Now that no-maj is a thing.
Warner Bros.
Warner Bros.
1. Non-Wizards
2. Wiz-Withouts
3. Uncools
4. Lack-Magics
5. Normals
6. No-Wizs
7. No-Magic-Heres
Not every treasure chest contains treasure. Sometimes it’s ghosts. Or several child-sized spiders.
Thanks for the help, Fred and George.
EA Games / Via vforum.vn
EA Games / Via old-games.com
EA Games / Via youtube.com
HARRYSUPERJUMP
HARRYGETSFULLHEALTH
EA Games / Via tampire.tumblr.com
“The only way to escape the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” — Alaska Young, Looking for Alaska
Submitted by urooja
Summit Entertainment
2. "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it."
-- Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables
Submitted by Matt Cormier, Facebook
3. "Maybe greatness isn't about being immortal, or glorious, or popular - it's about choosing to fight for the greater good of the world, even when the world's turned its back on you."
-- Alex Bailey, The Land Of Stories
Submitted by Breigha Hughes, Facebook
4. "Yes, I know about pain and darkness. Sometimes I go so far into the darkness that I'm scared I'll not get out again. But I do get out, and I do begin to burn again."
-- Erin Law, Heaven Eyes
Submitted by erenah
Submitted by Emma Neishloss, Facebook
Warner Bros.
Seven Stories Press
Sex is a Funny Word is nothing short of revolutionary. Cory Silverberg and Fiona Smyth's newest book is brilliant in its approach to giving caregivers and educators the tools they need to talk to kids about their bodies. Not only is it "the first trans-inclusive book for kids," but it also uses inclusionary language and diverse representation across race, ability, gender, and sexuality, to hone in on the most important aspects of discussing sex and bodies with kids aged 8-12. It is the second in a trilogy of books – the first, What Makes a Baby, is a beautiful, balanced, and many-gendered explanation of baby-making for kids aged 5-8.
(While Sex is a Funny Word discusses body parts, gender, touch, and other topics related to the word “sex,” it doesn’t delve into reproduction — intercourse is being reserved for the third book, planned for release in fall 2017, which will be geared toward older kids.)
Although I could have made this a list of the 7,000 things that Sex is a Funny Word does to revolutionize talking to kids about their bodies, out of respect for everyone's time I’ve narrowed it down to ten. It was really hard to do.
Seven Stories Press
Small bodies, large bodies, disabled bodies, many colored bodies, pointy bodies, curvy bodies, wrinkled bodies, all the bodies are illustrated and present throughout every page of Sex is a Funny Word… in the same way that all of these bodies exist among each other in actual, real life!
Though representation of many bodies shouldn’t be revolutionary, most of our media – children’s books included – showcases white, thin bodies in ways that are often ableist, sexist, homophobic, and trans-exclusive. In this way (and many others), Silverberg and Smyth’s contribution to the dialogue is revolutionary: finally young people have a way to see all bodies (including their own body) represented. Yes.
Seven Stories Press
Kids pick up on the nuanced way that adults speak about sex, sexuality, bodies, and gender. Which means when those adults avoid talking about certain topics (or particular body parts), kids notice. When adults withhold information, kids wonder why. Often, they assume that these avoidances occur because something about those particular body parts or feelings or questions are wrong or bad.
Sex is a Funny Word talks to kids about their parts, their feelings, and their questions in an honest and matter-of-fact manner. What’s more, the authors also address the fact that grown-ups sometimes avoid these topics, but assure kids that this isn’t because there is something wrong with any part of them.
Seven Stories Press
Silverberg and Smyth are committed to showcasing gender as much more than a binary system from the very first page of the book – the table of contents points to the chapter on gender under the heading “Boys, Girls, All of Us.”
Silverberg told BuzzFeed News, “Most of the progressive sex education books that are available actively exclude gender nonconformity and trans kids. They do that simply by saying that there’s only two things: there’s boys and girls, and boys have penises and girls have vulvas, and that’s the story. So they don’t say that it’s bad to be trans, but it just doesn’t exist anywhere.”
Seven Stories Press
While Sex is a Funny Word is certainly a book that kids can devour on their own, adults are highly encouraged to participate in the conversation. There is a message in the introduction specifically for caregivers and educators that encourages them to read the book before giving it to the child – better preparing them for the conversations and questions that will certainly follow. It goes on to explain, “We’ve provided the framework and basic information about bodies, gender, and touch, and we’ve left blanks that only you and the kids in your life can fill in.”
