37 Amazing new books to add to your spring reading list electricity physics problems


Binnie Kirshenbaum’s Rabbits for Food — her first novel in 10 years — is a burst of energy, following a middle-aged woman’s mental breakdown and subsequent electricity generation efficiency hospitalization. The aftermath is often hilarious. Our narrator examines her surroundings — the eccentric patients and doctors, the absurd daily activities, the Kafkaesque system — with a blunt and biting wit gas vs electric water heater that leaves little room for sentimentality. It might make her seem plain mean, if she weren’t also directing that judgment at herself.

Favorite passage: Although she cannot bring herself to say so in these words, Bunny is suffering from depression. In reference to herself the inherent theatricality of the verb to suffer embarrasses her. In this context, to suffer, she believes, would be melodramatic and self-aggrandizing, not to mention rendering her a person empathetically stunted when you consider real gas used in ww1 suffering like starving to death or stage four colon cancer or a baby rhesus monkey given a wire coat hanger to cling to instead of a mother.

G. Willow Wilson’s sprawling, fantastical novel takes place during the reign of the last sultan of Muslim Iberia, focusing on a concubine named Fatima k electric company and her best friend Hassan. The two have a dangerous secret — Hassan, the palace mapmaker, can draw maps that bend reality — and when Fatima accidentally reveals this to a woman from the newly formed Spanish monarchy, she puts her and Hassan’s lives at risk. Wilson describes their escape from the palace and their subsequent gas z factor journey through the country — trying to elude the Inquisition with the help of a wry jinn — with heart and humor, weaving in an ongoing exploration of the meaning and value of freedom.

Favorite passage: When she was a child, everyone in the gas stoichiometry formula palace wanted to touch her, from cooks to kings: they all marveled at the profound color of her eyes, the evenness of her complexion, yet they joked with each other about taming her hair and her temper a gas mixture is made by combining. It rendered all their praise suspect: even compliments were infuriating. […] Her beauty was indivisible from her anger.

Adam Ehrlich Sachs’s The Organs of Sense is layers-deep. At its core it’s a story of a 1666 encounter between a young Gottfried Leibniz and a blind astronomer who makes the unlikely prediction of a solar eclipse electricity prices by country, but it’s also about the astronomer’s magical history, as relayed to Leibniz. These nested stories — about art and reality gas in oil mower, genius and insanity, fathers and sons — drive the narrative, and are encapsulated by the narrator’s own recounting of the three-hour encounter, referring frequently to Leibniz’s later writings on their meeting. It is at once a pitch-perfect send-up of an overwrought philosophical tract and a philosophical tract in its own right — meaty, hilarious, and a brilliant examination of intangible and utterly human mysteries.

Favorite passage: Bad thinkers, I include incidentally Kepler and Tycho and Galileo in this category, and also Copernicus c gastritis im antrum, start over here and end up over there, and the farther apart here and there are the better they think they’ve thought, and the louder the world claps, as if they’re children in a jumping competition, because the world thinks thinking is a kind of jumping … but true thinking is actually an elaborate standing-still, or at most a going-over-there followed by a coming-back-here o gastroenterologista cuida do que.