2007, ISBN: 9780151421695

Edition reliée

Penguin Books. Good. 8.2 x 5.1 x 1.2 inches. Paperback. 2006. 414 pages. Cover worn.<br>A #1 New York Times Bestseller! Funny, insightful, illuminating . . . --The Boston Globe T… Plus…

Penguin Books. Good. 8.2 x 5.1 x 1.2 inches. Paperback. 2006. 414 pages. Cover worn.<br>A #1 New York Times Bestseller! Funny, insightful, illuminating . . . --The Boston Globe Twelve years ago, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil exploded into a monu mental success, residing a record-breaking four years on the New York Times bestseller list (longer than any work of fiction or no nfiction had before) and turning John Berendt into a household na me. The City of Falling Angels is Berendt's first book since Midn ight, and it immediately reminds one what all the fuss was about. Turning to the magic, mystery, and decadence of Venice, Berendt gradually reveals the truth behind a sensational fire that in 199 6 destroyed the historic Fenice opera house. Encountering a rich cast of characters, Berendt tells a tale full of atmosphere and s urprise as the stories build, one after the other, ultimately com ing together to portray a world as finely drawn as a still-life p ainting. Editorial Reviews Review Funny, insightful, illuminati ng . . . [Venice] reveals itself, slowly, discreetly, under Beren dt's gentle but persistent prying. --The Boston Globe Berendt ha s given us something uniquely different . . . . Thanks to [his] s plendid cityportrait, even those of us far from Venice can marvel . --The Wall Street Journal About the Author John Berendt has be en a columnist for Esquire and the editor of New York magazine, a nd is the author of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, whic h was a finalist for the 1995 Pulitzer Prize in general nonfictio n. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. An E vening in Venice THE AIR STILL SMELLED OF CHARCOAL when I arriv ed in Venice three days after the fire. As it happened, the timin g of my visit was purely coincidental. I had made plans, months b efore, to come to Venice for a few weeks in the off-season in ord er to enjoy the city without the crush of other tourists. If the re had been a wind Monday night, the water-taxi driver told me as we came across the lagoon from the airport, there wouldn't be a Venice to come to. How did it happen? I asked. The taxi driver shrugged. How do all these things happen? It was early February, in the middle of the peaceful lull that settles over Venice ever y year between New Year's Day and Carnival. The tourists had gone , and in their absence the Venice they inhabited had all but clos ed down. Hotel lobbies and souvenir shops stood virtually empty. Gondolas lay tethered to poles and covered in blue tarpaulin. Unb ought copies of the International Herald Tribune remained on news stand racks all day, and pigeons abandoned sparse pickings in St. Mark's Square to scavenge for crumbs in other parts of the city. Meanwhile the other Venice, the one inhabited by Venetians, was as busy as ever-the neighborhood shops, the vegetable stands, th e fish markets, the wine bars. For these few weeks, Venetians cou ld stride through their city without having to squeeze past dense clusters of slow-moving tourists. The city breathed, its pulse q uickened. Venetians had Venice all to themselves. But the atmosp here was subdued. People spoke in hushed, dazed tones of the sort one hears when there has been a sudden death in the family. The subject was on everyone's lips. Within days I had heard about it in such detail I felt as if I had been there myself. IT HAPPENED ON MONDAY EVENING, January 29, 1996. Shortly before nine o'cloc k, Archimede Seguso sat down at the dinner table and unfolded his napkin. Before joining him, his wife went into the living room t o lower the curtains, which was her long-standing evening ritual. Signora Seguso knew very well that no one could see in through t he windows, but it was her way of enfolding her family in a domes tic embrace. The Segusos lived on the third floor of Ca' Capello, a sixteenth-century house in the heart of Venice. A narrow canal wrapped around two sides of the building before flowing into the Grand Canal a short distance away. Signor Seguso waited patient ly at the table. He was eighty-six-tall, thin, his posture still erect. A fringe of wispy white hair and flaring eyebrows gave him the look of a kindly sorcerer, full of wonder and surprise. He h ad an animated face and sparkling eyes that captivated everyone w ho met him. If you happened to be in his presence for any length of time, however, your eye would eventually be drawn to his hands . They were large, muscular hands, the hands of an artisan whose work demanded physical strength. For seventy-five years, Signor Seguso had stood in front of a blazing-hot glassworks furnace-ten , twelve, eighteen hours a day-holding a heavy steel pipe in his hands, turning it to prevent the dollop