Everyone knew her. A lot of them like her. One of them killed her. Jeanne Clinton was a pretty and well-liked woman—though in her younger days she'd been known to be a bit wild. But she married an older man and settled down to a quiet, respectable life. Now she is dead, brutally murdered in her home. Dan Rhodes, the thoughtful, hard-working sheriff of Blacklin County, Texas, has enough to worry about already: a rash of burglaries in town and an election coming up against a hot-shot opponent. Now he's got to find a killer among the residents of his little town—a wily killer, bound and determined not to be caught. The deeper Rhodes digs into the hearts and minds of his neighbors, the more secrets he turned up...and the more violence he encounters. But Rhodes doesn't give up easily. And neither does the killer.
With a voice as disarmingly bold, funny, and unsentimental as its author, a thoroughly unconventional memoir that shatters the myth of the tragic disabled life Harriet McBryde Johnson isn't sure, but she thinks one of her earliest memories was learning that she will die. The message came from a maudlin TV commercial for the Muscular Dystrophy Association that featured a boy who looked a lot like her. Then as now, Johnson tended to draw her own conclusions. In secret, she carried the knowledge of her mortality with her and tried to sort out what it meant. By the time she realized she wasn't a dying child, she was living a grown-up life, intensely engaged with people, politics, work, struggle, and community. Due to a congenital neuromuscular disease, Johnson has never been able to walk, dress, or bathe without assistance. With help, however, she manages to take on the world. From the streets of Havana, where she covers an international disability rights conference, to the floor of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, to an auditorium at Princeton, where she defends her right to live against philosopher Peter Singer, she lives a life on her own terms. And along the way, she defies and debunks every popular assumption about disability. This unconventional memoir opens with a lyrical meditation on death and ends with a surprising sermon on pleasure. In between, we get the tales Johnson most enjoys telling from her own life. This is not a book "about disability" but it will surprise anyone who has ever imagined that life with a severe disability is inherently worse than another kind of life.
When a squad of combat engineers blows up a decrepit building in the waning days of the Vietnam War, they set off an obsession in a CIA agent, which leaves a decades-long trail of blood coast to coast across the United States. Private investigator Harley Napoleon, hired by the widow of one of the engineers, gets snared in a web of lies and threats as he tries to solve the puzzle of what happened back then and winds up at odds with a present-day mobster, congressman, and general.
"Rock journalism," Frank Zappa once harrumphed, "is people who can't write interviewing people who can't talk for people who can't read." Whatever, Frank. 'It's Too Late To Die Young Now' is both a memoir and a defence of rock journalism - a field mythologised and derided like few others. With good reason, according to Andrew Mueller - and he would know. Mueller began writing for the Australian street press while still in his teens, and by his early twenties was working for the legendary UK music weekly 'Melody Maker'. In a matter of a few years he went from a childhood bedroom dominated by a poster of Robert Smith to The Cure's tour bus. Nobody knew it at the time, but the period in which Mueller got to be a rock journalist - the late '80s to mid '90s, dominated by grunge and the Britpop response to it - turned out to be something of a valedictory hurrah for the music press. 'It's Too Late To Die Young Now' is basically 'Almost Famous' on a much lower budget, a heartfelt and hilarious eulogy to a life that seems even less probable now than it did at the time.
A civil rights advocate for people with disabilities describes the congenital neuromuscular disease that rendered her dependent on the assistance of others, her life-long struggle against popular assumptions about disabled people, and her philosophical and practical beliefs about mortality. Reprint. 25,000 first printing.
It's Too Late to Die Young Now answers the question: what became of the rock writer the day the music died? There is no field of journalism more mythologised or more derided than rock journalism - with good reason, according to Andrew Mueller. And he'd know. Starting out writing for the Sydney music street press in his teens, by his early twenties, Mueller was working for the legendary UK music weekly Melody Maker, earning a living by listening to records, going to gigs, hanging out in seedy pubs and travelling the world with his favourite rock groups. In barely two years, he went from a childhood bedroom with a poster of Robert Smith to The Cure's tour bus. Though it didn't seem like it at the time, the years Mueller was living the dream - the late-eighties to the mid-nineties - were actually the last hurrah for the music scene as we knew it. The era of flourishing live pub venues and record stores, and rock journalists as cultural arbiters and agitators, is now long gone. Featuring cameo appearances from luminaries of the Seattle grunge boom and the Britpop response to it, and encounters with the likes of U2, The Cure, Pearl Jam, The Fall and Elvis Costello, It's Too Late to Die Young Now is an Almost Famous for Generation X, and a hilarious and heartfelt eulogy to a life that seems even less probable now than it did at the time.