Neurophysiology: A Conceptual Approach offers a refreshing alternative to ‘learning by rote’. Under new authorship, the sixth edition preserves the legacy of the original author, the late Roger Carpenter, retaining the concise approach and readable style so central to its predecessors. Integrating the disciplines of neurology and neuroscience with an emphasis on principles and functional concepts, this comprehensive textbook covers the entire subject of neurophysiology, from the conduction of nerve impulses to the higher functions of the brain, within a single accessible volume. Key Features: Everything the student of medicine or physiology needs to understand neurophysiology. Blends successfully the principles of neuroscience with clinical manifestations in line with modern undergraduate curriculums. Revised and updated, with a particular focus on proprioception, skin sense and hearing, including developments in cochlear implants, and functional MRI Over 500 illustrations, accompanied by full figure legends, also available as a download for use in presentations. Choice of PB with bundled ebook, durable HB or ebook only for complete flexibility Full of explanatory colour diagrams, the book remains an unrivalled ‘one-stop shop’ for students of medicine, physiology and applied physiology, neurophysiology, neuroscience, and other bioscience disciplines seeking an integrated introduction to the challenging disciplines of neuroscience and neurology.
Canada is one of the world's most welcoming countries, a relatively new land built by immigration with some of the top cities in which to live. But how do you turn your dreams abroad into reality in Canada? This book, part of the Canadian Newcomers series, gives you the critical advantage in understanding how to prepare to come to Canada. It shows you how to navigate the government maze and how to ensure your paperwork is in order. And it provides insights from its experienced authors on what to expect on your journey.
IT had rained in torrents all the way down from Schenectady, so when Jack Duane glimpsed the lights of what looked to be a big house through the trees, he braked his battered, convertible sedan to a stop at the side of the road. Mud lay along the fenders and running boards; mud and water had spumed up and freckled Duane’s face and hat. He pulled off the latter—it was soggy—and slapped it on the seat beside him, leaning out and squinting through the darkness and falling water. He was on the last lap of a two weeks’ journey from San Francisco, his objective being New York City. There he hoped to wangle a job as foreign correspondent from an old crony, J. J. Molloy, now editor of the New York Globe. Adventurer, journalist, globetrotter, Duane was of the type that is always on the move. “It’s a place, anyway, Moses,” he said to the large black man beside him, his servitor and bodyguard, who had accompanied him everywhere for the past three years. “Somebody lives there; they ought to have some gas.” “Yasah,” said Moses, staring past Duane’s shoulder, “it’s a funny-looking place, suh.” Duane agreed. Considering that they were seventy miles from New York, in the foothills of the Catskills, with woods all around them and the rain pouring down, the thing they saw through the trees, some three hundred yards from the country road, was indeed peculiar. It looked more like a couple of Pullman cars coupled together and lighted, than like a farmer’s dwelling. “Fenced in, too,” said Duane, pointing to the high steel fence that bordered the road, separating them from the object of their vision. “And look there—” A fitful flash of lightning in the east, illuminating the distant treetops, showed up the towering steel and network of a high-voltage electric line’s tower. The roving journalist muttered something to express his puzzlement, and got out of the car. Moses followed him. “Well,” said Duane presently, when they had stared a moment longer, “whatever it is, I’m barging in. We’ve got to have some gas or we’ll never make New York tonight.” MOSES agreed. The two men started across the road—the big Negro hatless and wearing a slicker—the reporter in a belted trench coat, his brown felt hat pulled out of shape on his head. “It’s a big thing,” Duane said as he and Moses halted at the fence and peered through. Distantly, he could see now that the mysterious structure in the woods was at least a hundred yards long, flat-topped and black as coal except from narrow shafts of light that came from its windows. “And look at the light coming out of the roof.” That was, indeed, the most peculiar feature of this place they had discovered. From a section of the roof near the center, as though through a skylight, a great white light came out, illuminating the slanting rain and the bending trees.
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