2016, ISBN: 9780071008709
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The Royal Institute of Navigation.. Very Good. 1977. Soft Cover. 8vo The Royal Institute of Navigation. Diagrams, Photographs. Operational Experience in the Use of Omega. Navigation… Mehr…
The Royal Institute of Navigation.. Very Good. 1977. Soft Cover. 8vo The Royal Institute of Navigation. Diagrams, Photographs. Operational Experience in the Use of Omega. Navigation in the Gulf of Suez. A Survey of Marine Traffic in the Southern North Sea. A Method for Estimating the Voyage Distribution of Marine Traffic. Some Mathematical Aspects of Air Traffic Systems. The Dissemination of Navigational Information. The Fully Automatic Radar Plotter in the Context of Some Past Collisions-II. A Horizontal Radar Display. The First Navigation of Torres Strait. Safety of Navigation Under Sail FORUM A Case of Random Collision Probabilities. Inertial Navigation. The Role of Lighting in Aids to Marine Navigation'. A Polar Compass. The Conception and Development of Weir's Diagram. ., The Royal Institute of Navigation., 1977, 3, Dell. Good. 4.17 x 0.95 x 6.86 inches. Paperback. 2008. 368 pages. Cover worn.<br>Book 5 in the New York Times and #1 int ernationally bestselling Midnight Breed vampire romance series B ound by blood, addicted to danger, they'll enter the darkest--and most erotic--place of all. A warrior trained in bullets and bla des, Renata cannot be bested by any man--vampire or mortal. But h er most powerful weapon is her extraordinary psychic ability--a g ift both rare and deadly. Now a stranger threatens her hard-won i ndependence--a golden-haired vampire who lures her into a realm o f darkness...and pleasure beyond imagining. A combat-loving adr enaline junkie, Nikolai dispenses his own justice to enemies of t he Breed--and his latest quarry is a ruthless assassin. One woman stands in his way: the seductive, cool-as-ice bodyguard, Renata. But Renata's powers are put to the test when a loved one, a chil d, is threatened and she's forced to turn to Niko for help. As th e two join forces, as desire fans the flames of a deeper hunger, Renata's life is under siege by a man who offers the exquisite pl easure of a blood bond--and a passion that could save or doom the m both forever.... Editorial Reviews Review Well-written and be autifully plotted, with intriguingly complex characters, it's a t hrill ride from the opening scenes . . . Fans get ready, this ser ies just gets better and better! --Fresh Fiction From the Author The Midnight Breed Series reading order: A Touch of Midnight (p requel novella - free ebook) Kiss of Midnight Kiss of Crimson Mid night Awakening Midnight Rising Veil of Midnight Ashes of Midnigh t Shades of Midnight Taken by Midnight Deeper Than Midnight A Tas te of Midnight (novella, ebook only) Darker After Midnight The Mi dnight Breed Series Companion Edge of Dawn Marked by Midnight (no vella) Crave the Night Tempted by Midnight (novella) Bound to Dar kness Stroke of Midnight (novella) Defy the Dawn (Spring 2016) Mi dnight Untamed (October 2016) ...and more to come! Also by Lara Adrian: Phoenix Code Romantic Suspense Series (with Tina Folsom) Cut and Run Hide and Seek Masters of Seduction Paranormal Roman ce Series Merciless: House of Gravori Priceless: House of Ebarron To get notified of new releases and to be eligible for subscrib ers-only giveaways and exclusive content, be sure to visit Lara's website and sign up for the newsletter! About the Author Lara A drian is the New York Times and #1 internationally bestselling au thor of the Midnight Breed vampire romance series (Random House) and seven award-winning, newly reissued historical romances, prev iously released under the pen name Tina St. John--now available f or Kindle and other ebook devices. To keep up to date with all o f Lara's upcoming books and to be eligible for special promotions and giveaways, visit Lara's website and sign up for her private email newsletter. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One On stage in the cavernous jazz club below Montreal's street level, a crimson-lipped singer drawled into th e microphone about the cruelty of love. Although her sultry voice was pleasant enough, the lyrics about blood and pain and pleasur e clearly heartfelt, Nikolai wasn't listening. He wondered if she knew-if any of the dozens of humans packed into the intimate clu b knew-that they were sharing breathing space with vampires. The two young females sucking down pink martinis in the dark corner banquette sure as hell didn't know it. They were sandwiched betw een four such individuals, a group of slick, leather-clad males w ho were chatting them up-without much success-and trying to act l ike their bloodthirsty eyes hadn't been permanently fixed on the women's jugulars for the past fifteen minutes straight. Even thou gh it was clear that the vampires were negotiating hard to get th e humans out of the club with them, they weren't making much prog ress with their prospective blood Hosts. Nikolai scoffed under h is breath. Amateurs. He paid for the beer he'd left untouched o n the bar and headed at an easy stroll toward the corner table. A s he approached, he watched the two human females scoot out of th e booth on unsteady legs. Giggling, they stumbled for the restroo ms together, disappearing down a dim, crowded hallway off the mai n room. Nikolai sat down at the table in a negligent sprawl. Ev ening, ladies. The four vampires stared at him in silence, insta ntly recognizing their own kind. Niko lifted one of the tall, lip stick-stained martini glasses to his nose and sniffed at the dreg s of the fruity concoction. He winced, pushing the offending drin k aside. Humans, he drawled in a low voice. How can they stomach that shit? A wary silence fell over the table as Nikolai's glan ce traveled among the obviously young, obviously civilian Breed m ales. The largest of the four cleared his throat as he looked at Niko, his instincts no doubt picking up on the fact that Niko was n't local, and he was a far cry from civilized. The youth adopte d something he probably thought was a hardass look and jerked his soul-patched chin toward the restroom corridor. We saw them firs t, he murmured. The women. We saw them first. He cleared his thro at again, like he was waiting for his trio of wingmen to back him up. None did. We got here first, man. When the females come back to the table, they're gonna be leaving with us. Nikolai chuckle d at the young male's shaky attempt to stake his territory. You r eally think there'd be any contest if I was here to poach your ga me? Relax. I'm not interested in that. I'm looking for informatio n. He'd been through a similar song-and-dance twice already toni ght at other clubs, seeking out the places where members of the B reed tended to gather and hunt for blood, looking for someone who could point him toward a vampire elder named Sergei Yakut. It w asn't easy finding someone who didn't want to be found, especiall y a secretive, nomadic individual like Yakut. He was in Montreal, that much Nikolai was sure of. He'd spoken to the reclusive vamp ire by phone as recently as a couple of weeks earlier, when he'd tracked Yakut down to inform him of a threat that seemed aimed at the Breed's most powerful, rarest members-the twenty or so indiv iduals still in existence who were born of the first generation. Someone was targeting Gen Ones for extinction. Several had been slain within the past month, and for Niko and his brothers in arm s back in Boston-a small cadre of highly trained, highly lethal w arriors known as the Order-the business of rooting out and shutti ng down the elusive Gen One assassins was mission critical. For t hat, the Order had decided to contact all of the known Gen Ones r emaining in the Breed population and enlist their cooperation. S ergei Yakut had been less than enthusiastic to get involved. He f eared no one, and he had his own personal clan to protect him. He 'd declined the Order's invitation to come to Boston and talk, so Nikolai had been dispatched to Montreal to persuade him. Once Ya kut was made aware of the scope of the current threat-the stunnin g truth of what the Order and all of the Breed were now up agains t-Nikolai was certain the Gen One would be willing to come on boa rd. First he had to find the cagey son of a bitch. So far his i nquiries around the city had turned up nothing. Patience wasn't e xactly his strong suit, but he had all night, and he'd keep searc hing. Sooner or later, someone might give him the answer he was l ooking for. And if he kept coming up dry, maybe if he asked enoug h questions, Sergei Yakut would come looking for him instead. I need to find someone, Nikolai told the four Breed youths. A vampi re out of Russia. Siberia, to be exact. That where you're from? asked the soul-patched mouthpiece of the group. He'd evidently pi cked up on the slight tinge of an accent that Nikolai hadn't lost in the long years he'd been living in the States with the Order. Niko let his glacial blue eyes speak to his own origins. Do you know this individual? No, man. I don't know him. Two other hea ds shook in immediate denial, but the last of the four youths, th e sullen one who was slouched low in the booth, shot an anxious l ook up at Nikolai from across the table. Niko caught that tellin g gaze and held it. What about you? Any idea who I'm talking abou t? At first, he didn't think the vampire was going to answer. Hoo ded eyes held his in silence, then, finally, the kid lifted one s houlder in a shrug and exhaled a curse. Sergei Yakut, he murmured . The name was hardly audible, but Nikolai heard it. And from th e periphery of his vision, he noticed that an ebony-haired woman seated at the bar nearby heard it too. He could tell she had from the sudden rigidity of her spine beneath her long-sleeved black top and from the way her head snapped briefly to the side as thou gh pulled there by the power of that name alone. You know him? N ikolai asked the Breed male, while keeping the brunette at the ba r well within his sights. I know of him, that's all. He doesn't live in the Darkhavens, said the youth, referring to the secured communities that housed most of the Breed civilian populations th roughout North America and Europe. Dude's one nasty mofo from wha t I've heard. Yeah, he was, Nikolai acknowledged inwardly. Any i dea where I might find him? No. You sure about that? Niko asked , watching as the woman at the bar slid off her stool and prepare d to leave. She still had more than half a cocktail in her glass, but at the mere mention of Yakut's name, she seemed suddenly in a big hurry to get out of the place. The Breed youth shook his h ead. I don't know where to find the dude. Don't know why anyone w ould willingly look for him either, unless you got some kind of d eath wish. Nikolai glanced over his shoulder as the tall brunett e started edging her way through the crowd gathered near the bar. On impulse, she turned to look at him then, her jade-green gaze piercing beneath the fringe of dark lashes and the glossy swing o f her sleek, chin-length bob. There was a note of fear in her eye s as she stared back at him, a naked fear she didn't even attempt to hide. I'll be damned, Niko muttered. She knew something abo ut Sergei Yakut. Something more than just a passing knowledge, h e was guessing. That startled, panicked look as she turned and br oke for an escape said it all. Nikolai took off after