conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is a description for a book titled The Last King of Scotland about Garrigan, Amin, Uganda with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: No, we're not talking Bonnie Prince Charlie here. The title character of the author's debut novel, The Last King of Scotland , is none other than Idi Amin, the former dictator of Uganda. Told from the viewpoint of Nicholas Garrigan, Amin's personal physician, the novel chronicles the hell that was Uganda in the 1970s. Garrigan, the only son of a Scots Presbyterian minister, finds himself far away from Fossiemuir when he accepts a post with the Ministry of Health in Uganda. His arrival in Kampala coincides with the coup that leads to President Obote's overthrow and Idi Amin Dada's ascendancy to power. Garrigan spends only a few days in the capital city, however, before heading out to his assignment in the bush. But a freak traffic accident involving Amin's sports car and a cow eventually brings the good doctor into the dictator's orbit; a few months later, Garrigan is recalled from his rural hospital and named personal physician to the president. Soon enough, Garrigan finds himself caught between his duty to his patient and growing pressure from his own government to help them control Amin.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The title character of the author's debut novel, The Last King of Scotland , is none other than Idi Amin, the former dictator of Uganda. Told from the viewpoint of Nicholas Garrigan, Amin's personal physician, the novel chronicles the hell that was Uganda in the 1970s. Garrigan, the only son of a Scots Presbyterian minister, finds himself far away from Fossiemuir when he accepts a post with the Ministry of Health in Uganda. His arrival in Kampala coincides with the coup that leads to President Obote's overthrow and Idi Amin Dada's ascendancy to power. Garrigan spends only a few days in the capital city, however, before heading out to his assignment in the bush. But a freak traffic accident involving Amin's sports car and a cow eventually brings the good doctor into the dictator's orbit; a few months later, Garrigan is recalled from his rural hospital and named personal physician to the president. Soon enough, Garrigan finds himself caught between his duty to his patient and growing pressure from his own government to help them control Amin.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first four paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Last King of Scotland
  There was a pause. "Well, I don't see why not. But it couldn't be next weekend. Nor the one after. We've got Embassy functions. The first one in February would be good, though. Bob's going down to the Kagera Salient. Amin's invited a deputation of diplomats down there to prove he's not planning to invade Tanzania."
  With that over, I went back to the seemingly less awesome task of stitching up a panga wound. Pangas were the big cutlasses they used for agriculture—and the violent settling of a quarrel. It was a very particular type of injury. People would put up their arm to protect themselves from the assault, naturally enough, and what you got was a series of linear cuts, severing tendons and, usually, producing a compound fracture underneath.
  Well, those were the easy ones. Sometimes, and it was like that with this fellow, they get cut on the skull. This one was fractured. The blade had gone nearly right through the dura mater, the fibrous layer beneath the bone. It looked as if he would be OK, but a damaged dura mater gave infection a direct route to the brain.
  And if the blade had gone in farther than that, the case was altered substantially. Even with all the research teams, not one of us there, not even Paterson, could debride the brain. We'd need a proper neurosurgeon. But it will happen one day. There will be brain surgery in Uganda. Hospitals are like people: they grow, they develop, they learn. And they decay too, and they die.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It ran through my mind that it could be stuffed with drugs. The marijuana grown in the Ugandan highlands was some of the strongest in the world. Perhaps that's what Swanepoel had meant when he said he ran "this and that" about for the Ugandan government, the first time I met him in the bar.
  I didn't see that I had any option. Not willing to run the risk of another night in the cells, I carried the box over to the door.
  So once again, totally bewildered, I did as I was told. When I got to the airport, I saw that although the runway had been repaired following the raid, the terminal building remained in ruins. I made what enquiries I could of the staff, who were now forced to do their business from a clutch of canvas tents. They were quite suspicious of me, now associating all Europeans with the Israelis, until I showed them my government pass.
  The Rafiki plane having been pointed out to me, I strode across to it, carrying the box. I hurried. I just wanted to be rid of it. The propellers were already spinning round. I could see a white face looking out of the back window at me and another at the front. The latter was wearing headphones, but Swanepoel's chunky cheekbones and beard were easily recognizable. In the middle window was his Alsatian dog, with its tongue hanging out. Its breath had steamed up the plastic.
  The pilot door opened and a little set of folding steps descended automatically, like a magic trick. Swanepoel came out, and trod down the steps.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Swanepoel came out, and trod down the steps..
