conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled A Perfect Peace about Yonaton, Lifshitz, Azariah with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In the winter of 1985 Yonaton Lifshitz decides to leave the kibbutz where he was born, and his sterile marriage, to start a new life. But the arrival of Azariah Gitlin brings about a painful reconciliation of their different destinies in a society struggling with changing realities.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled A Perfect Peace about Texas, Glynn, USA with the genre: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Books.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Glynn the author was born and raised in Texas, USA. After high school in Pasadena, Texas, he went on to graduate from the US Naval Academy in 1958 and was commissioned as an ensign in the US Navy where he worked in nuclear submarines. Glynn then entered a seminary in Austin, Texas and was ordained in the Episcopal Church. He retired in 2003. A Perfect Peace is his first novel.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Perfect Peace
  But nothing else is. I'm rid of my allergy. I've stopped smoking. And I've grown a beard. I'm beginning to understand. And my heart is getting true because everything is looking up. Maybe I should go see Michal tonight? Why not?
  At last the winter came to an end. The rains had stopped. The clouds were gone. Punishing winds gave way to soft sea breezes. By the last week of March Srulik could sit every evening on his little porch and watch the flocks of migrating birds cross the reddening heavens on a northwesterly course.
  Despite the winter floods the crops did well. By April the barley and wheat fields had spread ripples of green all the way to the hills in the east. Only now did the apple orchards burst into full bloom. The pears put on their nuptial raiment of trembling white blossoms, and westerly winds carried their carnal scent. The mud roads had dried up. The fig, the almond, and the walnut put forth their rejoicing leaves. Dormant grape arbors reawakened to their entwined green lives. The rose bushes, pruned during the winter, were again in bud. Early each morning, long before sunrise, the whole kibbutz echoed with the outcry of sparrows in treetops. The hoopoe tirelessly repeated its daily matins and doves cooed insistently under the eaves.
  One Saturday, while walking in the ruins of Sheikh Dahr, Anat suddenly noticed, and quickly pointed out, five gazelles outlined against the sky. No sooner had Rimona, Zaro, and Udi seen them too than they were gone. In the courtyards of the Arab village the bougainvillea blazed through the stones, wild grape vines inched their tendrils up the smashed archways, acacia trees spread a fragrance thick as thieves. In a wagon hitched to a tractor, Udi hauled away from the ruins a large grindstone, a stone lintel, and a blackened threshing sled, all of which he displayed prominently in his garden. Forgotten, perhaps, was his plan to dig up a skeleton from the Arab graveyard and turn it into a scarecrow to shock the old-timers. Perhaps he had only been joking. Azariah brought back for Rimona a large, cracked pottery jar. He planted a red geranium in it and placed it in front of their home. "Yoni will like that a lot," she said. In her voice he heard neither joy nor sadness.
  Every morning at four Little Shimon took the sheep out to pasture on the hills to the east. And once a day Etan R. cut a wagonload of alfalfa to scatter among the feedstalls in the cowshed. In the afternoon, their communal chores finished, the members of the kibbutz once again began to tend their little gardens, hoeing, pruning, and mowing. The news on the radio continued to report tension on the northern border, infiltrators, the imminent danger of war, the vigorous protests and warnings lodged by Prime Minister Eshkol with the ambassadors of the Four Powers. Sometimes, between one news bulletin and the next, an old Hebrew song tugged at the heartstrings.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Much later, near midnight, Srulik passed by on his nocturnal stroll. He turned off the sprinkler that Azariah had forgotten to tend to on the lawn.
  By four, Azariah was out of bed and off to work in the tractor shed. After changing the radiator in a D-6 and fixing an oil leak in one of the combines, it occurred to him to remove the picture of the Minister of Welfare that he had clipped from an illustrated magazine during the winter. In place of Dr. Burg, he put up a colorful picture of the sea, which had been much on his mind as the summer heat grew more intense.
  In the metal shop a barefoot Bolognesi donned his welder's mask and set to work repairing chicken cages. Sparks flew in all directions. "By day'a drought consume'a me an' frost by night," he mumbled.
  Etan R. had made some far-reaching changes in the cowshed. Both his girlfriends worked alongside him, and the lunacy of the late-night milking had been relegated to the dustbin of history. The three of them now began the milking at the eminently civilized hour of nine p.m. On finishing around twelve, they would go for a starlit dip in the pool, open a bottle of wine, and let nature take its course.
