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Rivers of London: Moon over Soho - Aaronovitch, Ben
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Aaronovitch, Ben:
Rivers of London: Moon over Soho - signiertes Exemplar

2011, ISBN: 9780345524591

Taschenbuch

[ED: Taschenbuch / Paperback], [PU: Random House US], KURZE BESCHREIBUNG/ANMERKUNGEN: After the death of a part-time jazz drummer, London constable and sorcerer's apprentice Peter Grant investigates a series of supernatural deaths in and around Soho that are linked to Peter's dad--a talented trumpet player named Richard "Lord" Grant. Original. AUSFÜHRLICHERE BESCHREIBUNG: BODY AND SOUL The song. That's what London constable and sorcerer's apprentice Peter Grant first notices when he examines the corpse of Cyrus Wilkins, part-time jazz drummer and full-time accountant, who dropped dead of a heart attack while playing a gig at Soho's 606 Club. The notes of the old jazz standard are rising from the body-a sure sign that something about the man's death was not at all natural but instead supernatural. Body and soul-they're also what Peter will risk as he investigates a pattern of similar deaths in and around Soho. With the help of his superior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, and the assistance of beautiful jazz aficionado Simone Fitzwilliam, Peter will uncover a deadly magical menace-one that leads right to his own doorstep and to the squandered promise of a young jazz musician: a talented trumpet player named Richard "Lord" Grant-otherwise known as Peter's dear old dad. BUCHBESPRECHUNG: "A terrific follow-up to [Aaronovitch's] novel Midnight Riot , the debut of Peter Grant and his own weird London. Grant continues to learn the ropes of magical London, a process that takes him on a trip through Nightingale's haunted past and into some of the most interesting places you won't find on any official tour. Aaronovitch makes the story sing, building momentum until the ending is literally breathless." --SF Revu "A realistic modern-day police procedural populated by increasingly solid characters and written in the same consistently witty style as the first Peter Grant novel [ Midnight Riot ]. . . . One of the most entertaining books I've read in a long time." --Fantasy Literature AUSZUG AUS DEM BUCH: chapter 1 Body and Soul It's a sad fact of modern life that if you drive long enough, sooner or later you must leave London behind. If you drive northeast up the A12 you eventually come to Colchester, Britain's first Roman capital and the first city to be burned down by that redheaded chavette from Norfolk known as Boudicca. I knew all this because I'd been reading the Annals of Tacitus as part of my Latin training. He's surprisingly sympathetic to the revolting Brits and scathing about the unpreparedness of the Roman generals who thought more of what was agreeable than expedient. The classically educated chinless wonders who run the British army obviously took this admonition to heart because Col?chester is now the home of their toughest soldiers-the parachute regiment. Having spent many a Saturday night as a probationary PC wrestling squaddie in Leicester Square, I made sure I stayed on the main road and bypassed the city altogether. Beyond Colchester I turned south and, with the help of the GPS on my phone, got myself onto the B1029 heading down the wedged-shaped bit of dry ground jammed between the River Colne and Flag Creek. At the end of the road lay Brightlingsea-lining the coast, so Leslie had always told me, like a collection of rubbish stranded at the high-water mark. Actually I didn't think it was that bad. It had been raining in London but after Colchester I'd driven into clear blue skies and the sun lit up the rows of well-kept Victorian terraces that ran down to the sea. Chez May was easy to spot, a 1970s brick-built fake Edwardian cottage that had been carriage-lamped and pebble-dashed within an inch of its life. The front door was flanked on one side by a hanging basket full of blue flowers and on the other by the house number inscribed on a ceramic plate in the shape of a sailing yacht. I paused and checked the garden there were gnomes loitering near the ornamental birdbath. I took a breath and rang the doorbell. There was an immediate chorus of female yelling from inside. Through the reproduction stained-glass window in the front door I could just make out blurry figures running back and forth at the far end of the hall. Somebody yelled, "It's your boyfriend!" which earned a shush and a sotto voce reprimand from someone else. A white blur marched up the hallway until it filled the view through the window from side to side. I took a step backward and the door opened. It was Henry May-Leslie's father. He was a large man, and driving big trucks and hauling heavy gear had given him broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Too many transport café breakfasts and standing his round at the pub had put a tire around his waist. He had a square face and had dealt with a receding hairline by shaving his hair down to a brown fuzz. His eyes were blue and clever. Leslie had gotten her eyes from her dad. Having four daughters meant that he had parental looming down to a fine art, and I fought the urge to ask whether Leslie could come out and play. "Hello, Peter," he said. "Mr. May," I said. He made no effort to unblock the doorway nor did he invite me in. "Leslie will be out in a minute," he said. "She all right?" I asked. It was a stupid question and Leslie's dad didn't embarrass either of us by trying to answer it. I heard someone coming down the stairs and braced myself. There'd been severe damage to the maxilla, nasal spine, ramus, and mandible, Dr. Walid had said. And although much of the underlying muscle and tendons had survived, the surgeons at UCH had been unable to save much of the skin surface. They'd put in a temporary scaffold to allow her to breathe and ingest food, and there was a chance that she might benefit from a partial face transplant-if they could find a suitable donor. Given that what was left of her jaw was currently held together by a filigree of hypoallergenic metal, talking was out of the question. Dr. Wal BIOGRAFIE Aaronovitch, Ben: Ben Aaronovitch wurde in London geboren und lebt auch heute noch dort. Er arbeitet als Buchhändler, wenn er gerade keine Romane oder Fernsehdrehbücher schreibt (er hat u. a. Drehbücher zu der englischen Kult-TV-Serie "Doctor Who" verfasst)., DE, [SC: 3.70], Neuware, gewerbliches Angebot, H: 174mm, 304, [GW: 158g], Selbstabholung und Barzahlung, PayPal, offene Rechnung, Banküberweisung, Interntationaler Versand

