2009, ISBN: 9780297844464

edizione con copertina rigida

Swanton Abbott, United Kingdom: Butterscotch Mammoth, Millpond Concepts Ltd, 2001. Book. As New. Trade Paperback. First Edition.. New, unread, still encased in shrink-wrap. The impish Brt… Altro …

Swanton Abbott, United Kingdom: Butterscotch Mammoth, Millpond Concepts Ltd, 2001. Book. As New. Trade Paperback. First Edition.. New, unread, still encased in shrink-wrap. The impish Brtish author describes his gay-oriented humor anthology this way: "This is a collection of non-heterosexually orientated oddments and giggly vignettes. It will appeal to those who have occasionally sat on the moon and poked fun at the human race, to those who love and respect our politicians (the best that money can buy, all of whom have passed rigorous self-selection processes), and to those who notice the daily abrasions of established assumptions (just for a change, could all those who do fit the established paradigm please do all they can to make themselves known.). The collection opens with the evolution of mankind (Trevor the Axe Grinder') and closes with the true cause of this paradoxical anomaly (Ooh, Bless Me!'): a couple of cavemen go out of their way to incite hostility by inventing caves, the wheel and the Labrador dog, while Adam and Eva join the more divorces than marriages' set after carelessly propagating an entire species for which they have made no domestic provision (incidental children). Cucumber-sandwiched between these covers is a representative confection of stock-broking cows, mooning Martians, huntin'-shootin'-fishin' New Labour MPs, bread-baking Orang-utans, frock-enabled space-captains and humanist Beelzebubs." This engaging book is seldom seen in the U.S. Runningduck is the nom de plume of Ian Hutson, who also uses the moniker of Revolting Peasant in his occasional commerce. Size: 8vo -- 8.5 In. Tall., Butterscotch Mammoth, Millpond Concepts Ltd, 2001, 5, Bantam. Very Good. 9.64 x 1.64 x 9.52 inches. Hardcover. 2001. 512 pages. <br>The second volume of the astonishing Earth's Child ren® series--over 34 million copies sold worldwide In The Valley of Horses, Ayla, the unforgettable heroine of The Clan of the Ca ve Bear, sets out on her own odyssey of discovery away from the n urturing adoptive family and friends of the Clan. She is in searc h of others like herself and in search of love. Driven by her int elligence, her curiosity, and her destiny, she explores where the Clan never dared to travel and encounters a hostile world of awe some mystery, glacial cold, terrifying beasts, and intense loneli ness in which survival itself is a constant battle. Sharing a hi dden valley with a herd of steppe horses, Ayla finds a unique fri endship with animals as vulnerable as herself and ingeniously dis covers the complex skills needed to survive--skills no Clan membe r was ever able to master. But none of her experiences prepares h er for the emotional turmoil she feels when she rescues a young m an--the first of the Others she has seen--from almost certain dea th. Torn between her desire for human companionship and her fear of the unknown Others, she struggles against her deep attraction to the handsome Jondalar. It is Jondalar who teaches her the mean ing of true friendship and love. Once again, Jean M. Auel uses her powerful storytelling talents and her thorough understanding of human nature to take us on an amazing journey into the primord ial past, re-creating the prehistoric world as it truly might hav e been in this compelling and timeless new epic of the dawn of ci vilization. Editorial Reviews Review Shiningly intense... Sheer storytelling skill holds the reader in a powerful spell. -- Publ ishers Weekly From the Inside Flap olume of the astonishing Eart hÂ's Children® series?over 34 million copies sold worldwide In T he Valley of Horses, Ayla, the unforgettable heroine of The Clan of the Cave Bear, sets out on her own odyssey of discovery away f rom the nurturing adoptive family and friends of the Clan. She is in search of others like herself and in search of love. Driven b y her intelligence, her curiosity, and her destiny, she explores where the Clan never dared to travel and encounters a hostile wor ld of awesome mystery, glacial cold, terrifying beasts, and inten se loneliness in which survival itself is a constant battle. Sha ring a hidden valley with a herd of steppe horses, Ayla finds a u nique friendship with animals as vulnerable as herself and ingeni ously discovers the complex skills needed to survive?skills no Cl an member was ever able to master. But none of her experiences pr epares her for the emotional turmoil she feels when she rescues a youn From the Back Cover The second volume of the astonishing E arth's Children(R) series--over 34 million copies sold worldwide In The Valley of Horses, Ayla, the unforgettable heroine of The Clan of the Cave Bear, sets out on her own odyssey of discovery a way from the nurturing adoptive family and friends of the Clan. S he is in search of others like herself and in search of love. Dri ven by her intelligence, her curiosity, and her destiny, she expl ores where the Clan never dared to travel and encounters a hostil e world of awesome mystery, glacial cold, terrifying beasts, and intense loneliness in which survival itself is a constant battle. Sharing a hidden valley with a herd of steppe horses, Ayla find s a unique friendship with animals as vulnerable as herself and i ngeniously discovers the complex skills needed to survive--skills no Clan member was ever able to master. But none of her experien ces prepares her for the emotional turmoil she feels when she res cues a young man--the first of the Others she has seen--from almo st certain death. Torn between her desire for human companionship and her fear of the unknown Others, she struggles against her de ep attraction to the handsome Jondalar. It is Jondalar who teache s her the meaning of true friendship and love. Once again, Jean M. Auel uses her powerful storytelling talents and her thorough u nderstanding of human nature to take us on an amazing journey int o the primordial past, re-creating the prehistoric world as it tr uly might have been in this compelling and timeless new epic of t he dawn of civilization. About the Author JEAN M. AUEL's Earth's Children® series includes The Clan of the Cave Bear, The Valley of Horses, The Mammoth Hunters, The Plains of Passage, and the fo rthcoming The Shelters of Stone. She and her husband, Ray, live i n Oregon, where she is working on the sixth volume of the series. