Culture

By asking people on social media to define the term

"I think women's bodies are a battleground and photography is partly to blame"

Keira Knightley recently posed topless in Interview Magazine as her own personal protest against photoshopping. Knightley told The Times she demanded the (not safe for work) photos be unedited so people could see what she really looked like.

“I’ve had my body manipulated so many different times for so many different reasons, whether it’s paparazzi photographers or for film posters,” Knightley said. “That [shoot] was one of the ones where I said: ‘OK, I’m fine doing the topless shot so long as you don’t make them any bigger or retouch.’ Because it does feel important to say it really doesn’t matter what shape you are.”

READ: This Is What the Same Woman Looks Like Photoshopped in Different Countries

Knightley’s figure was controversially distorted on the poster for King Arthur in 2004: Her breasts were edited to look bigger than they are in real life. Though the studio bore the brunt of that scandal, the actress herself came under fire in 2006 when she and Scarlett Johansson posed nude with a fully clothed Tom Ford on the cover of Vanity Fair, in a picture that emphasized the gap the demands made of famous women and men in terms of playing up their sexuality. (Rachel McAdams reportedly skipped the shoot after realizing the women would be asked to pose in the buff.)

But Knightley is taking a stand now. The Interview shoot captures Knightley’s real figure—including her true breast size. “I think women’s bodies are a battleground and photography is partly to blame,” the Imitation Game actress told The Times. “Our society is so photographic now, it becomes more difficult to see all of those different varieties of shape.”

READ: Not-So-Flawless: Lorde Protests Photoshopping

That’s just one of many candid truths 29-year-old Knightley has been preaching on her current press tour. This month, she also told Net-a-Porter that she’s annoyed as a feminist that most movies reflect only what middle-aged white men want and identify with. She has turned down many a role because she thought she was being asked to do things male actors are never asked to do—specifically gratuitous sex and violence. “It’s actually a difficult question: how much flesh are you meant to bare?” she said. “We’re saying that we should be sexually liberated but then again not that sexually liberated. It’s confusing.”

She added that she long ago left fairy tales behind: “Why should you wait for some f–king dude to rescue you?”

Amen.

Read next: Keira Knightley: Love Actually Is the Greatest Movie Ever Made

Hatshepsut, a woman who was Egypt’s king, serves as a model and cautionary tale for today’s female politicians

This November, nearly 200 women ran for Congress. Most didn’t win. Of the 535 representatives and senators currently serving, only 99 — 18.5 percent — are women. Why are there so few women in positions of power in this modern age?

One way to answer that question is through the story of the greatest woman ever to rule in the ancient world — an Egyptian pharaoh.

In Egypt in the 15^th century B.C., women were considered sexual companions and the carriers of men’s seed—not rulers. But Hatshepsut found her way to the throne of the richest and most powerful state in the ancient world. Then, a mere 25 years after her death, ruling elites had her statues smashed into bits.

I wrote my book about Hatshepsut, The Woman Who Would Be King, after the birth of my son. Motherhood made me realize, as I never had before, how trapped women are by our bodies. Hatshepsut must have felt the same kind of entrapment after she gave birth to the child of her half-brother, the king, while still in her early teens. That child was a girl, not the son for whom her people had hoped. But Hatshepsut’s lack of a son laid the foundation for the rest of her strange, charmed life.

Hatshepsut’s husband passed away after only three years of rule, when Hatshepsut was very young, perhaps 16. At the time, the next in line to be king of Egypt was a mere infant—not her own baby, but a baby belonging to one of her husband’s second-class wives.

Hatshepsut had the power to fill this vacuum. Her bloodline was impeccable, back to kings of the earlier 18^th Dynasty. She had an education, likely begun in early childhood. Not only was she the highest-ranking royal wife, but also she was Egypt’s most powerful priestess.

Hatshepsut made sure the young king — that infant son of a lesser wife — was educated, brought up in the temple mysteries, and trained in the military arts. But since he was so small, Hatshepsut took charge.

So it was Hatshepsut who gave the vizier — the king’s second-in-command — orders about trading ventures to the land of Punt, who discussed treasury matters with her royal steward, and who put down insurrections in Kerma (in modern-day Sudan). She personally oversaw the collection of the spoils of war, according to a tomb inscription written by her overseer of the treasury.