her. He we aved through the thicket of humans filling the club, his eyes tra ined on the silky black hair of his quarry. The female was quick, as fleet and agile as a gazelle, her dark clothes and hair letti ng her practically disappear into her surroundings. But Niko was Breed, and there was no human in existence who could outrun one of his kind. She ducked out the club door and made a fast right o nto the street outside. Nikolai followed. She must have sensed hi m hard on her heels because she pivoted her head around to gauge his pursuit and those pale green eyes locked on to him like laser s. She ran faster now, turning the corner at the end of the bloc k. Not two seconds later, Niko was there too. He grinned as he ca ught sight of her a few yards ahead of him. The alley she'd enter ed between two tall brick buildings was narrow and dark-a dead en d sealed off by a dented metal Dumpster and a chain-link fence th at climbed some ten feet up from the ground. The woman spun arou nd on the spiked heels of her black boots, panting hard, eyes tra ined on him, watching his every move. Nikolai took a few steps i nto the lightless alley, then paused, his hands held benevolently out to his sides. It's okay, he told her. No need to run. I just want to talk to you. She stared in silence. I want to ask you about Sergei Yakut. She swallowed visibly, her smooth white thro at flexing. You know him, don't you. The edge of her mouth qui rked only a fraction, but enough to tell him that he was correct- she was familiar with the reclusive Gen One. Whether she could le ad Niko to him was another matter. Right now, she was his best, p ossibly his only, hope. Tell me where he is. I need to find him. At her sides, her hands balled into fists. Her feet were braced slightly apart as if she were prepared to bolt. Niko saw her gla nce subtly toward a battered door to her left. She lunged for it . Niko hissed a curse and flew after her with all the speed he p ossessed. By the time she'd thrown the door open on its groaning hinges, Nikolai was standing in front of her at the threshold, bl ocking her path into the darkness on the other side. He chuckled at the ease of it. I said there's no need to run, he said, shrug ging lightly as she backed a step away from him. He let the door fall closed behind him as he followed her slow retreat into the a lley. Jesus, she was breathtaking. He'd only gotten a glimpse of her in the club, but now, standing just a couple of feet from he r, he realized that she was absolutely stunning. Tall and lean, w illowy beneath her fitted black clothing, with flawless milk-whit e skin and luminous almond-shaped eyes. Her heart-shaped face was a mesmerizing combination of strength and softness, her beauty e qual parts light and dark. Nikolai knew he was gaping, but damn i f he could help it. Talk to me, he said. Tell me your name. He reached for her, an easy, nonthreatening move of his hand. He sen sed the jolt of adrenaline that shot into her bloodstream-he coul d smell the citrusy tang of it in the air, in fact-but he didn't see the roundhouse kick coming at him until he took the sharp hee l of her boot squarely in his chest. Goddamn. He rocked back, m ore surprised than unfooted. It was all the break she needed. Th e woman leapt for the door again, this time managing to disappear into the darkened building before Niko could wheel around and st op her. He gave chase, thundering in behind her. The place was e mpty, just a lot of naked concrete beneath his feet, bare bricks and exposed rafters all around him. Some fleeting sense of forebo ding prickled at the back of his neck as he raced deeper into the darkness, but the bulk of his attention was focused on the femal e standing in the center of the vacant space. She stared him down as he approached, every muscle in her slim body seeming tensed f or attack. Nikolai held that sharp stare as he drew up in front of her. I'm not going to hurt you. I know. She smiled, just a sl ight curve of her lips. You won't get that chance. Her voice was velvety smooth, but the glint in her eyes took on a cold edge. W ithout warning, Niko fel, Dell, 2008, 2.5, Anchor Books. Very Good. 19 x 13cm. Paperback. 2003. 353 pages. <br>NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNER ? NATIONAL BESTSELLER ? An astonishing novel that traces the lives of a Scottish family over a decade as they confront the joys and longings, fulfillment s and betrayals of love in all its guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, travels to Gre ece, where he falls for a young American artist and reflects on t he complicated truth about his marriage.... Six years later, ag ain in June, Paul's death draws his three grown sons and their fa milies back to their ancestral home. Fenno, the eldest, a wry, in trospective gay man, narrates the events of this unforeseen reuni on. Far from his straitlaced expatriate life as a bookseller in G reenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of revelations tha t threaten his carefully crafted defenses.... Four years farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Long Island sho re brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artist who once c aptivated his father. Now pregnant, Fern must weigh her guilt abo ut the past against her wishes for the future and decide what fam ily means to her. In prose rich with compassion and wit, Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love's redemptive powers. Ed itorial Reviews From The New Yorker This enormously accomplished début novel is a triptych that spans three summers, across a dec ade, in the disparate lives of the McLeod family. The widowed fat her, a newspaper publisher who maintains the family manse in Scot land, is chary, dogged, and deceptively mild. Fenno, the eldest s on, runs an upscale bookshop in the West Village, and his most in timate relationship--aside from almost anonymous grapplings with a career house-sitter named Tony--is with a parrot called Felicit y. One of Fenno's younger brothers is a Paris chef whose wife tur ns out pretty daughters like so many brioches; the other is a vet erinarian whose wife wants Fenno to help them have a baby. Glass is interested in how risky love is for some people, and she write s so well that what might seem like farce is rich, absorbing, and full of life. Copyright ® 2005 The New Yorker Review Enormous ly accomplished....rich, absorbing, and full of life. -The New Yo rker A warm, wise debut. . . . Three Junes marks a blessed event for readers of literary fiction everywhere.-San Francisco Chroni cle Julia Glass's talent sends chills up my spine; Three Junes i s a marvel.-Richard Russo, author of Empire Falls Three Junes al most threatens to burst with all the life it contains. Glass's ab ility to illuminate and deepen the mysteries of her characters' l ives is extraordinary. - Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours 'Three Junes' brilliantly rescues, then refurbishes, the traditi onal plot-driven novel. . . Glass has written a generous book abo ut family expectations-but also about happiness. - The New York T imes Book Review Gorgeous. . .'Three Junes' goes after the big i ssues without a trace of fustiness and gives us a memorable hero. - Los Angeles Times Book Review 'Three Junes' is a novel that b ursts with the lives of its characters. They move into our hearts , taking up permanent residence, the newest members of the reader 's family of choice.-Times-Picayune Fiercely realized. . .luxuri ant in its emotional comprehension and the idea, or promise, that anything might happen.-Boston Globe Radiant...an intimate liter ary triptych of lives pulled together and torn apart.-Chicago Tri bune Sophisticated . . . Engrossing . . . Catches the surprisin g twists and turns in family relationships, amid love, loss, hope and regret.-Seattle Post-Intelligencer The sort of sparkling d ebut that marks a writer as one to watch. -Daily News The fluid , evolving nature of family history is at the heart of this assur ed first novel.-Time Out New York This first novel treats family ties, erotic longing, small children and prolonged deaths from A IDS and cancer with a subtlety that grows from scrupulous unsenti mentality.-Newsday Formidable. . . The traditional novel of soci al relations is very much alive in Three Junes. Virginia Woolf an d Elizabeth Bowen, among other exemplars, would surely approve.-K irkus Reviews Brimming with a marvelous cast of intricate charac ters set in an assortment of scintillating backdrops, Glass's phi losophically introspective novel is highly intelligent and well-w ritten.-Booklist Review Enormously accomplished....rich, absorbi ng, and full of life. -The New Yorker A warm, wise debut. . . . Three Junes marks a blessed event for readers of literary fiction everywhere.-San Francisco Chronicle Julia Glass's talent sends chills up my spine; Three Junes is a marvel.-Richard Russo, autho r of Empire Falls Three Junes almost threatens to burst with all the life it contains. Glass's ability to illuminate and deepen t he mysteries of her characters' lives is extraordinary. - Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours 'Three Junes' brilliantly rescu es, then refurbishes, the traditional plot-driven novel. . . Glas s has written a generous book about family expectations-but also about happiness. - The New York Times Book Review Gorgeous. . .' Three Junes' goes after the big issues without a trace of fustine ss and gives us a memorable hero. - Los Angeles Times Book Review 'Three Junes' is a novel that bursts with the lives of its char acters. They move into our hearts, taking up permanent residence, the newest members of the reader's family of choice.-Times-Picay une Fiercely realized. . .luxuriant in its emotional comprehensi on and the idea, or promise, that anything might happen.-Boston G lobe Radiant...an intimate literary triptych of lives pulled tog ether and torn apart.-Chicago Tribune Sophisticated . . . Engro ssing . . . Catches the surprising twists and turns in family rel ationships, amid love, loss, hope and regret.-Seattle Post-Intell igencer The sort of sparkling debut that marks a writer as one to watch. -Daily News The fluid, evolving nature of family hist ory is at the heart of this assured first novel.-Time Out New Yor k This first novel treats family ties, erotic longing, small chi ldren and prolonged deaths from AIDS and cancer with a subtlety t hat grows from scrupulous unsentimentality.-Newsday Formidable. . . The traditional novel of social relations is very much alive in Three Junes. Virginia Woolf and Elizabeth Bowen, among other e xemplars, would surely approve.-Kirkus Reviews Brimming with a m arvelous cast of intricate characters set in an assortment of sci ntillating backdrops, Glass's philosophically introspective novel is highly intelligent and well-written.