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Rivers of London: Moon over Soho - Aaronovitch, Ben
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Aaronovitch, Ben:
Rivers of London: Moon over Soho - signiertes Exemplar

2011, ISBN: 9780345524591

Taschenbuch

[ED: Taschenbuch / Paperback], [PU: Random House US], KURZE BESCHREIBUNG/ANMERKUNGEN: After the death of a part-time jazz drummer, London constable and sorcerer's apprentice Peter Grant investigates a series of supernatural deaths in and around Soho that are linked to Peter's dad--a talented trumpet player named Richard "Lord" Grant. Original. AUSFÜHRLICHERE BESCHREIBUNG: BODY AND SOUL The song. That's what London constable and sorcerer's apprentice Peter Grant first notices when he examines the corpse of Cyrus Wilkins, part-time jazz drummer and full-time accountant, who dropped dead of a heart attack while playing a gig at Soho's 606 Club. The notes of the old jazz standard are rising from the body-a sure sign that something about the man's death was not at all natural but instead supernatural. Body and soul-they're also what Peter will risk as he investigates a pattern of similar deaths in and around Soho. With the help of his superior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, and the assistance of beautiful jazz aficionado Simone Fitzwilliam, Peter will uncover a deadly magical menace-one that leads right to his own doorstep and to the squandered promise of a young jazz musician: a talented trumpet player named Richard "Lord" Grant-otherwise known as Peter's dear old dad. BUCHBESPRECHUNG: "A terrific follow-up to [Aaronovitch's] novel Midnight Riot , the debut of Peter Grant and his own weird London. Grant continues to learn the ropes of magical London, a process that takes him on a trip through Nightingale's haunted past and into some of the most interesting places you won't find on any official tour. Aaronovitch makes the story sing, building momentum until the ending is literally breathless." --SF Revu "A realistic modern-day police procedural populated by increasingly solid characters and written in the same consistently witty style as the first Peter Grant novel [ Midnight Riot ]. . . . One of the most entertaining books I've read in a long time." --Fantasy Literature AUSZUG AUS DEM BUCH: chapter 1 Body and Soul It's a sad fact of modern life that if you drive long enough, sooner or later you must leave London behind. If you drive northeast up the A12 you eventually come to Colchester, Britain's first Roman capital and the first city to be burned down by that redheaded chavette from Norfolk known as Boudicca. I knew all this because I'd been reading the Annals of Tacitus as part of my Latin training. He's surprisingly sympathetic to the revolting Brits and scathing about the unpreparedness of the Roman generals who thought more of what was agreeable than expedient. The classically educated chinless wonders who run the British army obviously took this admonition to heart because Col?chester is now the home of their toughest soldiers-the parachute regiment. Having spent many a Saturday night as a probationary PC wrestling squaddie in Leicester Square, I made sure I stayed on the main road and bypassed the city altogether. Beyond Colchester I turned south and, with the help of the GPS on my phone, got