Provides a detailed investigation of various facets of America's involvement with nuclear power--including both wartime and peacetime applications--and exposes the dangers of and potential disasters in the nuclear industry

'Gloriously funny . . . unfailingly entertaining' – Mail on Sunday 'What worlds she's seen, what a life she's had – at long last, the memoirs of the fearless, witty, indomitable Ann Leslie' – Deborah Moggach She has been shot at by Bosnian snipers, been pursued by Robert Mugabe’s notorious secret police, filed from the North Korean border, propositioned by both Salvador Dali and David Niven and been driven maniacally through London by Steve McQueen. But Ann Leslie’s life is every bit as remarkable as her career. A daughter of the Raj, she was born in India and the strongest influence on her early life was an illiterate Pashtun bearer, who saved her life during Partition. Her mother, a great beauty, was indifferent to her eldest daughter and she was sent to the first of a series of boarding-schools aged just four, eventually winning a scholarship to Oxford. After graduating she began her career at the Manchester office of the Daily Express, where the news editor took an instant dislike to her - she was a southerner, educated and – worst of all – female. Despite his best efforts she was soon given her own column. Then, after a stint covering show business she was appointed Foreign Correspondent of the Daily Mail, an association that endures today, almost forty years later, and one which finally allowed her real talent to shine through. Killing My Own Snakes is a witty, incident-filled account of an extraordinary life, a fascinating self-portrait of one the most influential journalists of our time.

How do you get away with the murder of 11 million people? The answer is simple—and disturbing. You lie to them. Learn how you can become an informed, passionate citizen who demands honesty and integrity from your leaders. In this nonpartisan New York Times bestselling book, Andy Andrews emphasizes that seeking and discerning the truth is of critical importance, and that believing lies is the most dangerous thing you can do. You’ll be challenged to become a more careful student of the past, seeking accurate, factual accounts of events that illuminate choices our world faces now. By considering how the Nazi German regime was able to carry out over eleven million institutional killings between 1933 and 1945, Andrews advocates for an informed population that demands honesty and integrity from its leaders and from each other. This short, thought-provoking book poses questions like: What happens to a society in which truth is absent? How are we supposed to tell the difference between the “good guys" and the “bad guys”? How does the answer to this question affect our country, families, faith, and values? Does it matter that millions of ordinary citizens aren't participating in the decisions that shape the future of our country? Which is more dangerous: politicians with ill intent, or the too-trusting population that allows such people to lead them? This is a wake-up call: we must become informed, passionate citizens or suffer the consequences of our own ignorance and apathy. We can no longer measure a leader’s worth by the yardsticks provided by the left or the right. Instead, we must use an unchanging standard: the pure, unvarnished truth.

A Book For Everyone Who Cares About ChildrenThe CrisisThe problem of overweight children has reached an epidemic level- More than 30% of American children are overweight; at least 15% are obese- Due to poor nutrition and lack of exercise, millions more are at risk- According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, "Overweight is now the most common medical condition of childhood"- The physical, psychological, and economic consequences of this epidemic are staggeringThe SolutionThis informative, motivational, and practical book reveals:- How to objectively assess a child?s weight- The 10 leading causes of overweight children- The consequences of poor nutrition and sedentary lifestyles- The myths and facts about nutrition, exercise, and weight loss- A step-by-step plan for helping children develop lifelong habits of good nutrition and physical fitnessOffered as a motivational and practical guidebook, We're Killing Our Kids enable parents, grandparents, educators, and other concerned adults to help children develop lifelong habits of healthy eating and physical fitness.

This is not a biography of John Harvey Sorrells. I expect there'll never be one of those, and that's probably just as well. Sometimes I think a writer's work is his own best autobiography, certainly, and as much biography as he needs. But I'm doing this because of two things: one simple, the other far from it. My late oldest brother, John, sent me a couple of boxes back in 1993 chock-a-block with manuscript and newspaper printed "stuff" written by our father. I looked through it quickly and was intrigued right away, but didn't have the time to do anything with it. Over a period of about a year I managed to root around considerably more--along with my son, daughter, and wife--and eventually I knew I'd have to mess with it in a much more formal and intentional way. But that was the simple part: reading all the material; lifting this bit from here and combining it with that shard from there to create a whole that didn't injure the narra-tive; deciding to stick with the newspaperman's spellings of words like thru, and cigaret, along with standard newspaper punctuation; deciding how to include not just the "best" stuff, but the typical as well. All that simply comes with the turf of editing someone else's material. The much harder part, though, was the realization that I was in some ways on a fool's errand. My father died about five weeks before his fifty-second birthday. At the time, we were living in New York City. That is, my parents were. I was the youngest of four children; fifteen; and, with my older brother, Bill, a high school student in Virginia. In spite of its rampant self-absorption, crudities, cynicisms, vulgarities, and erupting juices of sexuality, fifteen is a tender age. Maybe vulnerable is more accurate. In any event, it's an age when a boy--even a boy/man--really needs his father. It's a fragile time, because the boy coming into manhood is coming into a period when he's just about ready to start knowing his father as another man, as a person, as a human being, as a wonderfully imperfect critter he can love in a way that transcends the boy/Dad relationship. It's always going to be father/son, but when the two are adults, that relationship changes, deepens, transforms. At least, that's what I've seen and heard from those who got to go through it, and as I've experienced it from the father side with my own son. But I was suddenly and unexpectedly cut off from that chance. One night my father was alive, sitting at a card table in the living room reading, as I recall my mother telling it--likely a mystery novel--in the apartment in New York, when he got bushwhacked by a massive heart attack. My mother, who was in their bedroom in the rear of the apartment, said she heard some-thing fall. Hurrying out to see what had happened, she found him on the floor. She knelt by him and said he kept looking up at her asking, "What's wrong? What's wrong?" as though something had happened to her. Within five minutes he was dead. What these days might be called a lack of "closure" absolutely overwhelmed me, and one way or another I have been looking for my father ever since. One way or another his wrenching disappearance has informed virtually everything I myself have ever written. So when I saw the mass of stuff in those boxes my brother sent me, I was againcon-sciously for the first time in years--on the gossamer trail of my father, hoping to find out some-thing, trying to learn something, circling like a dog before she flops, anxious to discover some-hing that would do . . . what? Easy: It would let me know my father just as though he hadn't died when I was a boy; just as though he hadn't been a-moldering in a Graceland Cemetery grave in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, for more than forty-five years. . . . While all that was going on, another part of me was looking at the stuff, fascinated by the man's insights, intrigued with how his mind worked, embarrassed by his p