-Booklist From the Insid e Flap An astonishing first novel that traces the lives of a Scot tish family over a decade as they confront the joys and longings, fulfillments and betrayals of love in all its guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, tr avels to Greece, where he falls for a young American artist and r eflects on the complicated truth about his marriage. . ..Six year s later, again in June, Paul?s death draws his three grown sons a nd their families back to their ancestral home. Fenno, the eldest , a wry, introspective gay man, narrates the events of this unfor eseen reunion. Far from his straitlaced expatriate life as a book seller in Greenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of reve lations that threaten his carefully crafted defenses. . .. Four y ears farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Lon g Island shore brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artis t who once captivated his father. Now pregnant, Fern must weigh h er guilt about the past against her wishes for the future and dec ide what family means to her. In prose rich with compassion and w it,Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love?s redemptive po wers. From the Back Cover An astonishing first novel that traces the lives of a Scottish family over a decade as they confront th e joys and longings, fulfillments and betrayals of love in all it s guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, travels to Greece, where he falls for a young Am erican artist and reflects on the complicated truth about his mar riage. . ..Six years later, again in June, Paul's death draws his three grown sons and their families back to their ancestral home . Fenno, the eldest, a wry, introspective gay man, narrates the e vents of this unforeseen reunion. Far from his straitlaced expatr iate life as a bookseller in Greenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of revelations that threaten his carefully crafted de fenses. . .. Four years farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Long Island shore brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artist who once captivated his father. Now pregnant , Fern must weigh her guilt about the past against her wishes for the future and decide what family means to her. In prose rich wi th compassion and wit, Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love's redemptive powers. About the Author Julia Glass is the a uthor of the best-selling Three Junes, winner of the 2002 Nationa l Book Award for Fiction; her previous novels include, most recen tly, And the Dark Sacred Night and The Widower's Tale. A teacher of fiction and a recipient of fellowships from the National Endow ment for the Arts, the New York Foundation for the Arts, and the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, Glass lives with her fami ly in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permis sion. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 Paul chose greece for its p redictable whiteness: the blanching heat by day, the rush of star s at night, the glint of the lime-washed houses crowding its coas t. Blinding, searing, somnolent, fossilized Greece. Joining a to ur-that was the gamble, because Paul is not a gregarious sort. He dreads fund-raisers and drinks parties, all occasions at which h e must give an account of himself to people he will never see aga in. Yet there are advantages to the company of strangers. You can tell them whatever you please: no lies perhaps, but no affecting truths. Paul does not fabricate well (though once, foolishly, he believed that he could), and the single truth he's offered these random companions-that recently he lost his wife-brought down a flurry of theatrical condolence. (A hand on his at the breakfast table in Athens, the very first day: Time, time, and more time. L et Monsignor Time do his tedious, devious work. Marjorie, a breat hy schoolmistress from Devon.) Not counting Jack, they are ten. Paul is one of three men; the other two, Ray and Solly, are appen ded to wives. And then, besides Marjorie, there are two pairs of women traveling together, in their seventies at least: a surprisi ngly spry quartet who carry oversize binoculars with which they o gle everything and everyone, at appallingly close range. Seeing t he sights, they wear identical, brand-new hiking boots; to the gr oup's communal dinners, cork-soled sandals with white crocheted t ops. Paul thinks of them as the quadruplets. In the beginning, t here was an all-around well-mannered effort to mingle, but then, sure as sedimentation, the two married couples fell together and the quadruplets reverted more or less to themselves. Only Marjori e, trained by profession to dole out affection equally, continues to treat everyone like a new friend, and with her as their muse, the women coddle Paul like an infant. His room always has the be st view, his seat on the boat is always in shade; the women alway s insist. The husbands treat him as though he were vaguely leprou s. Jack finds the whole thing amusing: Delightful, watching you c ringe. Jack is their guide: young and irreverent, thank God. Reve rence would send Paul over the edge. Even this far from home the re are reminders, like camera flashes or shooting pains. On the s treets, in the plazas, on the open-decked ferries, he is constant ly sighting Maureen: any tall lively blonde, any sunstruck girl w ith a touch of the brazen. German or Swedish or Dutch, there she is, again and again. Today she happens to be an American, one of two girls at a nearby table. Jack has noticed them too, Paul can tell, though both men pretend to read their shared paper-day befo re yesterday's Times. By no means beautiful, this girl, but she h as a garish spirit, a laugh she makes no effort to stifle. She we ars an eccentrically wide-brimmed hat, tied under her chin with a feathery scarf. (Miss Forties Nostalgic, Maureen would have pegg ed her. These gals think they missed some grand swinging party.) Little good the hat seems to have done her, though: she is sunbur nt geranium pink, her arms crazed with freckles. The second girl is the beauty, with perfect pale skin and thick cocoa-colored hai r; Jack will have an eye on that one. The girls talk too loudly, but Paul enjoys listening. In their midtwenties, he guesses, ten years younger than his sons. Heaven. I am telling you exquisite, says the dark-haired girl in a husky, all-knowing voice. A sensua l sort of coup de foudre. You go up on donkeys? Where? the blond e answers eagerly. This dishy farmer rents them. He looks like G iancarlo Giannini. Those soulful sad-dog eyes alone are worth the price of admission. He rides alongside and whacks them with a st ick when they get ornery. Whacks them? Oh just prods them a lit tle, for God's sake. Nothing inhumane. Listen-I'm sure the ones t hat hump olives all day really get whacked. By donkey standards, these guys live like royalty. She rattles through a large canvas satchel and pulls out a map, which she opens across the table. Th e girls lean together. Valley of the Butterflies! The blonde poi nts. Jack snorts quietly from behind his section of the Times. D on't tell the dears, but it's moths. Paul folds his section and lays it on the table. He is the owner and publisher of the Yeoman , the Dumfries-Galloway paper. When he left, he promised to call in every other day. He has called once in ten and felt grateful n ot to be needed. Paging through the news from afar, he finds hims elf tired of it all. Tired of Maggie Thatcher, her hedgehog eyes, her vacuous hair, her cotton-mouthed edicts on jobs, on taxes, o n terrorist acts. Tired of bickering over the Chunnel, over untap ped oil off the Isle of Mull. Tired of rainy foggy pewtered skies . Here, too, there are clouds, but they are inconsequential, each one benign as a bridal veil. And wind, but the wind is warm, mak ing a cheerful fuss of the awning over the tables, carrying loose napkins like birds to th, Anchor Books, 2003, 3, Random House. Good. 5.94 x 9.13 x 1.22 inches. Paperback. 2006. 422 pages. Text tanned<br>This magnificent novel by one of Americ a's finest writers is the epic of one man's remarkable journey, s et in nineteenth-century America against the background of a vani shing people and a rich way of life. At the age of twelve, under the Wind moon, Will is given a horse, a key, and a map, and sent alone into the Indian Nation to run a trading post as a bound bo y. It is during this time that he grows into a man, learning, as he does, of the raw power it takes to create a life, to find a ho me. In a card game with a white Indian named Featherstone, Will w ins - for a brief moment - a mysterious girl named Claire, and hi s passion and desire for her spans this novel. As Will's destiny intertwines with the fate of the Cherokee Indians - including a C herokee Chief named Bear - he learns how to fight and survive in the face of both nature and men, and eventually, under the Corn T assel Moon, Will begins the fight against Washington City to pres erve the Cherokee's homeland and culture. And he will come to kno w the truth behind his belief that only desire trumps time. Bri lliantly imagined, written with great power and beauty by a maste r of American fiction, Thirteen Moons is a stunning novel about a man's passion for a woman, and how loss, longing and love can sh ape a man's destiny over the many moons of a life. From the Hard cover edition. Editorial Reviews From Bookmarks Magazine Critic s voiced great expectations for Thirteen Moons, coming nearly ten years after Charles Frazier's National Book Award-winning Cold M ountain (1997). Unfortunately, this second novel fails to achieve the same uniform critical acclaim. Certainly, similarities betwe en the two books abound, including a deep appreciation for the So uthern Appalachian landscape, a protagonist embarking on a life-d efining odyssey, an elegiac tone, and swatches of excellent prose . Here, Frazier frames Will's story against America's transition from a frontier society into an industrial nation. Despite some p raise, reviewers generally agree that Thirteen Moons is an airier production (New York Times), with perhaps more clichés, less con vincing characterizations and relationships, and a less wieldy pl ot. What critics do agree on, however, is the excellent period de tail and research that makes Frazier a first-rate chronicler of A merican history. Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of t his title. From Publishers Weekly Starred Review. Once in a grea t while, all of the elements of an audio book come together to cr eate a near-perfect experience for the listener. Frazier's follow -up to his 1997 National Book Award-winner, Cold Mountain, is ano ther saga of enduring love. It's no small gift to work with great material, and Patton transforms the text into a tale that sounds as if it were meant to be read aloud. It's a story to be told by the fire over the course of a long winter, just as the narrator Will Cooper and his adoptive Cherokee father, Bear, swap yarns wh ile they are hunkered down until the end of the snow season. Patt on's voice has an unidentifiable Southern lilt, which nicely fits a novel vaguely set in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. Patto n makes the correct choice not to individualize each character's voice as this is so much Cooper's tale. Bluegrass melodies played by Ryan Scott and Christina Courtin enhance the production. The CDs have been thoughtfully designed, with the numbers circling ea ch disc like a moon. This attention to detail makes for a beautif ul production of a love story that listeners will not put down an d will want to replay. Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or una vailable edition of this title. From Booklist In one of the most anticipated novels of the current publishing season, Frazier, au thor of the widely applauded Cold Mountain (1997), remains true t o the historical fiction vein. The author's second outing finds g rounding in a timeless theme: a grand old man remembering his glo ry days. As a teenager during the James Monroe administration, Wi ll Cooper is sent off, in an indentured situation, into the wilde rness of the Indian Nation to run a trading post. From a mixed-ra ce Indian, he wins a girl with whom he will be besotted for the r est of his life, and his passion will extend into personal involv ement in Indian affairs, to the highest level of politics. Thus F razier also remains faithful to the theme of his previous novel: the odyssey, especially one man's path through trials and tribula tions to be by the side of the woman he loves. And he remains fai thful to a method that marked Cold Mountain in readers' memories: a proliferation of detail about customs and costumes, about food and recreation--pretty much what everything looked and smelled l ike. Unfortunately, for the first fourth of the book, there is to o much detail for the plot to easily bear. But, finally, the char acters are able to step out from behind this blanket of particula rs and incidentals and make the story work. Expect considerable d emand, of course. Brad Hooper Copyright © American Library Associ ation. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review Gorgeous...Thirteen Moons calls Cold Mountain to mind in its wonder at the natural w orld; its pacificist undercurrents; its dismay at the dismantling of what matters, and its convication that one love, no matter ho w tortured and inexplicable, can be life-defining...fascinating.. .vivid and alive. -Newsweek Thirteen Moons brings this vanished world thrillingly to life... One of the great Native American, an d American stories, and a great gift to all of us, from one of ou r very best writers. -Kirkus Reviews, starred review There are t hings so masterful words can't do them justice. Frazier's writing falls in that category...With Thirteen Moons, he's doing importa nt work filling in the gaps, helping restore the roots, of our kn owledge of our own history. -Asheville Citizen-Times Fascinatin g...Reading Thirteen Moons is an intoxicating experience...This i s 21st-century literary fiction at its very best. -BookPage Thi rteen Moons is rare in many ways and occupies a literary plane of such height that reviewing it is not really salient....Thirteen Moons has the power to inspire great performances from succeeding generations of writers....For those who simply value the literar y experience, Thirteen Moons will provide the immense satisfactio n of taking a literary journey of magnitude. Whether on a plane, in an office or curled in a window seat, readers who absorb Will' s story will find their own lives enriched....Thirteen Moons belo ngs to the ages. -Los Angeles Times Magical...the history lesson in Thirteen Moons is fascinating and moving...You will find much to admire and savor in Thirteen Moons. -USA Today Verdict: A po werhouse second act....a brilliant success...Frazier's second act should convince everyone that he's here to stay. It is a powerfu l, dramatic, often surprising and memorable novel. -Atlanta Journ al Constitution Thirteen Moons is a boisterous, confident novel that draws from the epic tradition... Frazier is a natural storyt eller, and throughout his picaresque tale are grand themes and eu logies -Boston Globe Warm hearted...Frazier is a remarkably meti culous and tasteful writer...Thirteen Moons is a worthy successor to the first novel and a highly readable book. -Seattle Times T o Charles Frazier, words are playthings. Like very few other cont emporary American novelists, he puts them together in such a way that they can transform an otherwise mundane moment, scene or con versation into one that is transcendent....No sophomore jinx here . Reading a Frazier novel is like listening to a fine symphony. H e's a maestro whose pen is his baton, beckoning the best that eac h sentence has to offer. And just as you wouldn't rush a conducto r, you should take the time to savor Frazier's work, to take in e ach thought, to relish the turn of phrase or the imagery of a cra ftsman. -Denver Post Two for two...Here is a book brimming with vivid, adventurous incident...Charles Frazier set himself a daunt ing challenge with this book. He set out to write a historical no vel that was retrospective and meditative, yet still vibrant and immediate with life. Thirteen Moons succeeds in classy fashion. - Raleigh News & Observer If current fiction is anything to go by, it's hard for a novelist to make Santayana's puzzle pieces - lyr icism, comedy, tragedy - fit together, as they do in real life an d real history. Frazier has done it...Thirteen Moons makes you fe el that change that happened so long before our own time, and mak es you mourn it. -Newsday Thirteen Moons is a fitting successor to Cold Mountain...fans of Frazier's debut will be cheered to dis cover that the new book is another compulsively readable work of historical fiction. -St. Louis Post-Dispatch If there is any dou bt that Frazier is an incredibly gifted storyteller - and not jus t a lucky name or a one-hit wonder - it will be put to rest with the publication of Thirteen Moons. Within 10 pages, this long-awa ited new novel bears the reader swiftly out of the waking world i nto its own imagined universe like nothing else published this ye ar. -Minneapolis Star Tribune Forget the sophomore jinx. Frazier demonstrates that Cold Mountain was no one-hit wonder with this fully realized historical novel again set in the South....Again, Frazier shows himself a master of landscape and language, both of ten fresh and surprising in his telling. -Seattle Post-Intelligen cer Thirteen Moons contains achingly beautiful passages of snowf alls, fog-wrapped rivers and moonlit forests. There are ribald an d hilarious events, too, including a description of the Cherokee Booger Dance that is a masterpiece of satire. The love affair bet ween Cooper and Claire threads its way through this pseudo-histor ic epic like a brilliant, scarlet ribbon. There is also a melanch oly refrain that celebrates a wondrous time and place that is gon e and will never return. -Smoky Mountain News Fiction of the hig hest order...Another indelible character. Charles Frazier has a k nack for them. -Charlotte Observer What a story!... Frazier's cr eation, Will Cooper, is utterly charismatic....Frazier's genius l ies in his ability to convey emotions that feel pure and genuine. ..It was worth the wait. -Dayton Daily News From the Hardcover e dition. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edit ion of this title. About the Author Charles Frazier grew up in t he mountains of North Carolina. Cold Mountain, his highly acclaim ed first novel, was an international bestseller, and won the Nati onal Book Award in 1997. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From The Washington Post Cha rles Frazier is an intelligent, occasionally witty author who wri tes incredibly long-winded, sentimental, soporific novels. His fi rst, Cold Mountain, published nine years ago, was the most unlike ly bestseller since Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All (19 89), by his fellow North Carolinian Allan Gurganus, and the most improbable National Book Award winner since John O'Hara's Ten Nor th Frederick half a century ago. Now Frazier weighs in with Thirt een Moons, which manages to be even longer and even duller than C old Mountain. No doubt it too will be a huge bestseller. That F razier's success parallels Gurganus's is purely coincidental, but it's just about impossible not to remark upon the oddness of the coincidence. As a rule, the American book-buying public has only a limited appetite for Southern-fried fiction, yet Frazier and G urganus somehow have tapped into it. They deal (Frazier somewhat more skillfully than Gurganus) in what a North Carolina newspaper editor of my long-ago acquaintance used to call shucks-'n'-nubbi ns, which is loosely defined as tiny ears of corn. Frazier's corn is anything but tiny -- more than 400 pages of it in the case of Thirteen Moons -- but it's corn all the same. Reading Frazier is like sitting by the cracker barrel for hour after hour and lis tening to an amiable but impossibly gassy guy who talks real slow , says I reckon a whole lot and never shuts up. His novels have l ittle structure and not much in the way of plot; in Cold Mountain he gave us the wounded Confederate soldier, Inman, limping his w ay back to his gal, Ada, in the North Carolina mountains, and in Thirteen Moons it's the ancient Will Cooper reminiscing about his nine decades and his Cherokee buddies and the gal, Claire, whom he managed to love and lose. He is a far less interesting man tha n Frazier obviously believes him to be, which is a little surpris ing because he's based on a very interesting historical figure. Will Cooper is not William Holland Thomas, Frazier says in an au thor's note, and then coyly adds, though they do share some DNA. Actually, they share a whole lot. William Holland Thomas was born in North Carolina in 1805, was almost immediately orphaned, work ed as a boy in a general store in the mountains, taught himself t he law, worked to secure the right of the Cherokees to remain in their territory as Andrew Jackson sought to drive all Indians wes tward, served in the state senate and organized a company of Cher okee soldiers on behalf of the Confederacy. All of which is exact ly what Will Cooper does in Thirteen Moons; where fact and fictio n part is that Thomas married and had children while Cooper remai ns single, and Thomas's mental condition gradually deteriorated a fter the Civil War while Cooper remains alert, if rather tired, t o the novel's end. In other words, in Thirteen Moons Frazier es sentially has fictionalized history. Nothing wrong with that: hap pens all the time. But the novel provides less imagination and in vention than readers are likely to expect; it reads more like a d utifully researched (check out that author's note) graduate schoo l paper than a work of fiction. It also is chock-a-block with hom espun aphorisms that aren't exactly full of original wisdom: One of the few welcome lessons age teaches is that only desire trumps time, and Grief is a haunting, and Writers can tell any lie that leaps into their heads, and Our worst pain is confined within ou r own skin, and We are not made strong enough to stand up against endle, Random House, 2006, 2.5, McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi, 2.5<
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McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi, 2.5<
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1991, ISBN: 0071008705
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1991, ISBN: 0071008705