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapte r 1 She was dead. What did it matter if icy needles of freezing rain flayed her skin raw. The young woman squinted into the wind, pulling her wolverine hood closer. Violent gusts whipped her bea rskin wrap against her legs. Were those trees ahead? She thought she remembered seeing a scraggly row of woody vegetation on the horizon earlier, and wished she had paid more attention, or that her memory was as good as that of the rest of the Clan. She still thought of herself as Clan, though she never had been, and now s he was dead. She bowed her head and leaned into the wind. The st orm had come upon her suddenly, hurtling down from the north, and she was desperate for shelter. But she was a long way from the c ave, and unfamiliar with the territory. The moon had gone through a full cycle of phases since she left, but she still had no idea where she was going. North, to the mainland beyond the peninsul a, that was all she knew. The night Iza died, she had told her to leave, told her Broud would find a way to hurt her when he becam e leader. Iza had been right. Broud had hurt her, worse than she ever imagined. He had no good reason to take Durc away from me, Ayla thought. He's my son. Broud had no good reason to curse me, either. He's the one who made the spirits angry. He's the one who brought on the earthquake. At least she knew what to expect this time. But it happened so fast that even the clan had taken a whi le to accept it, to close her out of their sight. But they couldn 't stop Durc from seeing her, though she was dead to the rest of the clan. Broud had cursed her on impulse born of anger. When Br un had cursed her, the first time, he had prepared them. He'd had reason; they knew he had to do it, and he'd given her a chance. She raised her head to another icy blast, and noticed it was twi light. It would be dark soon, and her feet were numb. Frigid slus h was soaking through her leather foot coverings despite the insu lating sedge grass she had stuffed in them. She was relieved to s ee a dwarfed and twisted pine. Trees were rare on the steppes; t hey grew only where there was moisture enough to sustain them. A double row of pines, birches, or willows, sculptured by wind into stunted asymmetrical shapes, usually marked a watercourse. They were a welcome sight in dry seasons in a land where groundwater w as scarce. When storms howled down the open plains from the great northern glacier, they offered protection, scant though it was. A few more steps brought the young woman to the edge of a stream , though only a narrow channel of water flowed between the ice-lo cked banks. She turned west to follow it downstream, looking for denser growth that would give more shelter than the nearby scrub. She plodded ahead, her hood pulled forward, but looked up when the wind ceased abruptly. Across the stream a low bluff guarded t he opposite bank. The sedge grass did nothing to warm her feet wh en the icy water seeped in crossing over, but she was grateful to be out of the wind. The dirt wall of the bank had caved in at on e place, leaving an overhang thatched with tangled grass roots an d matted old growth, and a fairly dry spot beneath. She untied t he waterlogged thongs that held her carrying basket to her back a nd shrugged it off, then took out a heavy aurochs hide and a stur dy branch stripped of twigs. She set up a low, sloping tent, held down with rocks and driftwood logs. The branch held it open in f ront. She loosened the thongs of her hand coverings with her tee th. They were roughly circular pieces of fur-lined leather, gathe red at the wrist, with a slit cut in the palms to poke her thumb or hand through when she wanted to grasp something. Her foot cove rings were made the same way, without the slit, and she struggled to untie the swollen leather laces wrapped around her ankles. Sh e was careful to salvage the wet sedge grass when she removed the m. She laid her bearskin wrap on the ground inside the tent, wet side down, put the sedge grass and the hand and foot coverings o n top, then crawled in feet first. She wrapped the fur around her and pulled the carrying basket up to block the opening. She rubb ed her cold feet, and, when her damp fur nest warmed, she curled up and closed her eyes. Winter was gasping its last frozen breat h, reluctantly giving way to spring, but the youthful season was a capricious flirt. Amid frigid reminders of glacial chill, tanta lizing hints of warmth promised summer heat. In an impulsive shif t, the storm broke during the night. Ayla woke to reflections of a dazzling sun glinting from patches of snow and ice along the b anks, and to a sky deep and radiantly blue. Ragged tatters of clo uds streamed far to the south. She crawled out of her tent and ra ced barefoot to the water's edge with her waterbag. Ignoring the icy cold, she filled the leather-covered bladder, took a deep dri nk, and ran back. After relieving herself beside the bank, she cr awled inside her fur to warm up again. She didn't stay long. She was too eager to be out, now that the danger of the storm had pa ssed and the sunshine beckoned. She wrapped on foot coverings