Then, for reasons that were not recorded, Hatshepsut was given — or decided she needed — more. When the young King Thutmose III was just 8 or 9, Hatshepsut was crowned king alongside him, with the full support of her courtiers, Egypt’s elite families, and its powerful temple priesthoods. Hatshepsut became a king — because ancient Egypt had no word for a female ruler.

She won this prize because she was the most able person for the job. Hatshepsut also built a strong cohort of supporters — men whose continued prosperity depended on her power.

When Thutmose III was approaching his 16^th year, she tried another strategy to retain power. In statuary, in reliefs, maybe even in rituals before her elites and populace — she took on the appearance of a man. She bound her breasts; she wore a masculine kilt; she tied on the long beard of kings. She was ostensibly past childbearing years, which meant that she would never bear her own heir to the throne, and her co-king was quickly becoming a man. She had to stay ahead of him.

Historians have given many explanations for Hatshepsut’s power plays — an unreasonable greed and lust for influence being chief among them. But she actually helped Thutmose III’s position by keeping him by her side. Thutmose III accompanied her on campaigns to Kush, presumably participating in the battles, the dispatch of enemies and the taking of spoils. The investment paid off: Thutmose III became the greatest warrior king Egypt had ever seen.

The history of her reign became troublesome as Thutmose III was grooming his chosen son to be next in line. The possibility of another woman taking the throne was a complication he decided to erase. So down went the statues and the first layer of the temple reliefs.

We’ve come a long way since the 15^th century B.C., but what’s interesting is how much remains the same.

Kara Cooney is associate professor of Egyptian art and architecture at the University of California at Los Angeles. She wrote this for Zocalo Public Square.

Whether you’re in high-turnout Sweden or low-turnout L.A., the task of getting people to participate must be a constant, year-round focus of attention, not just an issue of concern at election time

I did not receive the warmest welcome from my colleagues four years ago, at my very first meeting of the Falun Election Commission. In fact, most members of the authority in Falun, the Swedish city of 57,000 where I live, were surprised I had called a meeting at all.

“What is this all about?” a colleague asked me. “The next elections are in four years and we had just an election with a great turnout. The only thing we are elected to do is administer the next elections.”

My colleague had a point. The Swedish law makes clear the election commission’s job is to administer election, full stop. And participation in the 2010 local, regional and national elections here in Sweden—which are held together at the same time—was terrific. Turnout of those eligible to vote was 82 percent.

That may sound like another world entirely to people in the U.S. where I’m visiting this week in part to observe preparations for Tuesday’s elections. I know that many places in the country, including California, where I’m writing this, are experiencing record low turnout.

But I also know this: Whether you’re in high-turnout Sweden or low-turnout L.A., the task of getting people to participate must be a constant, year-round focus of attention, not just an issue of concern at election time. Conventional wisdom is that turnout is beyond the control of election organizers. I’d suggest—after spending the past four years trying to raise turnout for the 2014 elections—that election administrators can make the difference.

I’m highly sensitive to the issues of participation because democracy is such a big part of my life. I’m a professional journalist for Swiss radio who covers a lot of elections around Europe and the world. I’ve been an official observer of elections (my co-observer President Jimmy Carter failed to show up when we were paired recently as observers of Taiwanese elections). And I vote in two different countries because I’m a citizen of Sweden and Switzerland, as well as the European Union.

In all these contexts, I’ve seen that the places with the greatest participation do not necessarily have the most media coverage and campaign materials demanding that people show up at the polls. The places that improve participation tend to be places where regular people connect with politics and make collective decisions all the time, not just in election season.

How to create these connections? You need to strengthen existing institutions—and build new ones—that encourage active citizenship year-round.

In Falun, I wanted to take advantage of new initiative and referendum rights in Sweden and Europe to try to boost participation. After that first uncomfortable meeting, my colleagues decided that the role of our local government was to make sure that people understood these new rights and how to use them.

But it wasn’t enough to just notify people. My colleagues on the commission insisted on a test of our work in what came to be called a “supersized participation challenge.” All of our work between elections would be measured by whether or not voting participation increased.