While this book is an important tool in helping kids better understand themselves, talking with family members and loved ones about that understanding is necessary — not to mention powerful. Kids listen and learn from the people they care about more than anyone (or anything) else in their lives!
Seven Stories Press
Bodies exist in the world in many ways, and not all bodies are afforded the same rights and the same protections as others. Silverberg and Smyth understand and contend with that reality, because – aha! – kids have bodies, and rights, too.
{Image p 29, "Justice means that every person and every body matters."}
What happens when young people are able to talk about their bodies and understand them in a social justice context from a young age? My theory: Incredibly important awareness, and a foundation for speaking up for equality far into the future.
Seven Stories Press
Kids, just like anyone else, deserve privacy — but oftentimes, they are made to feel that nothing, not even a quiet space, is theirs for the taking. What’s more (and this goes back to the “private parts” vs “middle parts” illustration above), requests for privacy are sometimes met with suspicion, especially where kids are concerned. The truth is that even young kids may want to keep certain spaces or feelings to themselves. When conversations happen around privacy, it can lift a lot of the shame that young people feel when they do want their own space, and allow them to better explore and understand themselves, their bodies, and their feelings.
Seven Stories Press
Each and every person (children included) has different ways that they like, and don’t like, to be touched. Silverberg and Smyth tackle consent in age-appropriate ways, explaining that sometimes we may want to be touched, and other times we may not want to be touched. Using a hug as an example, they also explain that while sometimes we may want a hug at first, we may feel like we don’t want one later… and it is always okay to say so.
This conversation around consent happens in the chapter on “touch,” which then goes on to talk about “secret touching,” or sexual abuse. Silverberg told BuzzFeed News, “I knew we needed to deal with sexual abuse in the book because often sexual education books don’t do that. That makes no sense to me, because it’s part of people’s reality. One of the really painful and complicated realizations I came to early on when I was writing this was that a lot of kids who read this book will have already experienced sexual abuse. We never write books for those kids. The only books that are written for those kids are dark, scary books about sexual abuse… I want those kids to pick up this book and find themselves in it.”
Seven Stories Press
As you might imagine in a book that has already included many genders, many body types, and all-around inclusion of multiple identities, Sex is a Funny Word also showcases several renderings of what a family might look like, and also leaves room for many sexualities in its “crushes” section.
Again and again, on literally every page, Silverberg and Smyth reinforce that all sexualities are valid, all bodies are beautiful, and all identities deserve a space (within this book, and within the world at large!).
More often than not, we tell kids that they don’t understand their feelings – or, even worse, that we as adults understand their feelings more than they do. Validating a child’s experience of their own body and their own identity allows them to explore those feelings, and establish a healthy relationship with themselves and those around them. Beyond this, the authors also touch on how the perceptions (and assumptions) of others are not always in line with the way we experience ourselves.
There may be no more powerful message than allowing kids to trust their feelings, and giving them the confidence to share those feelings with those close to them.
Above and beyond anything else, this book – every last page of it – is made for kids. While it exists as an incredible tool for caregivers and educators, it puts the experience of young people at its core and validates their feelings, ever-shifting and growing as they are, at every turn. It encourages questions, it gives a voice to those whose voices are often silenced or hidden, it acknowledges experiences that can be confusing or scary, and it tells the truth, 100% of the time.
“I’m moved by it all the time,” Silverberg says. “I still sometimes cry when I read these books – in nice ways, and sometimes in not nice ways. Sometimes I cry because I wish that I had these books when I was growing up.”
Seven Stories Press
Better than a glass slipper.
Get it for £7 from Etsy.
Procrastinate away.
Siddharth Sengupta and Arjun Jassal's brilliant semi-autobiographical series deals with the emotions every young Indian feels when they leave home.
Do you often find yourself in the throes of a quarter-life crisis, wondering what it even means to be human? Here, stop for a minute and have a good laugh.
Sreejita Biswas A.K.A. Solo's webcomic combines psychedelic art with some pretty compelling thoughts. It also helps if you believe in aliens.
Cartoonist Rohan Chak uses his skills to remind us that it's high time we take wildlife and nature conversation seriously.