tha t had been dried by body heat and tied the bearskin over the fur- lined leather wrap she had slept in. She took a piece of dried me at out of the basket, packed the tent and hand coverings, and wen t on her way, chewing on the meat. The stream's course was fairl y straight and slightly downhill, and the going was easy. Ayla hu mmed a tuneless monotone under her breath. She saw flecks of gree n on the brush near the banks. An occasional small flower, bravel y poking its miniature face through melting patches of snow, made her smile. A chunk of ice broke loose, bumped along beside her f or a pace, then raced ahead, carried by the swift current. Sprin g had begun when she left the cave, but it was warmer at the sout hern end of the peninsula and the season started earlier. The mou ntain range was a barrier to the harsh glacial winds, and maritim e breezes off the inland sea warmed and watered the narrow coasta l strip and south-facing slopes into a temperate climate. The st eppes were colder. She had skirted the eastern end of the range, but, as she traveled northward across the open prairie, the seaso n advanced at the same pace. It never seemed to get warmer than e arly spring. The raucous squeals of terns drew her attention. Sh e glanced up and saw several of the small gull-like birds wheelin g and gliding effortlessly with wings outstretched. The sea must be close, she thought. Birds should be nesting now--that means eg gs. She stepped up her pace. And maybe mussels on the rocks, and clams, and limpets, and tide pools full of anemones. The sun was approaching its zenith when she reached a protected bay formed b y the southern coast of the mainland and the northwestern flank o f the peninsula. She had finally reached the broad throat connect ing the tongue of land to the continent. Ayla shrugged off her c arrying basket and climbed a craggy outcrop that soared high abov e the surrounding landscape. Pounding surf had cleaved jagged chu nks of the massive rock on the seaward side. A bevy of dovekies a nd terns scolded with angry squawks when she collected eggs. She broke open several and swallowed them, still warm from the nest. She tucked several more into a fold of her wrap before climbing d own. She took off her footwear and waded into the surf to wash s and from mussels pried loose from the rock at water level. Flower like sea anemones drew in mock petals when she reached to pluck t hem from the shallow pools left stranded by the receding tide. Bu t these had a color and shape that were unfamiliar. She rounded o ut her lunch with a few clams instead, dug from the sand where a slight depression gave them away. She used no fire, enjoying her gifts raw from the sea. Surfeited on eggs and seafood, the young woman relaxed at the foot of the high rock, then scaled it again to get a better view of the coast and mainland. Hugging her knee s, she sat on top of the monolith and looked out across the bay. The wind in her face carried a breath of the rich life within the sea. The southern coast of the continent curved in a gentle arc toward the west. Beyond a narrow fringe of trees, she could see a broad land of steppes, no different from the cold prairie of th e peninsula, but not a single sign of human habitation. There it is, she thought, the mainland beyond the peninsula. Where do I g o now, Iza? You said Others were there, but I don't see anyone at all. As she faced the vast empty land, Ayla's thoughts drifted b ack to the dreadful night Iza died, three years before. You are not Clan, Ayla. You were born to the Others; you belong with them . You must leave, child, find your own kind. Leave! Where would I go, Iza? I don't know the Others, I wouldn't know where to look for them. North, Ayla. Go north. There are many of them north o f here, on the mainland beyond the peninsula. You cannot stay her e. Broud will find a way to hurt you. Go and find them, my child. Find your own people, find your own mate. She hadn't left then, she couldn't. Now, she had no choice. She had to find the Others , there was no one else. She could never go back; she would never see her son again. Tears streamed down Ayla's face. She hadn't cried before. Her life had been at stake when she left, and grief was a luxury she could not afford. But once the barrier was brea ched, there was no holding back. Durc . . . my baby, she sobbed, burrowing her face in her hands. Why did Broud take you away fro m me? She cried for her son, and for the clan she had left behin d; she cried for Iza, the only mother she could remember; and she cried for her loneliness and fear of the unknown world awaiting her. But not for Creb, who had loved her as his own, not yet. Tha t sorrow was too fresh; she wasn't ready to face it. When the te ars had run their course, Ayla found hers, Bantam, 2001, 3, -: Sidgwick & Jackson Limited, 2009. None. Hardback. Very Good. -. Richard Hammond has had a longstanding love affair, bordering on the obsessive some might say, with caravans. He has researched their origins and history, celebrity owners, the uses to which they have been put, their place in history, names, jargon, games with, things to do in, recipes to cook in and future of. He also gives sound practical advice on how to use them to best advantage, race them (ensuring first they are of the non-static variety), and how to destroy them in interesting ways (of which he has much experience - 80 or so at the last count). An essential guide for any owner or prospective owner or indeed anyone with even a passing interest in caravans, of whatever sex or age, or race, or inclination. Or even perhaps someone with apparently no interest in caravans who might have a previously latent interest aroused. Some even talk in hushed tones of a parallel universe, though he has no personal experience of this, yet. Anything is possible., Sidgwick & Jackson Limited, 2009, 3<