One of our first ideas was to develop and distribute a “Democracy Passport” to every citizen; We made an extra effort to get it into the hands of first-time voters. The passport is the size and shape of a national passport, and it described all the political powers that Falun citizens have and all the forums where they have the right to weigh in—at the city, state, country and European Union level. The passport explains which levels of government do what, as well as what you can do to influence the government.

We also opened a “Democracy Center” at our public library, offering a free public space for democratic information, education, and dialogue. We hired a full-time “Democracy Navigator,” whose job was to assist individual citizens and groups to make their voices heard. Finally we started to renew the city’s online services, incorporating modern forms of transparency and citizen interaction.

We did all of this with the agreement of each of the nine political parties in the city parliament, which consists of 61 members. Our message was a paradigm shift: We need to move away from the idea that citizens are just consumers of political programs and parties and start seeing them as direct participants in the community. In this, we had a distinct advantage: Sweden’s long history of democracy has generated significant trust in public institutions.

After three years of work (in which I also chaired another public body, the Falun Democracy Council, which did related work), we reached the “months of truth” this year. Elections for the European Union parliament were held in May, and then the joint elections for local, regional and national Swedish parliaments were held in September.

Determined to boost participation, we made use of our very generous voting regulations—we permit early voting, voting by mail, and even second voting. What’s second voting? People who voted early can go to a polling station on Election Day and change their vote in person; When people do this, the vote in the polling station is accepted and the advance vote declared invalid.

We also have automatic voter registration—you don’t have to sign up yourself. And we have been aggressive in making sure that voters who were not born in Sweden but have lived here for three years (non-citizens with residency can vote in local and regional elections) are on the rolls. We organized meetings with Somali-Swedish women, translated the Democracy Passport into Arabic, and invited new voters to participate in walks we organized and staffed with interpreters to the offices of elected officials, political parties and interest groups.

In the end, we met the supersizing challenge. At the European elections in May—elections where turnout has been lowest in Sweden—we boosted turnout from 45 percent to 54 percent, among the highest in Sweden.

And in the mid-September elections, we went from 82 percent to 87 percent. That’s healthy, of course. But it’s not good enough. We’re already planning for the next elections, and thinking about how to invest more in our democratic infrastructure.

Bruno Kaufmann, a journalist and election commissioner in Falun, Sweden, is founder of People2Power, a publication on democracy. He wrote this for Zocalo Public Square.

The debate over revelations in Dunham's memoir is not just about the propriety of a child's sexual curiosity. It’s about women who make us uncomfortable.

What we can learn from "Falling Man"

This article originally appeared on Patheos.

The past few days have been filled with news that terminally ill 29-year-old, Brittany Maynard, has ended her life with medication prescribed by her physician. She did so under legal physician assisted suicide provisions in the state of Oregon. Had Maynard not taken the medication, she would not have lived much longer, and the final moments of her life would likely have been painfully debilitating, as her brain cancer took over.

In the weeks leading up to her death, Maynard succeeded in not only completing her “bucket list” but also in sparking a national discussion on “death with dignity,” or what is commonly called physician assisted suicide.

Admittedly, I thought the matter was settled in my mind before Brittany’s story became a daily topic. Until Brittany I was absolutely, positively against the idea that physician assisted suicide should be legal. However—and here’s another of Brittany’s accomplishments these past few weeks—I don’t feel the way I did a few weeks ago.

Part of my shift has been because of the discussion and reasoning that came from Brittany herself, and part has been from some of the judgmental condemnation I’ve seen of Brittany online—judgmental attitudes that caused me to re-think my association with that side of the issue. However, the real shift in my thinking came from sitting in my rocking chair next to my wood stove late in the evening, watching a program about iconic photography from the terrorist attacks of 9-11.

One of the most recognized images from the terrorist attacks is an image that has been called “The Falling Man” by Richard Drew, and I’m sure you probably recognize it. The image is of an unidentified man who was trapped on one of the upper levels of the Trade Center, and ultimately made the decision to jump to his death instead of being burned alive or suffocated by smoke.

I can’t imagine making that choice. I’ve tried, but I can’t.

There are no exact numbers, but some have estimated that upwards of 200 people made that difficult choice—choosing to jump instead of dying by fire or smoke.