“Amazon just convinced us to divorce our wife then married her.”
I mean, small indies still had to compete with national chains, but it was a bricks-and-mortar war.
Stephen Brashear / Getty Images
Publishers and bookstores were slow to jump on the whole dotcom thing, preferring to sell books face to face.
Warner Bros.
It worked, and today the company is worth $295 billion.
Amazon
In the UK, 33% of independent bookstores have closed in the past decade, while in the US there has been an increase in independent bookshops in recent years but hundreds of Borders and Barnes & Noble locations have shut down.
Warner Bros.
Dreams really do come true.
U.N. Women Goodwill Ambassador (and renown badass) Emma Watson interviewed Nobel Prize laureate (also a renown badass) Malala Yousafzai at the Into Film Festival yesterday.
"Today I met Malala. She was giving, utterly graceful, compelling and intelligent," Watson said in a Facebook post. "That might sound obvious but I was struck by this even more in person. She has the strength of her convictions coupled with the kind of determination I rarely encounter... And it doesn't seem to have been diminished by the success she has already had."
Qurtuba Publishing House is aiming to change the narrative for Muslim-Canadians. And here’s everything you need to know.
They hope to tell and publish stories that are "relevant issues to Muslims today," their website states.
NO-MAJ?
Warner Bros.
Warner Bros.
Julian Finney / Getty Images
“No measure of time with you will be long enough, but we’ll start with forever.”
The following is excerpted from the new reprint of My Misspent Youth, a collection of essays originally published in 2001.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
Why can’t book publishing be the way it is in books?
Why can’t book publishing be the way it is in books? Where are those heady nights on Beekman Place, those working days on lower Fifth, those underpaid trust-fund girls with the clacking Smith Coronas and the clicking low-heeled pumps from I. Miller? Where are Bennet Cerf’s entrepreneurial seeds, Maxwell Perkins’ worshipful authors, Mary McCarthy’s well-read bedfellows? Where are the editorial assistants lunching frenetically at the Oyster Bar counter? Where are the pneumatic tubes running directly from Vassar and Smith to Viking and Scribners, sucking young English majors down their chambers and depositing them at chewed, wooden desks with tins of lemon drops in the top drawers and manuscripts towering over the “In” boxes? Alas, lament entry-levelers everywhere, the '30s are gone. So are the '40s, '50s, '60s, and '70s for that matter.
There comes a time for every aspiring book publisher when she recognizes that her career, though inspired by Mary McCarthy’s, will not resemble it. After a few weeks steeped in proposals for self-help books or unauthorized biographies of cable-access television stars, she realizes that there is no longer a May Day parade, The Nation is not a publication immediately accessible to 22-year-old English majors seeking reviewer positions, two-bedroom apartments on Jane Street are out of the single girl’s price range, and Webster Hall is no longer filled with the literati but with drag queens. There comes a point when she notices that although she studied Homer, Austen, and Melville, she will not be publishing them. There are a few hold-outs from the “literary” camp, to be sure, (the assistant may find herself remarking on the fact that here, in the world of books “literature” is considered a category as specific as “how to” or “occult”), but there seems to be a disproportionate number of Oprah bios, guides to better sexual relationships, and Near-Death Experience books, slugged for those on the inside as N.D.E. “A new N.D.E. title,” screams the publisher, dollar signs glowing in her contact lenses. “Isn’t this to die for?” To the publisher, N.D.E. means big excitement and big bucks. To the assistant it can also stand for “not doing editing,” or “not drinking enough.”
I’ve had a number of different editorial assistant jobs. Some of these were on high floors of Midtown office buildings, stale and plasticy smelling, the kinds of places where employees fight to assert their identities by tacking Polaroids of boyfriends and cats on their cubicle walls. Others were sweet and arty, housed in the sort of loft-like office where the Mia Farrow character in a Woody Allen film always seems to work. Still another office was so mouse infested that I found myself not just tapping but actually stomping my feet underneath my desk for hours at a stretch; it seemed the moment I stopped, a rodent would make its way from the floor to an open desk drawer, wherein I would later fish around for a pen and instead discover something that made me actually weep in disgust and then yearn for a career in investment banking.
For the editorial assistant, every day is a new near-death experience.