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The Royal Institute of Navigation.. Very Good. 1977. Soft Cover. 8vo The Royal Institute of Navigation. Diagrams, Photographs. Operational Experience in the Use of Omega. Navigation in the Gulf of Suez. A Survey of Marine Traffic in the Southern North Sea. A Method for Estimating the Voyage Distribution of Marine Traffic. Some Mathematical Aspects of Air Traffic Systems. The Dissemination of Navigational Information. The Fully Automatic Radar Plotter in the Context of Some Past Collisions-II. A Horizontal Radar Display. The First Navigation of Torres Strait. Safety of Navigation Under Sail FORUM A Case of Random Collision Probabilities. Inertial Navigation. The Role of Lighting in Aids to Marine Navigation'. A Polar Compass. The Conception and Development of Weir's Diagram. ., The Royal Institute of Navigation., 1977, 3, Dell. Good. 4.17 x 0.95 x 6.86 inches. Paperback. 2008. 368 pages. Cover worn.<br>Book 5 in the New York Times and #1 int ernationally bestselling Midnight Breed vampire romance series B ound by blood, addicted to danger, they'll enter the darkest--and most erotic--place of all. A warrior trained in bullets and bla des, Renata cannot be bested by any man--vampire or mortal. But h er most powerful weapon is her extraordinary psychic ability--a g ift both rare and deadly. Now a stranger threatens her hard-won i ndependence--a golden-haired vampire who lures her into a realm o f darkness...and pleasure beyond imagining. A combat-loving adr enaline junkie, Nikolai dispenses his own justice to enemies of t he Breed--and his latest quarry is a ruthless assassin. One woman stands in his way: the seductive, cool-as-ice bodyguard, Renata. But Renata's powers are put to the test when a loved one, a chil d, is threatened and she's forced to turn to Niko for help. As th e two join forces, as desire fans the flames of a deeper hunger, Renata's life is under siege by a man who offers the exquisite pl easure of a blood bond--and a passion that could save or doom the m both forever.... Editorial Reviews Review Well-written and be autifully plotted, with intriguingly complex characters, it's a t hrill ride from the opening scenes . . . Fans get ready, this ser ies just gets better and better! --Fresh Fiction From the Author The Midnight Breed Series reading order: A Touch of Midnight (p requel novella - free ebook) Kiss of Midnight Kiss of Crimson Mid night Awakening Midnight Rising Veil of Midnight Ashes of Midnigh t Shades of Midnight Taken by Midnight Deeper Than Midnight A Tas te of Midnight (novella, ebook only) Darker After Midnight The Mi dnight Breed Series Companion Edge of Dawn Marked by Midnight (no vella) Crave the Night Tempted by Midnight (novella) Bound to Dar kness Stroke of Midnight (novella) Defy the Dawn (Spring 2016) Mi dnight Untamed (October 2016) ...and more to come! Also by Lara Adrian: Phoenix Code Romantic Suspense Series (with Tina Folsom) Cut and Run Hide and Seek Masters of Seduction Paranormal Roman ce Series Merciless: House of Gravori Priceless: House of Ebarron To get notified of new releases and to be eligible for subscrib ers-only giveaways and exclusive content, be sure to visit Lara's website and sign up for the newsletter! About the Author Lara A drian is the New York Times and #1 internationally bestselling au thor of the Midnight Breed vampire romance series (Random House) and seven award-winning, newly reissued historical romances, prev iously released under the pen name Tina St. John--now available f or Kindle and other ebook devices. To keep up to date with all o f Lara's upcoming books and to be eligible for special promotions and giveaways, visit Lara's website and sign up for her private email newsletter. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One On stage in the cavernous jazz club below Montreal's street level, a crimson-lipped singer drawled into th e microphone about the cruelty of love. Although her sultry voice was pleasant enough, the lyrics about blood and pain and pleasur e clearly heartfelt, Nikolai wasn't listening. He wondered if she knew-if any of the dozens of humans packed into the intimate clu b knew-that they were sharing breathing space with vampires. The two young females sucking down pink martinis in the dark corner banquette sure as hell didn't know it. They were sandwiched betw een four such individuals, a group of slick, leather-clad males w ho were chatting them up-without much success-and trying to act l ike their bloodthirsty eyes hadn't been permanently fixed on the women's jugulars for the past fifteen minutes straight. Even thou gh it was clear that the vampires were negotiating hard to get th e humans out of the club with them, they weren't making much prog ress with their prospective blood Hosts. Nikolai scoffed under h is breath. Amateurs. He paid for the beer he'd left untouched o n the bar and headed at an easy stroll toward the corner table. A s he approached, he watched the two human females scoot out of th e booth on unsteady legs. Giggling, they stumbled for the restroo ms together, disappearing down a dim, crowded hallway off the mai n room. Nikolai sat down at the table in a negligent sprawl. Ev ening, ladies. The four vampires stared at him in silence, insta ntly recognizing their own kind. Niko lifted one of the tall, lip stick-stained martini glasses to his nose and sniffed at the dreg s of the fruity concoction. He winced, pushing the offending drin k aside. Humans, he drawled in a low voice. How can they stomach that shit? A wary silence fell over the table as Nikolai's glan ce traveled among the obviously young, obviously civilian Breed m ales. The largest of the four cleared his throat as he looked at Niko, his instincts no doubt picking up on the fact that Niko was n't local, and he was a far cry from civilized. The youth adopte d something he probably thought was a hardass look and jerked his soul-patched chin toward the restroom corridor. We saw them firs t, he murmured. The women. We saw them first. He cleared his thro at again, like he was waiting for his trio of wingmen to back him up. None did. We got here first, man. When the females come back to the table, they're gonna be leaving with us. Nikolai chuckle d at the young male's shaky attempt to stake his territory. You r eally think there'd be any contest if I was here to poach your ga me? Relax. I'm not interested in that. I'm looking for informatio n. He'd been through a similar song-and-dance twice already toni ght at other clubs, seeking out the places where members of the B reed tended to gather and hunt for blood, looking for someone who could point him toward a vampire elder named Sergei Yakut. It w asn't easy finding someone who didn't want to be found, especiall y a secretive, nomadic individual like Yakut. He was in Montreal, that much Nikolai was sure of. He'd spoken to the reclusive vamp ire by phone as recently as a couple of weeks earlier, when he'd tracked Yakut down to inform him of a threat that seemed aimed at the Breed's most powerful, rarest members-the twenty or so indiv iduals still in existence who were born of the first generation. Someone was targeting Gen Ones for extinction. Several had been slain within the past month, and for Niko and his brothers in arm s back in Boston-a small cadre of highly trained, highly lethal w arriors known as the Order-the business of rooting out and shutti ng down the elusive Gen One assassins was mission critical. For t hat, the Order had decided to contact all of the known Gen Ones r emaining in the Breed population and enlist their cooperation. S ergei Yakut had been less than enthusiastic to get involved. He f eared no one, and he had his own personal clan to protect him. He 'd declined the Order's invitation to come to Boston and talk, so Nikolai had been dispatched to Montreal to persuade him. Once Ya kut was made aware of the scope of the current threat-the stunnin g truth of what the Order and all of the Breed were now up agains t-Nikolai was certain the Gen One would be willing to come on boa rd. First he had to find the cagey son of a bitch. So far his i nquiries around the city had turned up nothing. Patience wasn't e xactly his strong suit, but he had all night, and he'd keep searc hing. Sooner or later, someone might give him the answer he was l ooking for. And if he kept coming up dry, maybe if he asked enoug h questions, Sergei Yakut would come looking for him instead. I need to find someone, Nikolai told the four Breed youths. A vampi re out of Russia. Siberia, to be exact. That where you're from? asked the soul-patched mouthpiece of the group. He'd evidently pi cked up on the slight tinge of an accent that Nikolai hadn't lost in the long years he'd been living in the States with the Order. Niko let his glacial blue eyes speak to his own origins. Do you know this individual? No, man. I don't know him. Two other hea ds shook in immediate denial, but the last of the four youths, th e sullen one who was slouched low in the booth, shot an anxious l ook up at Nikolai from across the table. Niko caught that tellin g gaze and held it. What about you? Any idea who I'm talking abou t? At first, he didn't think the vampire was going to answer. Hoo ded eyes held his in silence, then, finally, the kid lifted one s houlder in a shrug and exhaled a curse. Sergei Yakut, he murmured . The name was hardly audible, but Nikolai heard it. And from th e periphery of his vision, he noticed that an ebony-haired woman seated at the bar nearby heard it too. He could tell she had from the sudden rigidity of her spine beneath her long-sleeved black top and from the way her head snapped briefly to the side as thou gh pulled there by the power of that name alone. You know him? N ikolai asked the Breed male, while keeping the brunette at the ba r well within his sights. I know of him, that's all. He doesn't live in the Darkhavens, said the youth, referring to the secured communities that housed most of the Breed civilian populations th roughout North America and Europe. Dude's one nasty mofo from wha t I've heard. Yeah, he was, Nikolai acknowledged inwardly. Any i dea where I might find him? No. You sure about that? Niko asked , watching as the woman at the bar slid off her stool and prepare d to leave. She still had more than half a cocktail in her glass, but at the mere mention of Yakut's name, she seemed suddenly in a big hurry to get out of the place. The Breed youth shook his h ead. I don't know where to find the dude. Don't know why anyone w ould willingly look for him either, unless you got some kind of d eath wish. Nikolai glanced over his shoulder as the tall brunett e started edging her way through the crowd gathered near the bar. On impulse, she turned to look at him then, her jade-green gaze piercing beneath the fringe of dark lashes and the glossy swing o f her sleek, chin-length bob. There was a note of fear in her eye s as she stared back at him, a naked fear she didn't even attempt to hide. I'll be damned, Niko muttered. She knew something abo ut Sergei Yakut. Something more than just a passing knowledge, h e was guessing. That startled, panicked look as she turned and br oke for an escape said it all. Nikolai took off after her. He we aved through the thicket of humans filling the club, his eyes tra ined on the silky black hair of his quarry. The female was quick, as fleet and agile as a gazelle, her dark clothes and hair letti ng her practically disappear into her surroundings. But Niko was Breed, and there was no human in existence who could outrun one of his kind. She ducked out the club door and made a fast right o nto the street outside. Nikolai followed. She must have sensed hi m hard on her heels because she pivoted her head around to gauge his pursuit and those pale green eyes locked on to him like laser s. She ran faster now, turning the corner at the end of the bloc k. Not two seconds later, Niko was there too. He grinned as he ca ught sight of her a few yards ahead of him. The alley she'd enter ed between two tall brick buildings was narrow and dark-a dead en d sealed off by a dented metal Dumpster and a chain-link fence th at climbed some ten feet up from the ground. The woman spun arou nd on the spiked heels of