On one hand, one could say these people took their own lives—that they committed suicide—but that wouldn’t really be fair, would it? NYC officials didn’t think so either, and had their deaths classified as homicide by blunt force trauma instead of suicide. A spokesman for the NYC medical examiners office stated:

“Jumping indicates a choice, and these people did not have that choice,” she said. “That is why the deaths were ruled homicide, because the actions of other people caused them to die…”

The Falling Man, and others like him, didn’t have a real choice to live or die—they only had a choice in which way they died: smoke and fire, or by falling. For their children to have to walk through life saying, “my dad committed suicide” is less than fair and completely untrue—they didn’t choose to die (the very definition of suicide), they just chose how they died.

This is precisely why I’m losing my patience with my fellow Christians who are condemning Brittany Maynard for her decision to take the pills her doctor prescribed her. Brittany didn’t wake up one morning and say “I hate my life and I’m going to kill myself,” just like those who jumped on 9-11 didn’t step up to the ledge and jump because they were in debt or trapped in a bad marriage.

It seems disingenuous to force someone to choose between two ways of dying and then turn on them in judgement for picking the least painful of the two options.

Like the 9-11 jumpers, Brittany didn’t have a choice in dying, she only had a choice in how she died. You see, there are people like Brittany—terminally ill with imminent death looming—who are essentially trapped in a burning building from which there is no way of escaping with their lives. For some of these people, the idea of being burned alive or having to inhale smoke until death overcomes them becomes less appealing than stepping up to the ledge and accepting a quicker, less painful fate.

In all the years since 9-11, I’ve never once heard a Christian speak up in judgement and condemnation over the 9-11 jumpers. I’ve never heard someone say they sinned because they “hastened death instead of accepting God’s timing.” I’ve never heard anyone say that failing to condemn their choice is a “slippery slope that could send the message that suicide is okay.” All I’ve ever heard about the 9-11 jumpers is how difficult their choice must have been, and how sad it is that their lives were taken by terrorism.

Why then, should we say those things about Brittany—or those who choose to die more quickly and less painfully in response to a terminal disease—a death sentence that becomes their burning building? It’s not a choice to die (suicide). It’s just a choice to pick the most painless way to die.

Christians should be the people who are the least judgmental and the most compassionate—the ones who recognize the truth that while the 9-11 jumpers didn’t commit suicide, Brittany Maynard didn’t, either.

She died because of terminal cancer, and that is very, very sad.

Benjamin L. Corey, is an Anabaptist author, speaker, and blogger. His first book, Undiluted: Rediscovering the Radical Message of Jesus, is available now at your local bookstore.

Read more from Patheos:

• Brittany Maynard: What Does Hinduism Teach about the Right to Die?
• Brittany Maynard and Lauren Hill: Contrasting Views on Death
• Why Do These Christians Say Brittany Maynard Is Now in Hell?

No word yet on a Bill Murray-themed roller coaster

It happens every time: The credits roll on another Wes Anderson movie, and the curtains close on the whimsical universe he’s created. You’re ejected from the symmetrical, 1970s-colored trance of his movie sets into the cold reality of an asymmetrical, 2014-colored world. But talk of a theme park masterminded by Anderson and long-time collaborator Mark Mothersbaugh, co-founder of the new wave band Devo, hints at the possibility of a real-life counterpart to these fictional worlds.

In the foreward to Mark Mothersbaugh: Myopia, a new book by Denver Museum of Contemporary Art Director Adam Lerner, Anderson describes the vision: “It will include hundreds of animatronic characters and creatures, rides through vast invented landscapes and buildings, extensive galleries of textiles and sculptures, plus an ongoing original music score piped-in everywhere.”

But Anderson will play the role facilitator rather than chief visionary; the theme park is intended to be “conceived and designed entirely” by Mothersbaugh. The pair has enjoyed a long working relationship, with Mothersbaugh scoring many of Anderson’s movies (Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou). And Mothersbaugh is an accomplished visual artist in his own right, having worked in a variety of visual media since before co-founding Devo.

A glimpse inside Myopia offers a testament to a diverse array of influences, from pop art to punk, on Mothersbaugh’s self-described “particular brand of fear/enthusiasm for this flawed creature called Homo sapiens.” And though a theme park based on this vision seems a far cry from Disneyworld, Anderson’s promise that “the visitor will be amused and frightened, often simultaneously,” suggests that the two might not be so different, after all.