For the editorial assistant, every day is a new near-death experience. As if “going toward the light,” we chase after what literature there is, trying, at least in the beginning, to discover the genius in the slush pile who’s going to elevate us from entry-level minion to the up-and-comer with the brilliant eye. Our job entails pretty much what it sounds like: assisting editors. We open our editors’ mail and log in the submissions. We keep track of flap copy and back-cover blurbs. We notice when a typo appears on a jacket mock-up—there’s a fine line between Prozac Nation and Prosaic Notion. We request contracts, fill out invoices, and, mostly, answer the phone again and again. “Candy Whatzit’s office,” we say. “Jillian Dazzlewitz’s line,” and then, when our personal line rings with the promise of a friend on the other end or even an author whose manuscript is sufficiently unhot that we might actually acquire it ourselves, we answer obediently, with the name of the company, blurted unintelligibly because four other lines are on hold. As all editorial assistants know, it is not acceptable to pick up the phone and deliver a simple “hello.” This is a trapping of the editorially privileged, of those with more than one linen blazer and their own offices with radiators upon which cardboard-mounted book jackets are gleamingly displayed. I spent quite a lot of time in my editorial-assistant days dreaming about when I’d be able to answer with a “hello.” I even experimented with it intermittently, pulling it out like a pair of torn jeans on casual Fridays. “Hello,” I’d say, with faux nonchalance at 7:30 in the evening after everyone had left. This usually resulted in the person hanging up, or my mother’s voice emerging on the other end, insisting that such lack of professionalism surely wasn’t going to result in a promotion any time soon.
We’re secretaries fully versed in Derrida, receptionists who have read Proust in French.
So it’s all in the phone greeting, the banter with authors and agents, the art of raising the pitch of our voices when we call the accounting department to ask what happened to that check for the $100,000 advance because the “author is desperately poor and the agent is ballistic.” (The truth is that we discovered the check request under a pile of magazines on our desk two months after we were supposed to process it.) But the voice will fix everything. It rises when we’re covering up our clerical errors, drops to sultry depths when we’re schmoozing or gossiping or ordering a decaf cap (with skim milk) from the deli around the corner. We’re secretaries fully versed in Derrida, receptionists who have read Proust in French. This is a land of girls. There are always at least ten of “us” for every one of “him.” We’ve got decent shoes. We’ve got B.A.s in English from fancy schools, expensive haircuts, expensive bags, and cheap everything else. We’ve got the studio apartment with the half-eaten 100-calorie yogurt in the mini-fridge. We’ve got one message flashing on the answering machine (it’s Mom again), bad TV reception, and a pile of manuscripts to read before bedtime. We’ve got an annual take-home of $18,000 before taxes if we’re lucky, a $100 deductible on the health insurance, which is useful about one year into the job when we reach that milestone of entering therapy (inspired by the books we’re working on), when we have to remind ourselves that getting out of bed every morning is mandatory rather than optional, when we realize that the phrase “there’s a lot of writing involved” as it pertains to a job is subject to interpretation.
This is a land of girls. There are always at least ten of “us” for every one of “him.”
Like all legends, the glamour of publishing that we read about in McCarthy’s Intellectual Memoirs or Mary Cantwell’s Manhattan, When I Was Young is likely to be shattered somewhere around the first anniversary of assistantship. Though our heroines were no doubt just as burdened by this age-old indentured servitude as we are, there’s something in the retelling, in the breezy we-can-laugh-about-it-now quality of such memoirs that today’s editorial slaves find confusing. It’s as if a sepia tint has been imposed onto a thoroughly fluorescent-lit world. Unlike our predecessors, we find ourselves spending considerably more lunch hours waiting in line at Ess-a-Bagel than sitting at the counter at the Oyster Bar. We realize that we’re spending a significant amount of office time changing the fax paper, chasing down botched contracts, and writing flap copy for Thin Thighs in Three Seconds rather than inhabiting a publishing world like the one Dan Wakefield evoked in his memoir New York in the Fifties, where “the booze ran freely and the talk was always funny, sharp, knowing, dealing with what we cared about most — books, magazines, stories, the words and the people who wrote them.”
