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Table of contents
Princeton Book Company, Last Night on Earth , Jones and Arnie Zane , Dance , Want to know what keeps Bill T. Jones inspired? Smith — like Jones — gives us God, and blood, and dance, but through another medium. Come, tonight I declare we must move instead of pray. Tonight, east of here, two boys, one dressed in what could be blood. Tonight, the bullet does not exist. Tonight, the police.
Dragon's Gift (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy, #1) by Jasmine Walt
O, precious God! O, sweet black town! When I get to the boy. Sep , Bill T. Office Hours. Office Hours Bonus. Hot Off the Presses. New York Times interview with Bill T. Jones Pure dance no longer holds the allure it once did for Bill T. Learn More. Sebald Jones Bookshelf. Javascript is not enabled in your browser.
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NOOK Book. Includes a brand-new Binti story! Collected for the first time in an omnibus edition, the Hugo- and Nebula-award-winning Binti trilogy, the story of one extraordinary girl's journey from her home to distant Oomza University. In her Hugo- and Nebula-winning novella, Nnedi Okorafor introduced us to Binti, a young Himba girl with the chance of a lifetime: to attend the prestigious Oomza University. Despite her family's concerns, Binti's talent for mathematics and her aptitude with astrolabes make her a prime candidate to undertake this interstellar journey.
But everything changes when the jellyfish-like Medusae attack Binti's spaceship, leaving her the only survivor. Now, Binti must fend for herself, alone on a ship full of the beings who murdered her crew, with five days until she reaches her destination. If Binti is to survive this voyage and save the inhabitants of the unsuspecting planet that houses Oomza Uni, it will take all of her knowledge and talents to broker the peace.
Collected now for the first time in omnibus form, follow Binti's story in this groundbreaking sci-fi trilogy. She has been the winner of many awards for her short stories and young adult books, and won a World Fantasy Award for Who Fears Death.
Nnedi's books are inspired by her Nigerian heritage and her many trips to Africa. Read an Excerpt I powered up the transporter and said a silent prayer. My transporter was cheap, so even a droplet of moisture, or more likely, a grain of sand, would cause it to short. It was faulty and most of the time I had to restart it over and over before it worked. Please not now, please not now, I thought. The transporter shivered in the sand and I held my breath. Tiny, flat, and black as a prayer stone, it buzzed softly and then slowly rose from the sand.
Finally, it produced the baggage-lifting force. I grinned. Now I could make it to the shuttle. I swiped otjize from my forehead with my index finger and knelt down. Then I touched the finger to the sand, grounding the sweet smelling red clay into it. It was a half-mile walk along the dark desert road. With the transporter working, I would make it there on time.
Straightening up, I paused and shut my eyes. Now the weight of my entire life was pressing on my shoulders. I was defying the most traditional part of myself for the first time in my entire life. I was leaving in the dead of night and they had no clue. My nine siblings, all older than me except for my younger sister and brother, would never see this coming. In my absence, my parents would growl to each other that I was to never set foot in their home again. I was going to be a pariah. The thin metal rings I wore around each ankle jingled noisily, but I stamped my foot again.
When nothing moved, I chanced giving the two large suitcases sitting atop the force field a shove. They moved smoothly and I breathed another sigh of relief.
At least some luck was on my side. Fifteen minutes later I purchased a ticket and boarded the shuttle. The sun was barely beginning to peak over the horizon. As I moved past seated passengers far too aware of the bushy ends of my plaited hair softly slapping people in the face, I cast my eyes to the floor. Our hair is thick and mine has always been very thick.
A woman leaned away from me as I passed, her face pinched as if she smelled something foul. Two girls who might have been a few years older than me, covered their mouths with hands so pale that they looked untouched by the sun. Everyone looked as if the sun was his or her enemy. I was the only Himba on the shuttle. I quickly found and moved to a seat. These ones glided fast over land using a combination of air current, magnetic fields, and exponential energy— an easy craft to build if you had the equipment and the time.
It was also a nice vehicle for hot desert terrain where the roads leading out of town were terribly maintained.
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I sat in the back so I could look out the large window. Six generations of my family had lived there. It was the oldest house in my village, maybe the oldest in the city.