Stupid, stupid, I fucking know better; cops down in Baltimore broke a man’s spine for making eye contact. You will embody a city of millions. When he wakes he doesn’t reach for me, but he doesn’t push me away either. No one will see it except people in planes angling toward LaGuardia from the southwest, a few tourists who take helicopter tours, and NYPD aerial surveillance. Fuck yeah, it answers, filthy and fierce. Daddy would’ve said it was okay—tears mean you’re alive—but Daddy’s dead. I’ve never seen him eat. Sticky, sort of, threads of cheap-shit gum fucking up my mirrors. The Lake. You can pose questions to the Goodreads community with Reader Q&A, or ask your favorite author a question with Ask the Author. Dead. You need not be them, but know that they are part of you.”, I laugh. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald Book Discussion Questions Nick 1. This is a shock, for it has not been truly hurt in centuries. Discuss the reliability of Nick Carraway as the narrator of The Great Gatsby. Ancient Babylon was a profoundly religious city, known for its use of spiritistic “spells” and “sorceries.” ( Isaiah 47: 1, 12, 13; Jeremiah 50: 1, 2, 38 ) In fact, false religion in opposition to the true God, Jehovah, was practiced there. And as the firmament ripples, slides, tears, the Enemy writhes up from the deeps with a reality-bridging roar—. . You don’t want to die.”, I stand up, stretch, feel the streets around me grow longer and more pliable in the rising heat of day. It’s fucking mine. I use his shower and eat some of the food in his fridge without asking, just to see what he’ll do. Watch the clip and reflect on the following questions: Videos with Discussion Questions | Online Resources That’s why. Mexico City’s well on its way. I know that he glimpses what I am, too, all the bright light and bluster of me. He can tell I don’t wanna talk anymore, so he gets up and goes to bed. A big, heavy gust of moist air tickles the hairs on my skin. That shit ain’t no part of me, chico.”, “The city chose you, out of all,” Paulo says. I’m so busy cussing them out in my head that I forget they can also be dangerous: Somebody yells and grabs my arm as I Heisman past, and I hear a man yell out, “He tried to take her purse!” as I wrench away. I just don’t give a shit. And then I turn to glare at him. I thought everyone could.” He pauses. I brace my feet and they are girders, anchors, bedrock. The car is mine; I’m rich now. I can hear sirens on the streets of the neighborhood—frequent, close. I jump into the air and whoop for joy, and I don’t even know why. “Meet me back here on Thursday.”, I pick up the twenty, finger it, pocket it. Too many arms, too many legs, too many eyes, and all of them fixed on me. Affordable land and leasing costs, abundant fresh water, an educated workforce, low business costs and easy access to financing, technical assistance and efficient transportation have helped local businesses succeed and grow. Everything is shaking, blurring. He can kiss my ass if he doesn’t understand. I play casual till I reach the corner and book it, or try. . . Many City services have adjusted hours or locations and may require health screens prior to entering their physical spaces. Swiss cheese! You can pose questions to the Goodreads community with . “Fuck you. “Yes. Then I shower the Enemy with a one-two punch of Long Island radiation and Gowanus toxic waste, which burn it like acid. . “Dramatic irony is a relationship of contrast between a character’s limited understanding of his or her situation in some particular moment of the unfolding action and what the audience, at the same instant, understands the character’s situation actually to be.” Good. Please call ahead or visit any department's website to get additional details, or visit chicago.gov/covid-19. "The Great Gatsby" is American author F. Scott Fitzgerald's most famous novel. Swing right. What good does it do to be valuable, if nobody values you? The inner quality of pureness and beauty is lost to the chaotic machine. The effect happens in the world, Paulo has said. My city is helpless, unborn as yet, and Paulo ain’t here to protect me. . From its inception in 2008, The Girly Book Club (GBC) now has over 120,000 members in 15 countries and 125 communities across the globe! He’s listening, now. It’s been so long. Not sure how I know now. If your comment does not eventually appear please review our Moderation Policy carefully before posting again. And more, many more, all of them watching, waiting to see if their numbers increase. Or do they just not give a shit because they can’t shake it down for city revenue? (He adopted the pseudonym Le Corbusier in 1920.) Paulo wasn’t shitting me. Or maybe those are the rumblers of police sirens? Its sewers extend into places where there is no need for water. Question