2016, ISBN: 9780297844464

London et al: Bloomsbury USA. Very Good. 8.07(w) x 8.17(h) x 0.86(d). Hardcover. 2016. 160 pages.<br>A perfect gift book for all cycling fans and beauti fully illustrated by renowne… Altro …

London et al: Bloomsbury USA. Very Good. 8.07(w) x 8.17(h) x 0.86(d). Hardcover. 2016. 160 pages.<br>A perfect gift book for all cycling fans and beauti fully illustrated by renowned cycling artist, Mark Fairhurst, P i s for Peloton is packed with fun facts from the amazing to the bi zarre, and stories about the greatest riders in the sport. Ever w anted to know the difference between your flamme rouge and your l anterne rouge? This is the book for you-or the cycling obsessive in your life. Editorial Reviews This is a 'must have' reference book for fans (and would-be fans) of the sport. -VeloVoices Mar vellously beautiful and well-illustrated book makes the vast worl d of cycling easy to comprehend in a single reading. A great col lection of cycling facts from the amazing to the bizarre, as well as stories about some of the greatest riders in the sport. -Bike World News Ever since the first Tour de France, cycle racing ha s captured the imagination of millions of people. The drama, pass ion, pain and glory has been stuff of legends. The beauty of cycl ing is that it knows no barriers. It's classless. Whether you rid e a secondhand bicycle or the latest machine featuring the pinnac le in technical development, you are part of an ever expanding mo vement that is ecologically low impact and good for you! It inspi res. Mark Fairhurst's art carries that inspiration. Humorous, tho ught provoking, encouraging; his work in this book is a joy to se e and have. Remember, P is for Peloton. Get on your bike and RIDE ! -Sir David Brailsford, Team Principal, Team Sky - From the Publ isher ., Bloomsbury USA, 2016, 3, -: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2009. Hardback. Very Good. -. Richard Hammond has had a longstanding love affair, bordering on the obsessive some might say, with caravans. He has researched their origins and history, celebrity owners, the uses to which they have been put, their place in history, names, jargon, games with, things to do in, recipes to cook in and future of. He also gives sound practical advice on how to use them to best advantage, race them (ensuring first they are of the non-static variety), and how to destroy them in interesting ways (of which he has much experience - 80 or so at the last count). An essential guide for any owner or prospective owner or indeed anyone with even a passing interest in caravans, of whatever sex or age, or race, or inclination. Or even perhaps someone with apparently no interest in caravans who might have a previously latent interest aroused. Some even talk in hushed tones of a parallel universe, though he has no personal experience of this, yet. Anything is possible., Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2009, 3<

ISBN: 9780297844464

Orion Publishing. Used - Good. Ships from UK in 48 hours or less (usually same day). Your purchase helps support Sri Lankan Children's Charity 'The Rainbow Centre'. Ex-libra… Altro …

Orion Publishing. Used - Good. Ships from UK in 48 hours or less (usually same day). Your purchase helps support Sri Lankan Children's Charity 'The Rainbow Centre'. Ex-library, so some stamps and wear, but in good overall condition. 100% money back guarantee. We are a world class secondhand bookstore based in Hertfordshire, United Kingdom and specialize in high quality textbooks across an enormous variety of subjects. We aim to provide a vast range of textbooks, rare and collectible books at a great price. Our donations to The Rainbow Centre have helped provide an education and a safe haven to hundreds of children who live in appalling conditions. We provide a 100% money back guarantee and are dedicated to providing our customers with the highest standards of service in the bookselling industry., Orion Publishing, 2.5<

2009, ISBN: 9780297844464

W&N, 2009-05-28. Hardcover. Very Good. Book is in very good condition. All pages are intact and unmarked., W&N, 2009-05-28, 3

ISBN: 9780297844464

Hardback. Very Good., 3