have occurred to a Natural like Ingrid. To an ultra-slenderized Meld like Whispr it was perfectly–natural.

Hovering close to his left arm, the basketball-sized floating advertisement fended off competing flads with barely audible bursts of static electricity. As it urged them forward it declaimed with soft mechanical enthusiasm on the advantages of renting a roadster from the company it represented. Whispr ignored the sales pitch. They had engaged with the flad merely to help them locate the Arrivals Transportation desk. Whispr had no intention of renting a vehicle immediately upon entering the country. SICK had managed to track them down and send someone after the thread while they were in Florida. Though Whispr was pretty confident they had managed to subsequently elude the company’s inimical attentions, he had not survived this long on the street by taking chances or moving too fast.

Once they reached the government-sponsored Transportation kiosk he dismissed the flad. It evinced no disappointment as it drifted off in search of other customers. Modern mobile advertisements preyed effectively on emotions but did not have any of their own.

Ingrid was already playing her hands over one of the several available holos. In response to her gestures all manner of public transportation lit up beneath her fingertips: taxis, buses, rail, aircraft, even maniped animals-for-hire. The latter were strictly for the tourist trade, an interested but realistic Whispr knew.

She eventually lowered her hands. “I’ve figured out how to get there, but how should we go? Where should we stay tonight?”

“Same routine as Florida,” he told her. “Small hotel. Not too fancy, not too cheap. Same for the part of town. A suburb always draws less attention than the center of a city.” He altered his voice to mimic that of an ancient Namerican actor whose work he had always enjoyed. “Ah’m a stranger here m’self.”

As usual, she didn’t get the joke.

With a nod she turned and put the request to the Transportation vorec. Connected to every other component of the greater Cape Town box it quickly provided half a dozen suggestions. One was quickly chosen, two rooms (Whispr let out a sigh but said nothing) reserved, and a deposit put down via her aliased credcard.

As they boarded the transport capsule at the airport’s station they did not notice the two figures who stepped quietly away from the far wall and set off in their wake.

A small community of historic importance on the western shore of False Bay, Simon’s Town was sufficiently developed to provide the facilities they needed while offering exactly the…


“Bluescreen is a stunning deluge of imagination, filled with suspense and twists and unforgettable characters. This book is just plain awesome.”—James Dashner, bestselling author of The Maze Runner

From Dan Wells, author of the New York Times bestselling Partials Sequence, comes the first book in a new sci-fi-noir series. Los Angeles in 2050 is a city of open doors, as long as you have the right connections. That connection is a djinni—a smart device implanted right in a person’s head. In a world where virtually everyone is online twenty-four hours a day, this connection is like oxygen—and a world like that presents plenty of opportunities for someone who knows how to manipulate it.

Marisa Carneseca is one of those people. She might spend her days in Mirador, but she lives on the net—going to school, playing games, hanging out, or doing things of more questionable legality with her friends Sahara and Anja. And it’s Anja who first gets her…

Blue Diablo

Read Ann Aguirre’s posts on the Penguin Blog
**“Gritty, steamy and altogether wonderful urban fantasy.”— *New York Times* Bestselling Author Patricia Briggs**
**View our feature on Ann Aguirre’s *Blue Diablo*.**
“Right now, I’m a redhead. I’ve been blonde and brunette as the situation requires, though an unscheduled color change usually means relocating in the middle of the night. So far, I’m doing well here. Nobody knows what I’m running from. And I’d like to keep it that way…”
Eighteen months ago, Corine Solomon crossed the border and wound up in Mexico City, fleeing her past, her lover, and her “gift”. Corine, a handler, can touch something and know its history—and sometimes, its future. Using her ability, she can find the missing—and that’s why people never stop trying to find her. People like her ex, Chance…
Chance, whose uncanny luck has led him to her doorstep, needs her help. Someone dear to them both has gone missing in Laredo, Texas, and the only hope of finding her is through Corine’s gift. But their search may prove dangerous as the trail leads them into a strange dark world of demons and sorcerers, ghosts and witchcraft, zombies—and black magic…


After 20 years, Jon Shannow, the legendary Jerusalem Man, returns for a deadly showdown with the fiendish Deacon, the vicious Jerusalem Riders, and a monstrous god that feeds on souls.

From the Paperback edition.