  From time to time the two of them would have Azariah and Rimona, who also expected to give birth in early winter, over for Turkish coffee with cardamom. Udi still enjoyed talking about past and future wars. Azariah had a penchant for politics—Nasser's trouble in Yemen, the dilemmas facing King Hussein, the blindness of Eshkol and his cabinet—and for the dark labyrinths of the Russian soul. Azariah was no longer the object of snickers behind his back. He had learned the art of pausing for effect between one sentence and the next and of making people laugh when he wanted them to. He had also mastered the trick of interrupting himself with an unexpected rhetorical question, the unconventionality of which tended to make his audience feel it was considering the subject without prejudice for the first time.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Stutchnik, streamlining.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Much later, near midnight, Srulik passed by on his nocturnal stroll. He turned off the sprinkler that Azariah had forgotten to tend to on the lawn. 
  By four, Azariah was out of bed and off to work in the tractor shed. After changing the radiator in a D-6 and fixing an oil leak in one of the combines, it occurred to him to remove the picture of the Minister of Welfare that he had clipped from an illustrated magazine during the winter. In place of Dr. Burg, he put up a colorful picture of the sea, which had been much on his mind as the summer heat grew more intense. 
  In the metal shop a barefoot Bolognesi donned his welder's mask and set to work repairing chicken cages. Sparks flew in all directions. "By day'a drought consume'a me an' frost by night," he mumbled. 
  Etan R. had made some far-reaching changes in the cowshed. Now that stubborn Stutchnik was gone at last and there was no one to stand in the way of progress, he lost no time in streamlining the operation. Both his girlfriends worked alongside him, and the lunacy of the late-night milking had been relegated to the dustbin of history. The three of them now began the milking at the eminently civilized hour of nine p. m. On finishing around twelve, they would go for a starlit dip in the pool, open a bottle of wine, and let nature take its course. 
  From time to time the two of them would have Azariah and Rimona, who also expected to give birth in early winter, over for Turkish coffee with cardamom. Udi still enjoyed talking about past and future wars. Azariah had a penchant for politics—Nasser's trouble in Yemen, the dilemmas facing King Hussein, the blindness of Eshkol and his cabinet—and for the dark labyrinths of the Russian soul. Azariah was no longer the object of snickers behind his back. He had learned the art of pausing for effect between one sentence and the next and of making people laugh when he wanted them to. He had also mastered the trick of interrupting himself with an unexpected rhetorical question, the unconventionality of which tended to make his audience feel it was considering the subject without prejudice for the first time.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Yonatan and Azariah built a dog house for Tia in the garden, her home for as long as Na'ama was small. Inside, Hava had become undisputed boss of the household. Whenever she told Rimona what she must and mustn't do, Rimona would solemnly reply, "Fine. Thank you. That's fine."
  Hava could not do enough to make life easier for all of them. She was full of wild energy. Once she went off to Haifa for two days to furnish a new apartment for Amos and his young wife. Amos was rarely home on leave from the army because the situation on the borders had worsened and crack units were almost continually in a state of full alert. As soon as she got back from Haifa, Hava sewed four nightdresses for her granddaughter and knit her a pair of woolen booties and a sweater. When Azariah grew delirious with fever from a throat infection, she took him to Srulik's bedroom without even asking the secretary's permission and nursed him like a baby. When Yonatan broke a finger in the tractor shed, she took him to the hospital and never left his side until it was set in a cast. Once, when Rimona suggested that she ease up on herself, Hava broke into uproarious laughter and proceeded to take down all the window screens and scrub them one by one. In late May, both Yoni and Azariah were mobilized. Soon after, the war predicted by Azariah broke out. Israel won and pushed forward its front lines. Etan R. was killed on the Golan Heights. His two girlfriends went on living in his room by the swimming pool. Yonatan's reconnaissance unit fought in the Sinai. On the sixth and last day of combat, he took over its command from Chupka, who had been torn to shreds by a direct artillery hit. Azariah, serving in a front-line grease pit, worked around the clock. Major Zlotkin called him a miracle and promoted him to sergeant as soon as the war was over. On their discharge, Hava baked them a cake. Srulik threw a small welcome-home party for the sons who returned from the battlefield. Yonatan and Azariah discovered when they came back that the baby had learned how to turn over. Soon she would be crawling on the straw mat. "Look at her. She's laughing," said Rimona. "It's because she understands," said Hava.
  If anyone dared say a slighting word about her happy trio, Hava would bare her fangs like an old she-wolf.
  The next day, however, she would apologize. "Please forgive me. I lost my temper yesterday. I went too far. I'm terribly sorry."
  The earth is indifferent. The sky is mysterious. The sea is a lasting menace. And the plants and the migrating birds. The stone is as silent as death which has dominion over all. Cruelty is in each of us. Each of us is a bit of a murderer, if not of others, of himself. Love is beyond me still, perhaps it has always been. Pain is a fact. But a thing or two we can do, and since we can, we must. As for the rest, who knows? Let's wait and see. Instead of continuing this entry, I think I'll play my flute tonight.