Should the tent be burning like that? A professional amateur's guide to the outdoors

CUBA ON THE VERGE Edited by Leila Guerriero. (Ecco, $26.99.) Twelve writers explore this moment of transition in a post-Castro Cuba, as it manifests in music, art and even baseball, the landmark julius caesar Edited by Kurt A. Raaflaub. (Pantheon, $50.) This tome brings together all the written works of the statesman and military commander, ft's mostly a series of accounts of wars he waged, from the Gallic War to the African War, which turned the Roman republic into an empire, should the tent be burning like that? By Bill Heavey. (Atlantic Monthly, $25.) A suburban dad who loves hunting and fishing, Heavey has been writing a column for Field & Stream for over two decades, and this collection ranges from a deer archery hunt to the time he crashed a 44-foot houseboat in Florida. Christopher hitchens: the last interview (Melville House, $15.99.) The always provocative Christopher Hitchens died six years ago, but his presence can still be felt. As part of its "Last Interview" series, Melville House pulls together some of Hitchens's greatest dialogues, each sparkling with intelligence and wit. three daughters of eve By Elif Shafak. (Bloomsbury, $27.) Shafak's novel takes place over the course of a dinner party in Istanbul on a night when terrorist attacks occur across the city. Through her main character, a wealthy socialite, Shafak, one of Turkey's most acclaimed authors, explores the many tensions that exist in a society struggling toward modernity. "I recently decided to read Cormac McCarthy's first three novels. This was, to understate it, an odd decision for this time of year. The world is bedecked in white lights, and my brain is filled with misshapen things. The books are by turns brilliant and exasperating, the orchard keeper, McCarthy's 1965 debut, involves two men, one of them a whiskey bootlegger, and a boy, connected in ways that are often willfully incomprehensible. The novel's who-what-when-where is a house deep in the woods with its lights out. His third book, child of god, is a far easier read; syntactically, at least. Its contents are grislier though, involving a deeply disturbed man-child who is described, on Page 4, as "a child of God much like yourself perhaps." That sentence becomes the book's central provocation as the man misunderstands, murders and defiles several people along his life's blind path. I'm halfway through his second, outer dark, as I write this. It involves a woman's search for her lost newborn, the product of an incestuous relationship with her brother. Happy Holidays!" - JOHN WILLIAMS, DAILY BOOKS EDITOR AND STAFF WRITER, ON WHAT HE'S READING.

We descended into the deep ravine and climbed up the other side. It was getting late. We were walking along a flat, brushy hilltop, looking for birds, when Budz grabbed my arm. The toms, 20 yards ahead of us and just coming into view, had no idea we were there. "Shoot!" Budz said. Then he pleaded, "Please shoot those turkeys!" I shouldered the gun and realized I had two red heads lined up perfectly in my sights. The world slowed. Even I knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But whoever had commandeered my body decided that it was a good time to practice flinching. My shot hit the ground 10 yards in front and 10 yards to the left of the birds. Hevi-Shot, incidentally, is devastating on dirt, at least in South Dakota. The turkeys spread their wings languidly and glided down the long hill we'd just scaled, back into the thick woods. Budz said nothing and walked off a few yards to be by himself. He was facing away from me. His head and torso were bobbing rhythmically, like a man banging his head against an imaginary wall. It reminded me of the TV footage you see of people at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. A strange thought coursed through my brain. Maybe they'll put up a Wailing Wall in South Dakota in my honor . The bobsled run was over for the day. I had just medaled in the Loser Olympics. I felt for Budz. He had done nothing for the past 15 hours but try to spoon-feed me chip shots at wild turkeys. My only part in all this was to aim a stick at the birds and then move my right index finger. That, obviously, had proved too complex a task. Excerpted from Should the Tent Be Burning Like That?: A Professional Amateur's Guide to the Outdoors by Bill Heavey All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.