Should it come to fruition, the theme park will be located in Mothersbaugh’s birthplace of Akron, Ohio.

TIME gets inside the mind of a man who will attempt to walk a tightrope across the Windy City's skyline, on live TV

On Nov. 2, Nik Wallenda will try to outdo the feats that seven generations of his daredevil family have done: the scion of the Flying Wallendas will walk a tightrope across the Chicago skyline, up an incline for half of the stunt and wearing a blindfold for the other.

This is the Discovery Channel’s latest bid to capture the world’s attention with live broadcasts of life-or-death events (like April’s planned ascent and wing-suit jump off Mount Everest that was derailed by a tragic avalanche). And this is Wallenda’s follow-up to dramatic tightrope crossings over Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon in recent years. Doing something ever-more daring, he says, is the way to be successful in the daredevilry business.

Wallenda will start his walk on a wire 588 feet above the Chicago River. First, he’ll traverse an incline the length of about two city blocks from one skyscraper to another, ending at a height of 671 feet—making it the highest balancing act in his family’s history and his steepest walk ever. From the second skyscraper, Wallenda will don a blindfold and walk a level wire 543 feet above the ground to his third and final pillar of safety.

TIME spoke with Wallenda about why he chose Chicago, what makes him risk his life and what he hopes viewers get out of watching him on TV or Discovery’s live stream.

TIME: Growing up in the Wallenda family, did you feel you had a choice about whether to join the act?

Wallenda: I actually felt like my parents did everything they could to get me out of the business. In fact, I know they did. I was going to study to become a pediatrician, because the business had struggled financially and my parents were having trouble making ends meet. And they wanted me to have nothing to do with it.

Why did you decide to do it anyway?

I started at such a young age. My uncle called me when I was getting ready to go away to college and asked if I wanted to be part of recreating the seven-person pyramid in Detroit, Mich. And I talked my parents into allowing me to do it, and when I got there, I realized there was an amazing opportunity. We just needed to change the direction of our business and we could be successful in it. I had struggled with going to college because I had so much passion for what I did, performing. I started walking a wire when I was 2. So that was really a turning point, the revelation that we just needed to change our business model.

Is that business model now centered on record-breaking?

It’s centered on continuing to keep the name in the spotlight. My great-grandfather did an incredible job of that, creating the seven-person pyramid and doing many amazing walks around the world. And continuing to keep his name in the spotlight. Really, that’s what it was about, never being complacent but continuing to push on and move forward.

And how will this feat be pushing yourself in a new way than all the feats you’ve done before?

In two ways. One is I’ve never walked up an inclined cable. I’ll be walking up a 15-degree incline for this event, which is extremely strenuous. It changes your center of gravity and how you balance and everything in that sense. In the second portion, doing it blindfolded, which is something I didn’t even realize was possible until a few years back when I started training, taking away that most important sense, which is vision as a wire-walker. It is definitely the most challenging walk I’ve ever done.

Once you have that blindfold on, how do you mentally and physically change your approach to staying on the wire?

Mentally, it’s the biggest challenge of all. I’ve done this so long, muscle memory sets in. That’s why I can do it. But mentally, overcoming those fears is my biggest challenge in life, for sure. Putting myself in a place of confidence, knowing that I can do it. Training in really tough conditions makes me confident that I’ll be able to do it over the city of Chicago.

Why did you choose Chicago, rather than, say, New York or San Francisco?

All of those are on my radar, for sure. Chicago’s something I’ve worked on for a while. My sister lived there for 13 or 14 years. I spent a lot of time in that city. I was absolutely attracted to the name the title the “Windy City.” And it worked out where Chicago was able to give us approval. We were able to get the buildings to approve and all of that. So that’s why Chicago’s next. I’m working on many more.

When you’re getting these approvals, whether it’s the mayor of the city or the owner of a building, what are their hesitations?

For the most part, there’s not a lot of hesitation. Of course they’re all worried about my safety. But I think I have an amazing track record of eight world records, as well as walking over Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon. And of course that builds confidence in them. In the end, the media attention from around the world is only positive for the city. This special will air live in over 220 countries around the world. The visitors’ bureau can’t afford a commercial like that, for two hours long. I don’t think anyone in this world can afford to pay for a commercial like that. So it’s definitely great for them, just like it was for Niagara Falls … Of course, as a building owner, they’re concerned with liability. What if something happens? And really more than anything concerned about the safety of their building, which is where [all the] engineers come in.