  The pilot door opened and a little set of folding steps descended automatically, like a magic trick. Its breath had steamed up the plastic. In the middle window was his Alsatian dog, with its tongue hanging out. The latter was wearing headphones, but Swanepoel's chunky cheekbones and beard were easily recognizable. I could see a white face looking out of the back window at me and another at the front. The propellers were already spinning round. I just wanted to be rid of it. I hurried.
  The Rafiki plane having been pointed out to me, I strode across to it, carrying the box. They were quite suspicious of me, now associating all Europeans with the Israelis, until I showed them my government pass. I made what enquiries I could of the staff, who were now forced to do their business from a clutch of canvas tents. When I got to the airport, I saw that although the runway had been repaired following the raid, the terminal building remained in ruins.
  So once again, totally bewildered, I did as I was told. Not willing to run the risk of another night in the cells, I carried the box over to the door.
  I didn't see that I had any option. Perhaps that's what Swanepoel had meant when he said he ran "this and that" about for the Ugandan government, the first time I met him in the bar. The marijuana grown in the Ugandan highlands was some of the strongest in the world.It ran through my mind that it could be stuffed with drugs
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As he continues talking, my eye follows the steep fall of the island down to the sea. The whole is more fairylike and romantic than—I must confess my thoughts take this shape—anything I ever saw outside of a theater. It is exactly the sort of place, in fact, where, bridged across from one rocky sideslip to another, brigands or the supporters of some fanatical cause might assemble round their leader.
  In the end, I just put the phone down on him, his voice getting fainter as my hand goes down. I stare at the receiver in the cradle. And then I say to myself, I must pin up that honeysuckle in the porch. I will dig out a hammer and nails from among Eamonn's tools and do it.
  When a dead man's laptop computer is mysteriously delivered to Robert Poley, he abandons work on his latest "airport" thriller to investigate the murder of the computer's previous owner, Christo Mercer. Poley discovers that Mercer was an illegal arms trader, fatally stabbed in a remote town in the Sahara.
  The year is 1837 and a stranger is prowling London. He is Jack Maggs, a recent, illegal returnee from the desolate prison island of Australia. He risks his life seeking vengeance and reconciliation when he wins a position as a footman in the household of the genteel grocer Percy Buckle. As various schemes converge, Maggs moves into the center, a dark looming figure who is frightening, mysterious, and utterly compelling.
  In Fort-de-France, Martinique, it's carnival time. And as one fateful day draws to a close, a colorful group of musicians, street vendors, and hopeless disciples gather under a tamarind tree to listen to the legendary bard Solibo Magnificent spin tales. Suddenly, in the middle of one raucously entertaining tale, Solibo collapses. Chamoiseau creates a novel that is at turns a political satire and a lament on the death of a treasured tradition.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about South, Africa's, chilling.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As he continues talking, my eye follows the steep fall of the island down to the sea. The whole is more fairylike and romantic than—I must confess my thoughts take this shape—anything I ever saw outside of a theater. It is exactly the sort of place, in fact, where, bridged across from one rocky sideslip to another, brigands or the supporters of some fanatical cause might assemble round their leader. 
  In the end, I just put the phone down on him, his voice getting fainter as my hand goes down. I stare at the receiver in the cradle. And then I say to myself, I must pin up that honeysuckle in the porch. I will dig out a hammer and nails from among Eamonn's tools and do it. 
  When a dead man's laptop computer is mysteriously delivered to Robert Poley, he abandons work on his latest "airport" thriller to investigate the murder of the computer's previous owner, Christo Mercer. Poley discovers that Mercer was an illegal arms trader, fatally stabbed in a remote town in the Sahara. A chilling story of murder that masterfully evokes South Africa's present. 
  The year is 1837 and a stranger is prowling London. He is Jack Maggs, a recent, illegal returnee from the desolate prison island of Australia. He risks his life seeking vengeance and reconciliation when he wins a position as a footman in the household of the genteel grocer Percy Buckle. As various schemes converge, Maggs moves into the center, a dark looming figure who is frightening, mysterious, and utterly compelling. 
  In Fort-de-France, Martinique, it's carnival time. And as one fateful day draws to a close, a colorful group of musicians, street vendors, and hopeless disciples gather under a tamarind tree to listen to the legendary bard Solibo Magnificent spin tales. Suddenly, in the middle of one raucously entertaining tale, Solibo collapses. Chamoiseau creates a novel that is at turns a political satire and a lament on the death of a treasured tradition.