her black boots, panting hard, eyes tra ined on him, watching his every move. Nikolai took a few steps i nto the lightless alley, then paused, his hands held benevolently out to his sides. It's okay, he told her. No need to run. I just want to talk to you. She stared in silence. I want to ask you about Sergei Yakut. She swallowed visibly, her smooth white thro at flexing. You know him, don't you. The edge of her mouth qui rked only a fraction, but enough to tell him that he was correct- she was familiar with the reclusive Gen One. Whether she could le ad Niko to him was another matter. Right now, she was his best, p ossibly his only, hope. Tell me where he is. I need to find him. At her sides, her hands balled into fists. Her feet were braced slightly apart as if she were prepared to bolt. Niko saw her gla nce subtly toward a battered door to her left. She lunged for it . Niko hissed a curse and flew after her with all the speed he p ossessed. By the time she'd thrown the door open on its groaning hinges, Nikolai was standing in front of her at the threshold, bl ocking her path into the darkness on the other side. He chuckled at the ease of it. I said there's no need to run, he said, shrug ging lightly as she backed a step away from him. He let the door fall closed behind him as he followed her slow retreat into the a lley. Jesus, she was breathtaking. He'd only gotten a glimpse of her in the club, but now, standing just a couple of feet from he r, he realized that she was absolutely stunning. Tall and lean, w illowy beneath her fitted black clothing, with flawless milk-whit e skin and luminous almond-shaped eyes. Her heart-shaped face was a mesmerizing combination of strength and softness, her beauty e qual parts light and dark. Nikolai knew he was gaping, but damn i f he could help it. Talk to me, he said. Tell me your name. He reached for her, an easy, nonthreatening move of his hand. He sen sed the jolt of adrenaline that shot into her bloodstream-he coul d smell the citrusy tang of it in the air, in fact-but he didn't see the roundhouse kick coming at him until he took the sharp hee l of her boot squarely in his chest. Goddamn. He rocked back, m ore surprised than unfooted. It was all the break she needed. Th e woman leapt for the door again, this time managing to disappear into the darkened building before Niko could wheel around and st op her. He gave chase, thundering in behind her. The place was e mpty, just a lot of naked concrete beneath his feet, bare bricks and exposed rafters all around him. Some fleeting sense of forebo ding prickled at the back of his neck as he raced deeper into the darkness, but the bulk of his attention was focused on the femal e standing in the center of the vacant space. She stared him down as he approached, every muscle in her slim body seeming tensed f or attack. Nikolai held that sharp stare as he drew up in front of her. I'm not going to hurt you. I know. She smiled, just a sl ight curve of her lips. You won't get that chance. Her voice was velvety smooth, but the glint in her eyes took on a cold edge. W ithout warning, Niko fel, Dell, 2008, 2.5, Anchor Books. Very Good. 19 x 13cm. Paperback. 2003. 353 pages. <br>NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNER ? NATIONAL BESTSELLER ? An astonishing novel that traces the lives of a Scottish family over a decade as they confront the joys and longings, fulfillment s and betrayals of love in all its guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, travels to Gre ece, where he falls for a young American artist and reflects on t he complicated truth about his marriage.... Six years later, ag ain in June, Paul's death draws his three grown sons and their fa milies back to their ancestral home. Fenno, the eldest, a wry, in trospective gay man, narrates the events of this unforeseen reuni on. Far from his straitlaced expatriate life as a bookseller in G reenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of revelations tha t threaten his carefully crafted defenses.... Four years farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Long Island sho re brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artist who once c aptivated his father. Now pregnant, Fern must weigh her guilt abo ut the past against her wishes for the future and decide what fam ily means to her. In prose rich with compassion and wit, Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love's redemptive powers. Ed itorial Reviews From The New Yorker This enormously accomplished début novel is a triptych that spans three summers, across a dec ade, in the disparate lives of the McLeod family. The widowed fat her, a newspaper publisher who maintains the family manse in Scot land, is chary, dogged, and deceptively mild. Fenno, the eldest s on, runs an upscale bookshop in the West Village, and his most in timate relationship--aside from almost anonymous grapplings with a career house-sitter named Tony--is with a parrot called Felicit y. One of Fenno's younger brothers is a Paris chef whose wife tur ns out pretty daughters like so many brioches; the other is a vet erinarian whose wife wants Fenno to help them have a baby. Glass is interested in how risky love is for some people, and she write s so well that what might seem like farce is rich, absorbing, and full of life. Copyright ® 2005 The New Yorker Review Enormous ly accomplished....rich, absorbing, and full of life. -The New Yo rker A warm, wise debut. . . . Three Junes marks a blessed event for readers of literary fiction everywhere.-San Francisco Chroni cle Julia Glass's talent sends chills up my spine; Three Junes i s a marvel.-Richard Russo, author of Empire Falls Three Junes al most threatens to burst with all the life it contains. Glass's ab ility to illuminate and deepen the mysteries of her characters' l ives is extraordinary. - Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours 'Three Junes' brilliantly rescues, then refurbishes, the traditi onal plot-driven novel. . . Glass has written a generous book abo ut family expectations-but also about happiness. - The New York T imes Book Review Gorgeous. . .'Three Junes' goes after the big i ssues without a trace of fustiness and gives us a memorable hero. - Los Angeles Times Book Review 'Three Junes' is a novel that b ursts with the lives of its characters. They move into our hearts , taking up permanent residence, the newest members of the reader 's family of choice.-Times-Picayune Fiercely realized. . .luxuri ant in its emotional comprehension and the idea, or promise, that anything might happen.-Boston Globe Radiant...an intimate liter ary triptych of lives pulled together and torn apart.-Chicago Tri bune Sophisticated . . . Engrossing . . . Catches the surprisin g twists and turns in family relationships, amid love, loss, hope and regret.-Seattle Post-Intelligencer The sort of sparkling d ebut that marks a writer as one to watch. -Daily News The fluid , evolving nature of family history is at the heart of this assur ed first novel.-Time Out New York This first novel treats family ties, erotic longing, small children and prolonged deaths from A IDS and cancer with a subtlety that grows from scrupulous unsenti mentality.-Newsday Formidable. . . The traditional novel of soci al relations is very much alive in Three Junes. Virginia Woolf an d Elizabeth Bowen, among other exemplars, would surely approve.-K irkus Reviews Brimming with a marvelous cast of intricate charac ters set in an assortment of scintillating backdrops, Glass's phi losophically introspective novel is highly intelligent and well-w ritten.-Booklist Review Enormously accomplished....rich, absorbi ng, and full of life. -The New Yorker A warm, wise debut. . . . Three Junes marks a blessed event for readers of literary fiction everywhere.-San Francisco Chronicle Julia Glass's talent sends chills up my spine; Three Junes is a marvel.-Richard Russo, autho r of Empire Falls Three Junes almost threatens to burst with all the life it contains. Glass's ability to illuminate and deepen t he mysteries of her characters' lives is extraordinary. - Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours 'Three Junes' brilliantly rescu es, then refurbishes, the traditional plot-driven novel. . . Glas s has written a generous book about family expectations-but also about happiness. - The New York Times Book Review Gorgeous. . .' Three Junes' goes after the big issues without a trace of fustine ss and gives us a memorable hero. - Los Angeles Times Book Review 'Three Junes' is a novel that bursts with the lives of its char acters. They move into our hearts, taking up permanent residence, the newest members of the reader's family of choice.-Times-Picay une Fiercely realized. . .luxuriant in its emotional comprehensi on and the idea, or promise, that anything might happen.-Boston G lobe Radiant...an intimate literary triptych of lives pulled tog ether and torn apart.-Chicago Tribune Sophisticated . . . Engro ssing . . . Catches the surprising twists and turns in family rel ationships, amid love, loss, hope and regret.-Seattle Post-Intell igencer The sort of sparkling debut that marks a writer as one to watch. -Daily News The fluid, evolving nature of family hist ory is at the heart of this assured first novel.-Time Out New Yor k This first novel treats family ties, erotic longing, small chi ldren and prolonged deaths from AIDS and cancer with a subtlety t hat grows from scrupulous unsentimentality.-Newsday Formidable. . . The traditional novel of social relations is very much alive in Three Junes. Virginia Woolf and Elizabeth Bowen, among other e xemplars, would surely approve.-Kirkus Reviews Brimming with a m arvelous cast of intricate characters set in an assortment of sci ntillating backdrops, Glass's philosophically introspective novel is highly intelligent and well-written.-Booklist From the Insid e Flap An astonishing first novel that traces the lives of a Scot tish family over a decade as they confront the joys and longings, fulfillments and betrayals of love in all its guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, tr avels to Greece, where he falls for a young American artist and r eflects on the complicated truth about his marriage. . ..Six year s later, again in June, Paul?s death draws his three grown sons a nd their families back to their ancestral home. Fenno, the eldest , a wry, introspective gay man, narrates the events of this unfor eseen reunion. Far from his straitlaced expatriate life as a book seller in Greenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of reve lations that threaten his carefully crafted defenses. . .. Four y ears farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Lon g Island shore brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artis t who once captivated his father. Now pregnant, Fern must weigh h er guilt about the past against her wishes for the future and dec ide what family means to her. In prose rich with compassion and w it,Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love?s redemptive po wers. From the Back Cover An astonishing first novel that traces the lives of a Scottish family over a decade as they confront th e joys and longings, fulfillments and betrayals of love in all it s guises. In June of 1989 Paul McLeod, a newspaper publisher and recent widower, travels to Greece, where he falls for a young Am erican artist and reflects on the complicated truth about his mar riage. . ..Six years later, again in June, Paul's death draws his three grown sons and their families back to their ancestral home . Fenno, the eldest, a wry, introspective gay man, narrates the e vents of this unforeseen reunion. Far from his straitlaced expatr iate life as a bookseller in Greenwich Village, Fenno is stunned by a series of revelations that threaten his carefully crafted de fenses. . .. Four years farther on, in yet another June, a chance meeting on the Long Island shore brings Fenno together with Fern Olitsky, the artist who once captivated his father. Now pregnant , Fern must weigh her guilt about the past against her wishes for the future and decide what family means to her. In prose rich wi th compassion and wit, Three Junes paints a haunting portrait of love's redemptive powers. About the Author Julia Glass is the a uthor of the best-selling Three Junes, winner of the 2002 Nationa l Book Award for Fiction; her previous novels include, most recen tly, And the Dark Sacred Night and The Widower's Tale. A teacher of fiction and a recipient of fellowships from the National Endow ment for the Arts, the New York Foundation for the Arts, and the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, Glass lives with her fami ly in Marblehead, Massachusetts. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permis sion. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 Paul chose greece for its p redictable whiteness: the blanching heat by day, the rush of star s at night, the glint of the lime-washed houses crowding its coas t. Blinding, searing, somnolent, fossilized Greece. Joining a to ur-that was the gamble, because Paul is not a gregarious sort. He dreads fund-raisers and drinks parties, all occasions at which h e must give an account of himself to people he will never see aga in. Yet there are advantages to the company of strangers. You can tell them whatever you please: no lies perhaps, but no affecting truths. Paul does not fabricate well (though once, foolishly, he believed that he could), and the single truth he's offered these random companions-that recently he lost his wife-brought down a flurry of theatrical condolence. (A hand on his at the breakfast table in Athens, the very first day: Time, time, and more time. L et Monsignor Time do his tedious, devious work. Marjorie, a breat hy schoolmistress from Devon.) Not counting Jack, they are ten. Paul is one of three men; the other two, Ray and Solly, are appen ded to wives. And then, besides Marjorie, there are two pairs of women traveling together, in their seventies at least: a surprisi ngly spry quartet who carry oversize binoculars with which they o gle everything and everyone, at appallingly close range. Seeing t he sights, they wear identical, brand-new hiking boots; to the gr oup's communal dinners, cork-soled sandals with white crocheted t ops. Paul thinks of them as the quadruplets. In the beginning, t here was an all-around well-mannered effort to mingle, but then, sure as sedimentation, the two married couples fell together and the quadruplets reverted more or less to themselves. Only Marjori e, trained by profession to dole out affection equally, continues to treat everyone like a new friend, and with her as their muse, the women coddle Paul like an infant. His room always has the be st view, his seat on the boat is always in shade; the women alway s insist. The husbands treat him as though he were vaguely leprou s. Jack finds the whole thing amusing: Delightful, watching you c ringe. Jack is their guide: young and irreverent, thank God. Reve rence would send Paul over the edge. Even this far from home the re are reminders, like camera flashes or shooting pains. On the s treets, in the plazas, on the open-decked ferries, he is constant ly sighting Maureen: any tall lively blonde, any sunstruck girl w ith a touch of the brazen. German or Swedish or Dutch, there she is, again and again. Today she happens to be an American, one of two girls at a nearby table. Jack has noticed them too, Paul can tell, though both men pretend to read their shared paper-day befo re yesterday's Times. By no means beautiful, this girl, but she h as a garish spirit, a laugh she makes no effort to stifle. She we ars an eccentrically wide-brimmed hat, tied under her chin with a feathery scarf. (Miss Forties Nostalgic, Maureen would have pegg ed her. These gals think they missed some grand swinging party.) Little good the hat seems to have done her, though: she is sunbur nt geranium pink, her arms crazed with freckles. The second girl is the beauty, with perfect pale skin and thick cocoa-colored hai r; Jack will have an eye on that one. The girls talk too loudly, but Paul enjoys listening. In their midtwenties, he guesses, ten years younger than his sons. Heaven. I am telling you exquisite, says the dark-haired girl in a husky, all-knowing voice. A sensua l sort of coup de foudre. You go up on donkeys? Where? the blond e answers eagerly. This dishy farmer rents them. He looks like G iancarlo Giannini. Those soulful sad-dog eyes alone are worth the price of admission. He rides alongside and whacks them with a st ick when they get ornery. Whacks them? Oh just prods them a lit tle, for God's sake. Nothing inhumane. Listen-I'm sure the ones t hat hump olives all day really get whacked. By donkey standards, these guys live like royalty. She rattles through a large canvas satchel and pulls out a map, which she opens across the table. Th e girls lean together. Valley of the Butterflies! The blonde poi nts. Jack snorts quietly from behind his section of the Times. D on't tell the dears, but it's moths. Paul folds his section and lays it on the table. He is the owner and publisher of the Yeoman , the Dumfries-Galloway paper. When he left, he promised to call in every other day. He has called once in ten and felt grateful n ot to be needed. Paging through the news from afar, he finds hims elf tired of it all. Tired of Maggie Thatcher, her hedgehog eyes, her vacuous hair, her cotton-mouthed edicts on jobs, on taxes, o n terrorist acts. Tired of bickering over the Chunnel, over untap ped oil off the Isle of Mull. Tired of rainy foggy pewtered skies . Here, too, there are clouds, but they are inconsequential, each one benign as a bridal veil. And wind, but the wind is warm, mak ing a cheerful fuss of the awning over the tables, carrying loose napkins like birds to th, Anchor Books, 2003, 3, Random House. Good. 5.94 x 9.13 x 1.22 inches. Paperback. 2006. 422 pages. Text tanned<br>This magnificent novel by one of Americ a's finest writers is the epic of one man's remarkable journey, s et in nineteenth-century America against the background of a vani shing people and a rich way of life. At the age of twelve, under the Wind moon, Will is given a horse, a key, and a map, and sent alone into the Indian Nation to run a trading post as a bound bo y. It is during this time that he grows into a man, learning, as he does, of the raw power it takes to create a life, to find a ho me. In a card game with a white Indian named Featherstone, Will w ins - for a brief moment - a mysterious girl named Claire, and hi s passion and desire for her spans this novel. As Will's destiny intertwines with the fate of the Cherokee Indians - including a C herokee Chief named Bear - he learns how to fight and survive in the face of both nature and men, and eventually, under the Corn T assel Moon, Will begins the fight against Washington City to pres erve the Cherokee's homeland and culture. And he will come to kno w the truth behind his belief that only desire trumps time. Bri lliantly imagined, written with great power and beauty by a maste r of American fiction, Thirteen Moons is a stunning novel about a man's passion for a woman, and how loss, longing and love can sh ape a man's destiny over the many moons of a life. From the Hard cover edition. Editorial Reviews From Bookmarks Magazine Critic s voiced great expectations for Thirteen Moons, coming nearly ten years after Charles Frazier's National Book Award-winning Cold M ountain (1997). Unfortunately, this second novel fails to achieve the same uniform critical acclaim. Certainly, similarities betwe en the two books abound, including a deep appreciation for the So uthern Appalachian landscape, a protagonist embarking on a life-d efining odyssey, an elegiac tone, and swatches of excellent prose . Here, Frazier frames Will's story against America's transition from a frontier society into an industrial nation. Despite some p raise, reviewers generally agree that Thirteen Moons is an airier production (New York Times), with perhaps more clichés, less con vincing characterizations and relationships, and a less wieldy pl ot. What critics do agree on, however, is the excellent period de tail and research that makes Frazier a first-rate chronicler of A merican history. Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of t his title. From Publishers Weekly Starred Review. Once in a grea t while, all of the elements of an audio book come together to cr eate a near-perfect experience for the listener. Frazier's follow -up to his 1997 National Book Award-winner, Cold Mountain, is ano ther saga of enduring love. It's no small gift to work with great material, and Patton transforms the text into a tale that sounds as if it were meant to be read aloud. It's a story to be told by the fire over the course of a long winter, just as the narrator Will Cooper and his adoptive Cherokee father, Bear, swap yarns wh ile they are hunkered down until the end of the snow season. Patt on's voice has an unidentifiable Southern lilt, which nicely fits a novel vaguely set in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. Patto n makes the correct choice not to individualize each character's voice as this is so much Cooper's tale. Bluegrass melodies played by Ryan Scott and Christina Courtin enhance the production. The CDs have been thoughtfully designed, with the numbers circling ea ch disc like a moon. This attention to detail makes for a beautif ul production of a love story that listeners will not put down an d will want to replay. Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or una vailable edition of this title. From Booklist In one of the most anticipated novels of the current publishing season, Frazier, au thor of the widely applauded Cold Mountain (1997), remains true t o the historical fiction vein. The author's second outing finds g rounding in a timeless theme: a grand old man remembering his glo ry days. As a teenager during the James Monroe administration, Wi ll Cooper is sent off, in an indentured situation, into the wilde rness of the Indian Nation to run a trading post. From a mixed-ra ce Indian, he wins a girl with whom he will be besotted for the r est of his life, and his passion will extend into personal involv ement in Indian affairs, to the highest level of politics. Thus F razier also remains faithful to the theme of his previous novel: the odyssey, especially one man's path through trials and tribula tions to be by the side of the woman he loves. And he remains fai thful to a method that marked Cold Mountain in readers' memories: a proliferation of detail about customs and costumes, about food and recreation--pretty much what everything looked and smelled l ike. Unfortunately, for the first fourth of the book, there is to o much detail for the plot to easily bear. But, finally, the char acters are able to step out from behind this blanket of particula rs and incidentals and make the story work. Expect considerable d emand, of course. Brad Hooper Copyright © American Library Associ ation. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review Gorgeous...Thirteen Moons calls Cold Mountain to mind in its wonder at the natural w orld; its pacificist undercurrents; its dismay at the dismantling of what matters, and its convication that one love, no matter ho w tortured and inexplicable, can be life-defining...fascinating.. .vivid and alive. -Newsweek Thirteen Moons brings this vanished world thrillingly to life... One of the great Native American, an d American stories, and a great gift to all of us, from one of ou r very best writers. -Kirkus Reviews, starred review There are t hings so masterful words can't do them justice. Frazier's writing falls in that category...With Thirteen Moons, he's doing importa nt work filling in the gaps, helping restore the roots, of our kn owledge of our own history. -Asheville Citizen-Times Fascinatin g...Reading Thirteen Moons is an intoxicating experience...This i s 21st-century literary fiction at its very best. -BookPage Thi rteen Moons is rare in many ways and occupies a literary plane of such height that reviewing it is not really salient....Thirteen Moons has the power to inspire great performances from succeeding generations of writers....For those who simply value the literar y experience, Thirteen Moons will provide the immense satisfactio n of taking a literary journey of magnitude. Whether on a plane, in an office or curled in a window seat, readers who absorb Will' s story will find their own lives enriched....Thirteen Moons belo ngs to the ages. -Los Angeles Times Magical...the history lesson in Thirteen Moons is fascinating and moving...You will find much to admire and savor in Thirteen Moons. -USA Today Verdict: A po werhouse second act....a brilliant success...Frazier's second act should convince everyone that he's here to stay. It is a powerfu l, dramatic, often surprising and memorable novel. -Atlanta Journ al Constitution Thirteen Moons is a boisterous, confident novel that draws from the epic tradition... Frazier is a natural storyt eller, and throughout his picaresque tale are grand themes and eu logies -Boston Globe Warm hearted...Frazier is a remarkably meti culous and tasteful writer...Thirteen Moons is a worthy successor to the first novel and a highly readable book. -Seattle Times T o Charles Frazier, words are playthings. Like very few other cont emporary American novelists, he puts them together in such a way that they can transform an otherwise mundane moment, scene or con versation into one that is transcendent....No sophomore jinx here . Reading a Frazier novel is like listening to a fine symphony. H e's a maestro whose pen is his baton, beckoning the best that eac h sentence has to offer. And just as you wouldn't rush a conducto r, you should take the time to savor Frazier's work, to take in e ach thought, to relish the turn of phrase or the imagery of a cra ftsman. -Denver Post Two for two...Here is a book brimming with vivid, adventurous incident...Charles Frazier set himself a daunt ing challenge with this book. He set out to write a historical no vel that was retrospective and meditative, yet still vibrant and immediate with life. Thirteen Moons succeeds in classy fashion. - Raleigh News & Observer If current fiction is anything to go by, it's hard for a novelist to make Santayana's puzzle pieces - lyr icism, comedy, tragedy - fit together, as they do in real life an d real history. Frazier has done it...Thirteen Moons makes you fe el that change that happened so long before our own time, and mak es you mourn it. -Newsday Thirteen Moons is a fitting successor to Cold Mountain...fans of Frazier's debut will be cheered to dis cover that the new book is another compulsively readable work of historical fiction. -St. Louis Post-Dispatch If there is any dou bt that Frazier is an incredibly gifted storyteller - and not jus t a lucky name or a one-hit wonder - it will be put to rest with the publication of Thirteen Moons. Within 10 pages, this long-awa ited new novel bears the reader swiftly out of the waking world i nto its own imagined universe like nothing else published this ye ar. -Minneapolis Star Tribune Forget the sophomore jinx. Frazier demonstrates that Cold Mountain was no one-hit wonder with this fully realized historical novel again set in the South....Again, Frazier shows himself a master of landscape and language, both of ten fresh and surprising in his telling. -Seattle Post-Intelligen cer Thirteen Moons contains achingly beautiful passages of snowf alls, fog-wrapped rivers and moonlit forests. There are ribald an d hilarious events, too, including a description of the Cherokee Booger Dance that is a masterpiece of satire. The love affair bet ween Cooper and Claire threads its way through this pseudo-histor ic epic like a brilliant, scarlet ribbon. There is also a melanch oly refrain that celebrates a wondrous time and place that is gon e and will never return. -Smoky Mountain News Fiction of the hig hest order...Another indelible character. Charles Frazier has a k nack for them. -Charlotte Observer What a story!... Frazier's cr eation, Will Cooper, is utterly charismatic....Frazier's genius l ies in his ability to convey emotions that feel pure and genuine. ..It was worth the wait. -Dayton Daily News From the Hardcover e dition. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edit ion of this title. About the Author Charles Frazier grew up in t he mountains of North Carolina. Cold Mountain, his highly acclaim ed first novel, was an international bestseller, and won the Nati onal Book Award in 1997. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From The Washington Post Cha rles Frazier is an intelligent, occasionally witty author who wri tes incredibly long-winded, sentimental, soporific novels. His fi rst, Cold Mountain, published nine years ago, was the most unlike ly bestseller since Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All (19 89), by his fellow North Carolinian Allan Gurganus, and the most improbable National Book Award winner since John O'Hara's Ten Nor th Frederick half a century ago. Now Frazier weighs in with Thirt een Moons, which manages to be even longer and even duller than C old Mountain. No doubt it too will be a huge bestseller. That F razier's success parallels Gurganus's is purely coincidental, but it's just about impossible not to remark upon the oddness of the coincidence. As a rule, the American book-buying public has only a limited appetite for Southern-fried fiction, yet Frazier and G urganus somehow have tapped into it. They deal (Frazier somewhat more skillfully than Gurganus) in what a North Carolina newspaper editor of my long-ago acquaintance used to call shucks-'n'-nubbi ns, which is loosely defined as tiny ears of corn. Frazier's corn is anything but tiny -- more than 400 pages of it in the case of Thirteen Moons -- but it's corn all the same. Reading Frazier is like sitting by the cracker barrel for hour after hour and lis tening to an amiable but impossibly gassy guy who talks real slow , says I reckon a whole lot and never shuts up. His novels have l ittle structure and not much in the way of plot; in Cold Mountain he gave us the wounded Confederate soldier, Inman, limping his w ay back to his gal, Ada, in the North Carolina mountains, and in Thirteen Moons it's the ancient Will Cooper reminiscing about his nine decades and his Cherokee buddies and the gal, Claire, whom he managed to love and lose. He is a far less interesting man tha n Frazier obviously believes him to be, which is a little surpris ing because he's based on a very interesting historical figure. Will Cooper is not William Holland Thomas, Frazier says in an au thor's note, and then coyly adds, though they do share some DNA. Actually, they share a whole lot. William Holland Thomas was born in North Carolina in 1805, was almost immediately orphaned, work ed as a boy in a general store in the mountains, taught himself t he law, worked to secure the right of the Cherokees to remain in their territory as Andrew Jackson sought to drive all Indians wes tward, served in the state senate and organized a company of Cher okee soldiers on behalf of the Confederacy. All of which is exact ly what Will Cooper does in Thirteen Moons; where fact and fictio n part is that Thomas married and had children while Cooper remai ns single, and Thomas's mental condition gradually deteriorated a fter the Civil War while Cooper remains alert, if rather tired, t o the novel's end. In other words, in Thirteen Moons Frazier es sentially has fictionalized history. Nothing wrong with that: hap pens all the time. But the novel provides less imagination and in vention than readers are likely to expect; it reads more like a d utifully researched (check out that author's note) graduate schoo l paper than a work of fiction. It also is chock-a-block with hom espun aphorisms that aren't exactly full of original wisdom: One of the few welcome lessons age teaches is that only desire trumps time, and Grief is a haunting, and Writers can tell any lie that leaps into their heads, and Our worst pain is confined within ou r own skin, and We are not made strong enough to stand up against endle, Random House, 2006, 2.5, McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi, 2.5<
ISBN: 9780071008709
McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text.… Mehr…
McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi, 2.5<
1991
ISBN: 0071008705
[EAN: 9780071008709], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [PU: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi], Book is in Used-VeryGood condition. Pages and cover are clean and intact. Used items may not inc… Mehr…
[EAN: 9780071008709], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [PU: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi], Book is in Used-VeryGood condition. Pages and cover are clean and intact. Used items may not include supplementary materials such as CDs or access codes. May show signs of minor shelf wear and contain very limited notes and highlighting., Books<
1991, ISBN: 0071008705
[EAN: 9780071008709], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [PU: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi], May have limited writing in cover pages. Pages are unmarked. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Les… Mehr…
[EAN: 9780071008709], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [PU: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi], May have limited writing in cover pages. Pages are unmarked. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 2.05, Books<
1991, ISBN: 0071008705
[EAN: 9780071008709], Neubuch, [PU: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Edi], Books
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EAN (ISBN-13): 9780071008709
ISBN (ISBN-10): 0071008705
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Erscheinungsjahr: 1991
Herausgeber: McGraw-Hill Education (ISE Editions)
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ISBN/EAN: 9780071008709
ISBN - alternative Schreibweisen:
0-07-100870-5, 978-0-07-100870-9
Alternative Schreibweisen und verwandte Suchbegriffe:
Autor des Buches: papoulis, athanasios, athanasio
Titel des Buches: probability random variables and stochastic processes
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