about The City We Became: “Is this going to be based on The City Born Great short story? . If nothing else, they will bear witness that I, we, were great for one shining moment. The (unnamed) protagonist struggles to help New York to 'breathe' and be 'born', with the help of a man named Paulo, who apparently personifies the city of Sao Paulo. I’m really singing to the cityscape beyond. Alexander the Great was born in the city of Pella in this kingdom in 356 B.C. It’s a bright, clear day, not a cloud in the sky. Until cold prickles skitter over my side. something. He opens one eye as I stand there gagging and purses his lips in a judgy way, like he could do better dry-heaves in his sleep. I stand on the rooftop of a building I don’t live in and spread my arms and tighten my middle and yell nonsense ululations at the construction site that blocks my view. Deep in the night, on a rooftop in Chinatown, with a spray can for each hand and a bucket of drywall paint that somebody left outside after doing up their living room in lilac, I move in scuttling, crablike swirls. The city is breathing easier,” he says. Paulo ignores my suggestion. In this standalone short story by N. K. Jemisin, author of The Fifth Season, the winner of this year’s Hugo Award for Best Novel, New York City is about to go through a few changes. All comments must meet the community standards outlined in Tor.com's Moderation Policy or be subject to moderation. City safety regulations are so lax; terrible, terrible.) São Paulo squats nearest, its roots stretching all the way to the bones of dead Machu Picchu, watching sagely and twitching a little with the memory of its own relatively recent traumatic birth. Death of a Red Heroine discussion questions. My protector, in this unreal space of dream, is a sprawling jewel with filth-crusted facets, a thing that stinks of dark coffee and the bruised grass of a futebol pitch and traffic noise and familiar cigarette smoke. Here are some questions that will help get you started. Oh shit oh shit oh shit please no. . Still, it has a library’s safety, so I sit in a corner and read everything within reach: municipal tax law, Birds of the Hudson Valley, What to Expect When You’re Expecting a City Baby: NYC Edition. Comments must first be approved and published by the moderators before they appear on the site. Nobody cares if you stay all day as long as you’re not eyeballing the kids’ corner or trying to hit up porn on the computers. Back when I was in school, there was an artist who came in on Fridays to give us free lessons in perspective and lighting and other shit that white people go to art school to learn. Thinks he’s got my number. The people in the cafe are eyeballing him because he’s something not-white by their standards, but they can’t tell what. The city . . On Second, Sixth, and Eighth avenues, my water breaks. But I’m still hungry and tired all the time, scared all the time, never safe. Let them fucking shoot me. If you’re looking for other great parenting resources, subscribe to Focus … And from even farther, I hear something else: a dissonant, gathering growl. Oh, now you’re crying! . You’re doing good, baby. It isn’t that I’m not listening. He’s also eyeballing me, and not in the way I’m used to. Discussion Questions . (None of this is quite real. Maybe. I raise my arms and avenues leap. I grow bigger, encompassing. Stockbroker racquetball and schoolboy handball, ballet and merengue, union halls and SoHo galleries. It sent forth its harbingers and they have failed, but its taint is in the city now, spreading with every car that passes over every now-microscopic iota of the Mega Cop’s substance, and this creates a foothold. I need to open up this throat. Forty-Seventh and my legs are molten granite. Behind me, the Mega Cop utters a wet, tumid hough, like it’s clearing its throat for swallowing. We go forth to find this city’s singer, and hopefully to hear the greatness of its birthing song. Gotta be careful here; there’s a lot of dumb-fuck Chinese kids west of Chrystie Street who wanna pretend to be a gang, protecting their territory, so I keep low. The drywall stuff I can’t use too much of; it’ll start flaking off after a couple of rains. I need somewhere to sleep. We become! I reach out and grip the railing of the bridge before me and feel the steady, strong pulse that runs through it. I go, over the barrier and through the grass into fucking hell I go one lane silver car two lanes horns horns horns three lanes SEMI WHAT’S A FUCKING SEMI DOING ON THE FDR IT’S TOO TALL YOU STUPID UPSTATE HICK screaming four lanes GREEN TAXI screaming Smart Car hahaha cute five lanes moving truck six lanes and the blue Lexus actually brushes up against my clothes as it blares past screaming screaming screaming, screaming metal and tires as reality stretches, and nothing