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In this expansive book of essays, the author of How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia takes us deep into his world spanning New York, London, and Pakistan. Hamid explores the intersection of life, art, and politics in an age of increasing globalization, making for a unique, thought-provoking collection. Books mentioned in this post [...]

Fifteen writers have been working as contributors for the “Bookends” column at The New York Times. All of them have revealed the titles that gave them “their favorite reading experience of 2014.” Below, we’ve collected free samples of most of the books on the list for your reading pleasure.
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New Career Opportunities Daily: The best jobs in media.

Over at The Atlantic, Pakistani novelist Mohsin Hamid discussed one of his “all-time favorite passages in literature,” a quote from the Japanese author Haruki Murakami.

Talking about his own journey as a writer, Murakami explained: “writing a long novel is like survival training. Physical strength is as necessary as artistic sensitivity.”

If you want to get in shape this year, we found some free fitness apps for writers to help you feel better as you write. Also check out our how to write like Haruki Murakami post, taking writing wisdom from his epic novel, 1Q84.

New Career Opportunities Daily: The best jobs in media.

Yesterday I was asking an American book blogger if, following a week spent hanging out with UK publishers, she could see any major differences between publishers in the US and those over here. "Yep," she said, "depression." In the US apparently, "morale is low" and there is a feeling that the publishing of fiction, in particular, is ailing. If the internet hasn't won already, it is believed, major damage has been inflicted on non-web based forms of entertainment.

Previous posts here, here, here and here for example, have considered that while the internet might indeed be transforming the cultural landscape, it's not yet time to roll over and die. Yes, the game is changing, but we still want to be players, still believe that there is a market for quality fiction, and still think that if you tell an interesting enough story, whatever the medium, it will be read.

Over the last 5 weeks nearly 150,000 people have read the digital fictions we've presented at We Tell Stories, and with the release of this week's installment this incursion into web-based fiction is coming to an end. We've learnt lots of things along the way. We've discovered that our authors are interested in new challenges and have enjoyed writing outside their comfort zones. That game designers are as interested in strong narrative as book editors. That there is an interest and an audience for new ways of telling stories. That we shouldn't be frightened of the internet, but instead should critically examine the possibilities it presents to create new forms of narrative, new audiences and new opportunities for our authors and their work.

We Tell Stories has been a great project to work on, but the challenge now is to learn from and take forward some of the ideas that have been raised and use this platform to make further, bolder online incursions. Being a publisher is not just about selling and distributing books, it's about selling and distributing stories and ideas, and these can take many forms.

As Mohsin Hamid writes, 'There are always at least two ways to tell a story.' The game is afoot...

Jeremy Ettinghausen, Digital Publisher

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I wish I could include my second graders in this picture, but I'm not sure if their parents would want their picture on the internet.

By the way, that's Serjio's arm, and Starfall, the best reading site on the Internet on the monitor behind me. Everybody at school, every teacher, aide, and student signed the banner.

As a celebration, two teachers at my school decorated my room after I left late on October 1st. They ended up calling my husband to get me out of there.

On the morning of the 2nd, I wasn't really thinking about HUNGRY as much as I was feeling overwhelmed by teaching: the needs the kids have and the expectations put on schools. I'm working with a very bright 4th grade reading group who are below grade level for a variety of causes: reading disabilities, second languages, difficulty focusing, and, for a few, home issues.

I love this group. They're good thinkers and sweet kids, but they need me to go slow. They need repetition and lots and lots of practice on skills. I'm a believer in using data to inform instruction, and I'm not against standards. I just want the expectations to be reasonable. When I was in fourth grade, I didn't have to write a summary on bonsai (a release writing prompt for the 4th grade state writing test). My parents wouldn't have known bonsia from bubble gum. Thinking back on the type of 4th grader I was, I wonder if I could have easily describe the art of growing bonsai. I'm sure my lack of background knowledge would have reflected in my writing performance.

I'm not saying, don't teach kids how to write! But what this group needs more than anything else is to get a good solid understanding of SENTENCE construction, which we work on daily. I want them to write decent paragraphs by the end of 4th grade (which they are still shaky about the details-- like not starting each sentence on a new line), and if all of them succeed I'll be doing the happy teacher dance. But I'm concerned for March when they have to take the test, that as far as they'll come as writers may not be far enough.

So, October 2nd, I got to school feeling heavy and worried and grumpy. Gail Marshall said she needed something from my room and hung around as I dawdled getting my lunch into the refrigerator in the teachers' room and then spent more time running off work for later in the day. On the way across the quad to my room, we talked about how as a teacher one can work 24/7, and it's still wouldn't be enough to do everything. We talked about how it was only October and that we were already tired.

I unlocked my door and was met with a banner, flowers, balloons, and silly string. Oh, there was chocolate. Lots of it. Gail had come with me to see my reaction. I'm still smiling as I write this, almost two weeks later. The surprise went straight to my heart and burst open the dark crystal of frustration that had gotten lodged there. Thank you, Gail. (And Brandy, her partner in chocolate.)