To the dewy eye of the editorial assistant, there is something about this mythos — the stiff patent leathers tromping around Madison Square, the particular literary drunkenness that seemed obtainable only from the taps of the White Horse Tavern, where Dylan Thomas met the shot glass that killed him — that feels lost, abandoned in nostalgia’s inevitable recycling bin. Instead, there are lunches eaten while hunched over a plastic container of tri-colored pasta salad from the Korean deli. There are hundreds of hours spent at the copy machine duplicating manuscripts, thousands of phone messages scrawled on carbon message pads, and a few attempts to raise our salaries to something resembling at least the annual tuition fee of the college we attended (not including the cost of books). Nonetheless we persevere, dreaming of the day when we’ll become an assistant editor, and wondering how we’ll survive the ensuing years until that fabled associate editor position is dangled before our eyes. If we make it this far without ditching the whole thing and going back to school for yet another graduate degree, we, too, could be the star editor responsible for the true story of Howard Stern’s near-death experience. A savory thought, yet one that, like the devil, threatens to drag us down by the sharp lapels of our Burberry raincoats. It’s a good thing we don’t own any. We can’t afford them. Besides, they’re not as timeless as they once were.
***
Meghan Daum is the author of four books, most recently the collection of original essays The Unspeakable: And Other Subjects of Discussion, which won the 2015 PEN Center USA Award for creative nonfiction. She is also the editor of the New York Times best-seller Selfish, Shallow & Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on the Decision Not To Have Kids. Her other books include the essay collection My Misspent Youth, the novel The Quality of Life Report, and Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived In That House, a memoir. Since 2005, Meghan has been an opinion columnist at The Los Angeles Times, covering cultural and political topics. Meghan has written for numerous magazines, including The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, The Atlantic, and Vogue. She is the recipient of a 2015 Guggenheim Fellowship and is an adjunct associate professor in the M.F.A. Writing Program at Columbia University's School of the Arts.
Excerpted from My Misspent Youth. To learn more, click here.
Picador
*Disappears with phone for months*
What it costs: Free (iOS & Android)
What it offers: A community of 40 million readers to interact with; a database of 1.1 billion books to track and review; a social feed to see what your friends are reading and loving; and a fun, streamlined way of organizing and celebrating your literary life. If you aren't on Goodreads, what are you even doing? (For Windows Phone users, Epiphany and Social Reads are unofficial apps that use the Goodreads API.)
Spencer Platt / Getty Images
Earlier this year, as Donald Trump began noisily flirting with a 2016 presidential bid, a flurry of Trump-related book ideas began circulating among Manhattan publishing types. There was the writer who wanted to produce an ironic collection of Trump's most outlandish quotes; the conservative journalist promising unparalleled access for a campaign hagiography; the other conservative journalist ready to rush a quickie anti-Trump polemic to the presses.
And, finally, there was Trump's own political manifesto — Trumpily titled, Crippled America: How To Make America Great Again — which was released this week to much fanfare by Simon & Schuster.
With its celebrity author currently topping 2016 polls and generating nonstop media attention with his vaudevillian White House bid, the book seems destined for bestseller status. But despite the potential for a publishing bonanza, Crippled America is the only new Trump-centric title to have hit the shelves so far this year. One reason? The book industry — like the political press — largely dismissed Trump's campaign at the outset as a short-lived publicity stunt that would be over before they had time to cash in.
Now that The Donald has proven them wrong, the haters and losers of the professional literati are left kicking themselves.
"I think everybody in political publishing had been burned too many times by [authors] who were at their high when they sold their books and then had fizzled by the time the books came out," said one editor. "A lot of people thought this was a Michele Bachmann or Herman Cain situation."
Indeed, the graveyard of the publishing industry is littered with money-losing political books that were tanked by bad timing, like the 2012 memoir that fetched Marco Rubio an $800,000 advance at a time when pundits were predicting he would be Mitt Romney's running mate — and then flatlined in sales once he didn't make it on the ticket. Given The Donald's well-documented record of toying with presidential bids and then abandoning them, book editors were especially wary of placing big bets on 2016-themed Trump-lit.
The first of this year's ill-fated Trump projects was conceived during a backstage interview with conservative Daily Mail journalist David Martosko at the Iowa Freedom Summit in January. Trump's attempts to stoke 2016 buzz at the conservative confab that day had elicited mostly eye-rolls from the incredulous reporters in attendance — but Martosko believed he was serious this time. Spotting a ground-floor investment opportunity, the reporter proposed that Trump collaborate with him on a campaign book, according to two sources familiar with the conversation.