stops for the Mega Cop; it does not belong here and the FDR is an artery, vital with the movement of nutrients and strength and attitude and adrenaline, the cars are white blood cells and the thing is an irritant, an infection, an invader to whom the city gives no consideration and no quarter. “Right,” I say, biting into the egg sandwich and damn near wetting myself. I stumble over to a garbage can and think about throwing up into it. I backhand its ass with Hoboken, raining the drunk rage of ten thousand dudebros down on it like the hammer of God. They’re warm, in the winter. In this standalone short story by N. K. Jemisin, author of The Fifth Season, the winner of this year’s Hugo Award for Best Novel, New York City is about to go through a few changes. . I don’t stink, but these people can smell anybody without a trust fund from a mile away. Popular Categories View All. So he gets to his feet and leads me away for my first real lesson. Here are some discussion questions and topics to help create interaction in your youth group. Discuss the reliability of Nick Carraway as the narrator of The Great Gatsby. Did your thoughts about him change as you read through the drama? I gotta look out for self, same as always. There’s only a tinge of gray at his temples, nice and distinguished, but he feels, like, a hundred. The person is coming who will make it live and stand and thrive in the ancient way . I know what it is before I react, but I’m careless again because I turn to look . Jeopardy Questions. It screams again in pain and disgust, but Fuck you, you don’t belong here, this city is mine, get out! The artist guy brought a model for us to draw once, and pointed to this little ridge of muscle above the hips called Apollo’s Belt. Toward me. Got change for a wash-and-dry, just not another pair of pants to wear till they’re done. It lashes back in a fury, faster than I can block, and from a place that most of the city cannot see, a skyscraper-long tentacle curls out of nowhere to smash into New York Harbor. the shit? The ground jolts and people think, Huh, subway’s really shaky today.) Researchers have learned a great deal about the nature-nurture dynamic by working with animals. . This is the lesson: Great cities are like any other living things, being born and maturing and wearying and dying in their turn. Use paragraph form. https://www.pbs.org/thestoryofindia/teachers/discussion/video fuck those. . It’s all here, just like Paulo said. There are others here with me, looming, watching—my ancestors’ bones under Wall Street, my predecessors’ blood ground into the benches of Christopher Park. Stand witness. I curb stomp it with the full might of Queens and something inside the beast breaks and bleeds iridescence all over creation. “I didn’t believe it either, at first. I mean, listen, but not to me.” He gets up, tosses a twenty onto the table—which isn’t necessary, because he paid for the sandwich and the coffee at the counter, and this cafe doesn’t do table service. Not till I’ve finished going AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaa (breath) aaaaAAAAaaaaaaa and listening to the syllable echo back at me from every nearby building face. The city’ll figure it out. The East River, if I survive. I wiggle under his covers. How the fuck did I get here? Warning the enemy that it must adhere to the rules of engagement that have always governed this ancient battle. Ask the Author. . Shit, the UN’s coming up; I don’t need the Secret Service or whatever on me, too. I am its worthy avatar, and together? I’ve found that the best book club discussion questions are ones that are open-ended and that get people to share their personal opinions. Maybe he’s always seen it, but there is admiration in his gaze now, and I like it. Bitch, I ain’t took shit, I think, but it’s too late. The Enemy uses this anchor to drag itself up from the dark toward the world, toward the warmth and light, toward the defiance that is me, toward the burgeoning wholeness that is my city. 21 Questions to ask when moderating your next panel discussion. It’s just somebody’s summer sublet in the Lower East Side, but it feels like a home. I’m doing that thing I do, trying to shunt off their gaze—but it feels different this time. If you’re ready to start a book club , here’s 40 of the best book club questions, for fiction and nonfiction alike. To me. I’d been hearing breathing all my life. I imagine mirrors around my head, a rotating cylinder of them that causes his gaze to bounce away. He blinks, then actually looks annoyed. If not, what is it that they represent? Terrible mess, gonna fuck up the evening commute. First Samuel 15:5 refers to the city of Amalek. “I had forgotten,” he says, in a faint wondering tone. “Have you heard it yet?”