myself onto the B1029 heading down the wedged-shaped bit of dry ground jammed between the River Colne and Flag Creek. At the end of the road lay Brightlingsea-lining the coast, so Leslie had always told me, like a collection of rubbish stranded at the high-water mark. Actually I didn't think it was that bad. It had been raining in London but after Colchester I'd driven into clear blue skies and the sun lit up the rows of well-kept Victorian terraces that ran down to the sea. Chez May was easy to spot, a 1970s brick-built fake Edwardian cottage that had been carriage-lamped and pebble-dashed within an inch of its life. The front door was flanked on one side by a hanging basket full of blue flowers and on the other by the house number inscribed on a ceramic plate in the shape of a sailing yacht. I paused and checked the garden there were gnomes loitering near the ornamental birdbath. I took a breath and rang the doorbell. There was an immediate chorus of female yelling from inside. Through the reproduction stained-glass window in the front door I could just make out blurry figures running back and forth at the far end of the hall. Somebody yelled, "It's your boyfriend!" which earned a shush and a sotto voce reprimand from someone else. A white blur marched up the hallway until it filled the view through the window from side to side. I took a step backward and the door opened. It was Henry May-Leslie's father. He was a large man, and driving big trucks and hauling heavy gear had given him broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. Too many transport café breakfasts and standing his round at the pub had put a tire around his waist. He had a square face and had dealt with a receding hairline by shaving his hair down to a brown fuzz. His eyes were blue and clever. Leslie had gotten her eyes from her dad. Having four daughters meant that he had parental looming down to a fine art, and I fought the urge to ask whether Leslie could come out and play. "Hello, Peter," he said. "Mr. May," I said. He made no effort to unblock the doorway nor did he invite me in. "Leslie will be out in a minute," he said. "She all right?" I asked. It was a stupid question and Leslie's dad didn't embarrass either of us by trying to answer it. I heard someone coming down the stairs and braced myself. There'd been severe damage to the maxilla, nasal spine, ramus, and mandible, Dr. Walid had said. And although much of the underlying muscle and tendons had survived, the surgeons at UCH had been unable to save much of the skin surface. They'd put in a temporary scaffold to allow her to breathe and ingest food, and there was a chance that she might benefit from a partial face transplant-if they could find a suitable donor. Given that what was left of her jaw was currently held together by a filigree of hypoallergenic metal, talking was out of the question. Dr. Wal BIOGRAFIE Aaronovitch, Ben: Ben Aaronovitch wurde in London geboren und lebt auch heute noch dort. Er arbeitet als Buchhändler, wenn er gerade keine Romane oder Fernsehdrehbücher schreibt (er hat u. a. Drehbücher zu der englischen Kult-TV-Serie "Doctor Who" verfasst)., DE, [SC: 0.00], Neuware, gewerbliches Angebot, H: 174mm, 304, [GW: 158g], Selbstabholung und Barzahlung, PayPal, offene Rechnung, Banküberweisung, Interntationaler Versand