Trump liked the idea, and Martosko — a former editor at The Daily Caller who declined to comment for this story — spent the following weeks negotiating with the billionaire's aides and pitching the project to publishers. One concept was a collection of high-octane interviews with Trump on various political subjects; another was an authorized inside account of Trump's early campaign, tentatively titled, Three Weeks With The Donald.
On its face, bidding on the proposal might have seemed like a no-brainer for publishers. As one source who was supportive of the project put it, "Donald Trump is an ATM with eyes and a mouth."
But the reception Martosko received from editors earlier this year was often muted and hesitant. One editor said he passed on the book because he didn't believe Trump would actually run. Another source said the standard lead time in the publishing industry — even if accelerated to warp speed — seemed unlikely to produce a topical book before Trump inevitably flamed out of the race.
"Look, it's February, and by April this is all gonna be over and we're gonna be on the hook for a contracted book with a big advance," said one source familiar with Martosko's project, summing up the initial reluctance by publishers.
Martosko, who has conducted nearly a dozen interviews with Trump, did generate some interest from editors, but they said any book contract would be contingent on a commitment of cooperation from The Donald — and that never materialized. After much back-and-forth, Trump eventually informed Martosko that he had decided not to do a campaign book at all, reasoning that he already had world-beating name recognition and didn't need to bother.
It was only a matter of weeks, however, before Trump reversed that decision, and by summer he was peddling his own political book to publishers. Even with Trump surging in the national polls at that point, the proposal was still met with some skepticism from the publishing world.
Said one editor, "Probably any publisher would have taken that swing gladly at some level — just not for the amount [of money] Trump's agent was asking."
The agent in question was Byrd Leavell, a unique fixture in the New York literary scene whose impeccably lowbrow client roster includes the raunchy bro-bait blogger Tucker Max; the creators of the website Total Frat Move; socialite-cum-"pillhead" memoirist Cat Marnell; and a young Maryland woman who went viral after emailing a profanity-laced tirade to her sorority sisters. Leavell does not typically traffic in presidential politics: He is best known in the industry for his tendency to trawl on the web, and then successfully repurpose the most controversial content into bestselling books. He's had some hits — the adaptation of the popular "Shit My Dad Says" Twitter account sold more than a million copies — and some misses, such as a widely panned book by the author of Twitter's Goldman Sachs Elevator account. But Leavell's gleeful anti-elitism made him a natural fit for Trump.
In a 2013 interview, Leavell described the philosophy that animates his search for literary talent. "There's a number of books that have pubbed that just say, you know, I had too many drinks, I banged him, I kicked him out of bed, and I went to work," he mused. "Like, it's out there, but I think there's room for more."
Trump's new book is light on such first-person tales of debauchery, but compared to the stodgy, sanitized memoirs of his Republican rivals, Crippled America — with its politically incorrect title and glowering cover photo — is similarly defiant of genre conventions. And Leavell was the perfect agent to get it sold.
Leavell declined an interview request and wouldn't respond to questions about the size of Trump's advance (though he did say in an email that the candidate planned to donate the money). One source close to Trump speculated that he was aiming for something in the ballpark of Hillary Clinton's rumored $14 million contract — so that he could boast about the comparison in a general election face-off. "He really does think that way," the source said. Others in publishing circles said Trump's advance was likely closer to low-end seven figures.
Meanwhile, the industry's scramble to catch up and cash in on Trump-mania continues. Editors described a number of books at various stages of fruition, including a novelty collection of Trump's most outrageous utterances, and new editions of old biographies and books about The Donald.
Kevin Williamson — a National Review correspondent whose vicious report on Trump's campaign kickoff earlier this year was headlined "Witless Ape Rides Escalator" — churned out a short paperback over the course of ten days in September, which will be published by a small conservative imprint this month under the title, The Case Against Trump.
Williamson said he and his editor both held off for a while before committing to the book, because they assumed — and hoped — that Trump would fade. Eventually, they had to come to terms with reality.
"Frankly, I would have rather Trump exited the race quickly and I not write the book," Williamson said, adding, "I think he'll probably sell a few more copies than I do."
50% off Starbucks is a beautiful thing.
Accurate.
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27 Alternate Names For Muggles Now That No-Maj Is A Thing