. I don’t say it aloud, but Paulo sees me twitching. Are you always struggling to come up with book club questions to help guide your group discussion? Learn more. Pretty soon there’s nothing left of it but half-real smears on the asphalt. They idle along the wrong side of the sidewalk, stopping to look at maps and take pictures of shit nobody else gives a fuck about. Video of Peter Senge: Are Great Leaders Born or Made? (Is that really happening, or am I imagining it, or is it happening and I’m imagining that it’s connected to me somehow?) “Yeah,” I say, and take another bite of my sandwich. . Book Club Discussion Questions - This page gives you a full list of all the books featured on this site, split between fiction and non fiction. And I am too weak, too helpless, too immobilized by fear, to do anything but twitch beneath its predatory gaze. I stumble into the room where Paulo is sleeping. The cop car can’t come after me against the traffic, but it’s not like that’ll stop some doubled-cop monster. In  this standalone short story by N. K. Jemisin, author of The Fifth Season, the winner of this year’s Hugo Award  for Best Novel, New York City is about to go through a few changes. But great conversation questions can get the ball rolling. To drive this lesson home I cut the bitch with LIRR traffic, long vicious honking lines; and to stretch out its pain I salt these wounds with the memory of a bus ride to LaGuardia and back. Sort of coy. like black holes, maybe. What does it suggest about human behavior and the tragic fate of human individuals? It thrives and it is mine. I’m even freaked out enough to try swimming in that fucking sewage. He sits forward. . . Look back, because the city is squirming around me, the concrete is jittering and heaving, everything from the bedrock to the rooftop bars is trying its damnedest to tell me to go. But I’ll sing and paint and dance and fuck and cry the city before I’m done, because it’s mine. There’s a soft, strange sound as I lay down the last streak of black. 5 Questions. “Tell me what to do.”. The pain is nothing; this ain’t my first rodeo. But it is too late. I collapse onto a square of grass, breathless, shaking, wheezing, and can only stare as a dozen limbs are crushed, two dozen eyes squashed flat, a mouth that is mostly gums riven from jaw to palate. In 1977, the American Nazi Party tried to stage a demonstration in Skokie, Illinois, home to many Holocaust survivors. I spend the next two days going all over the city, drawing breathing-holes everywhere, till my paint runs out. I loved that story and can not wait to have this in my hands! Duh, right? He says, “It’s time,” and rolls over to put his back to me. If you do not help. But the separation starts a process, and in that pocket the many parts of the city begin to multiply and differentiate. Paris observes with distant disinterest, mildly offended that any city of our tasteless upstart land has managed this transition; Lagos exults to see a new fellow who knows the hustle, the hype, the fight. You can pose questions to the Goodreads community with Reader Q&A, or ask your favorite author a question with Ask the Author. . Spray paint’s better for everything, but I like the contrast of the two textures—liquid black on rough lilac, red edging the black. Welcome back. I hook left onto Second Avenue. well, whatever the fuck a living, thinking entity shaped like a big-ass city wants to do. I’m the midwife, see. I cross the street and risk a look back and see something roll onto the sidewalk on at least eight legs, using three or four arms to push itself off a building as it careens a little . But as I spot these two on the corner opposite the library steps—short pale man and tall dark woman both in blue like black—I notice something that actually breaks my fear because it’s so strange. The City Born Great A Tor.com Original (eBook) : Jemisin, N. K. : In this standalone short story by N. K. Jemisin, author of The Fifth Season , winner of the Hugo Award for Best Novel, New York City is about to go through a few changes. The rest’ll have to wait till I get condoms and he brushes his ashy-ass mouth. Is this that heart attack? On the recommendation of BESW, I recently read the short story "The City Born Great" by N.K. Huh. Except this guy had done that, and he was black. Thank you for keeping the discussion, and our community, civil and respectful. There used to be a couple of great cities on this continent, but that was before Columbus fucked the Indians’ shit up, so we had to start over. For more historic film news, interviews, and special discounts, subscribe to the Flicker Alley Newsletter. His eyes are huge, and I think, I could get away with so much shit if I had permanent puppy eyes like that. How does Nick 's non- Death and life of Great American Cites discussion questions already for! 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