As you said in the beginning, they’re concerned about your safety. Is there a scenario in which you fall and it’s not a good commercial for them?

I don’t know. You look at NASCAR, and people dying on occasion, and it doesn’t hurt their sport. That’s for sure. They still have every endorsee you could ever imagine. I don’t know for sure if it would be good or bad. My great-grandfather lost his life in Puerto Rico. And it surely didn’t hurt tourism in Puerto Rico. Would you say I’m never going to go to Chicago because Nik Wallenda fell there? I don’t think you would. So no, I don’t think it is a bad for them. Of course, I’m all about staying on top of that wire.

Obviously the commercial value is not the important factor if that terrible outcome happens. As much as you can imagine what you might be thinking if you did fall, would you have any regrets?

I don’t think so. I’ve lived an amazing life, and continue to live every day like it’s my last. And I think everybody should live that way. Of course, some of my training is about staying on that wire, and catching that wire, and holding on for 20 minutes. I’ve got redundant rescue plans within 90 seconds. It’s not as though I get up there carelessly. There’s a lot more science and engineering that goes into it than you could ever imagine.

Why do you want to do this and what do hope people get out of watching it?

Everything I do I hope inspires–actually, I know inspires many people. Maybe not all of them. But I hope to inspire people to continue to push themselves to become better at what they do. This walk is all about continuing to push myself to not become complacent but continue to work harder, move forward and become better at what I do. And I hope to inspire people that no matter what their challenges are, if they’re willing to work hard enough, they’ll be able to accomplish whatever their dreams are in life. Mine just happens to be a little more unique than most.

Is there an element of this, like soldiers going back into battle or thrill-seekers, that you just can’t live without, an energy from performing daredevil feats like this?

I’m not your average daredevil. I’m definitely not an adrenaline junkie. I certainly love my wife and my three kids more than anything in life. And if they asked me to stop tomorrow, I would. If they asked me not to do the Chicago walk today, I would not do it. So that’s not my life. My family’s done this for over 200 years. I’ve done it since before I was born. My mom was six months pregnant with me on the wire. I’ve walked the wire my whole life. And it may be hard to comprehend, but this is life to me. It’s not an occupation. It is not a job. Very seldom in my career do I get a rush out of what I do. It’s about the love and passion for what I do.

Rogerson is the author of Rogerson's Book of Numbers.

It may be devilish to some, but it can also mean 'things go smoothly'

Saint John saw the beast “rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy,” which seems to fit temptingly close to the old Phoenician-Canaanite myth of a sea monster Lord of Caos (Yam/Lotan) coming up out of the deep to do battle with a hero god like Baal/Hadad. In amongst the complex imagery of John’s Book of Revelations, some commentators have argued that the seven-headed beast also represents the seven Roman emperors who had been responsible for the degradation of the Temple, the destruction of Jerusalem and the persecution of Judaism and its heretical offshoot – early Christianity. Counting back from John’s contemporary, Domitian, these seven emperors would be Titus, Vespasian, Nero, Claudius, Caligula,Tiberius and Augustus.

But it is the 666 number that most resonates, the numerical value Saint John ascribes as the mark of the beast: “Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore-and-six.” This hint at numerological coding allows (with different values given to each letters) that 666 would seem to identify ‘Nero Caesar’ when written in Hebrew (it was Nero who organized the first popular pogrom against the Christians after the great fire of Rome). 666 is also the number created when you list – or add – the first six symbols of the Roman numeral notation together, as in D (500), C (100), L (50), X (10),V (5) and I (1).

[But] in Chinese, 666 is a tonal equivalent for ‘things go smoothly’ and a favored number. It also has an alliance with the roulette table, as the sum of all the numbers on the wheel.

Excerpt from Rogerson’s Book of Numbers: The Culture of Numbers from 1,001 Nights to the Seven Wonders of the World by Barnaby Rogerson. Rogerson’s Book of Numbers copyright © 2013 by Barnaby Rogerson. First U.S. Edition Published October 28, 2014, by Picador USA. All rights reserved.