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Moon Over Soho (Peter Grant) - Ben Aaronovitch
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Ben Aaronovitch:
Moon Over Soho (Peter Grant) - Taschenbuch

2011, ISBN: 0345524594

[SR: 60324], Mass Market Paperback, [EAN: 9780345524591], Del Rey, Del Rey, Book, [PU: Del Rey], 2011-03-01, Del Rey, BODY AND SOUL   The song. That’s what London constable and sorcerer’s apprentice Peter Grant first notices when he examines the corpse of Cyrus Wilkins, part-time jazz drummer and full-time accountant, who dropped dead of a heart attack while playing a gig at Soho’s 606 Club. The notes of the old jazz standard are rising from the body—a sure sign that something about the man’s death was not at all natural but instead supernatural.Body and soul—they’re also what Peter will risk as he investigates a pattern of similar deaths in and around Soho. With the help of his superior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, and the assistance of beautiful jazz aficionado Simone Fitzwilliam, Peter will uncover a deadly magical menace—one that leads right to his own doorstep and to the squandered promise of a young jazz musician: a talented trumpet player named Richard “Lord” Grant—, 10482, Police Procedurals, 10457, Mystery, 18, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books, 9536087011, Witches & Wizards, 9536081011, Supernatural, 10457, Mystery, 18, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books, 3559310011, Paranormal & Urban, 16190, Fantasy, 25, Science Fiction & Fantasy, 1000, Subjects, 283155, Books

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Moon over Soho - Ben Aaronovitch
Vergriffenes Buch, derzeit bei uns nicht verfügbar.
(*)
Ben Aaronovitch:
Moon over Soho - Taschenbuch

ISBN: 9780345524591

[ED: Taschenbuch], [PU: Random House US], Neuware - BODY AND SOUL The song. That's what London constable and sorcerer's apprentice Peter Grant first notices when he examines the corpse of Cyrus Wilkins, part-time jazz drummer and full-time accountant, who dropped dead of a heart attack while playing a gig at Soho's 606 Club. The notes of the old jazz standard are rising from the body-a sure sign that something about the man's death was not at all natural but instead supernatural. Body and soul-they're also what Peter will risk as he investigates a pattern of similar deaths in and around Soho. With the help of his superior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, and the assistance of beautiful jazz aficionado Simone Fitzwilliam, Peter will uncover a deadly magical menace-one that leads right to his own doorstep and to the squandered promise of a young jazz musician: a talented trumpet player named Richard 'Lord' Grant-otherwise known as Peter's dear old dad. -, DE, [SC: 0.99], Neuware, gewerbliches Angebot, 173.990xx mm, 304, [GW: 158g], offene Rechnung (Vorkasse vorbehalten), Selbstabholung und Barzahlung, PayPal, Banküberweisung, Interntationaler Versand

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Moon Over Soho (Peter Grant) - Aaronovitch, Ben
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(*)
Aaronovitch, Ben:
Moon Over Soho (Peter Grant) - Taschenbuch

ISBN: 9780345524591

ID: 639058955

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Moon Over Soho
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Rookie cop and magical apprentice Peter Grant from "Midnight Riot" returns inthis urban fantasy tale of magic and murder, set to a jazz beat. Original.

Detailangaben zum Buch - Moon Over Soho


EAN (ISBN-13): 9780345524591
ISBN (ISBN-10): 0345524594
Gebundene Ausgabe
Taschenbuch
Erscheinungsjahr: 2011
Herausgeber: Random House Inc.
288 Seiten
Gewicht: 0,153 kg
Sprache: eng/Englisch

Buch in der Datenbank seit 11.06.2008 14:04:39
Buch zuletzt gefunden am 09.08.2017 00:09:33
ISBN/EAN: 0345524594

ISBN - alternative Schreibweisen:
0-345-52459-4, 978-0-345-52459-1


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