of molten glass at the ot her end from drooping to one side or the other, pausing to blow i nto it to inflate the glass, then laying it across his workbench, still turning it with his left hand while, with a pair of tongs in his right hand, pulling, pinching, and coaxing the glass into the shape of graceful vases, bowls, and goblets. After all those years of turning the steel pipe hour after hour, Signor Seguso's left hand had molded itself around the pipe until it became perm anently cupped, as if the pipe were always in it. His cupped hand was the proud mark of his craft, and this was why the artist who painted his portrait some years ago had taken particular care to show the curve in his left hand. Men in the Seguso family had b een glassmakers since the fourteenth century. Archimede was the t wenty-first generation and one of the greatest of them all. He co uld sculpt heavy pieces out of solid glass and blow vases so thin and fragile they could barely be touched. He was the first glass maker ever to see his work honored with an exhibition in the Doge 's Palace in St. Mark's Square. Tiffany sold his pieces in its Fi fth Avenue store. Archimede Seguso had been making glass since t he age of eleven, and by the time he was twenty, he had earned th e nickname Mago del Fuoco (Wizard of Fire). He no longer had the stamina to stand in front of a hot and howling furnace eighteen h ours a day, but he worked every day nonetheless, and with undimin ished pleasure. On this particular day, in fact, he had risen at his usual hour of 4:30 A.M., convinced as always that the pieces he was about to make would be more beautiful than any he had ever made before. In the living room, Signora Seguso paused to look out the window before lowering the curtain. She noticed that the air had become hazy, and she mused aloud that a winter fog had se t in. In response, Signor Seguso remarked from the other room tha t it must have come in very quickly, because he had seen the quar ter moon in a clear sky only a few minutes before. The living ro om window looked across a small canal at the back of the Fenice O pera House, thirty feet away. Rising above it in the distance, so me one hundred yards away, the theater's grand entrance wing appe ared to be shrouded in mist. Just as she started to lower the cur tain, Signora Seguso saw a flash. She thought it was lightning. T hen she saw another flash, and this time she knew it was fire. P apa! she cried out. The Fenice is on fire! Signor Seguso came qu ickly to the window. More flames flickered at the front of the th eater, illuminating what Signora Seguso had thought was mist but had in fact been smoke. She rushed to the telephone and dialed 11 5 for the fire brigade. Signor Seguso went into his bedroom and s tood at the corner window, which was even closer to the Fenice th an the living room window. Between the fire and the Segusos' hou se lay a jumble of buildings that constituted the Fenice. The par t on fire was farthest away, the chaste neoclassical entrance win g with its formal reception rooms, known collectively as the Apol lonian rooms. Then came the main body of the theater with its ela borately rococo auditorium, and finally the vast backstage area. Flaring out from both sides of the auditorium and the backstage w ere clusters of smaller, interconnected buildings like the one th at housed the scenery workshop immediately across the narrow cana l from Signor Seguso. Signora Seguso could not get through to th e fire brigade, so she dialed 112 for the police. The enormity o f what was happening outside his window stunned Signor Seguso. Th e Gran Teatro La Fenice was one of the splendors of Venice; it wa s arguably the most beautiful opera house in the world, and one o f the most significant. The Fenice had commissioned dozens of ope ras that had premiered on its stage-Verdi's La Traviata and Rigol etto, Igor Stravinsky's The Rake's Progress, Benjamin Britten's T he Turn of the Screw. For two hundred years, audiences had deligh ted in the sumptuous clarity of the Fenice's acoustics, the magni ficence of its five tiers of gilt-encrusted boxes, and the baroqu e fantasy of it all. Signor and Signora Seguso had always taken a box for the season, and over the years they had been given incre asingly desirable locations until they finally found themselves n ext to the royal box. Signora Seguso had no luck getting through to the police either, and now she was becoming frantic. She call ed upstairs to the apartment where her son Gino lived with his wi fe and their son, Antonio. Gino was still out at the Seguso glass factory in Murano. Antonio was visiting a friend near the Rialto . Signor Seguso stood silently at his bedroom window, watching a s the flames raced across the entire top floor of the entrance wi ng. He knew that, for all its storied loveliness, the Fenice was at this moment an enormous pile of exquisite kindling. Inside a t hick shell of Istrian stone lined with brick, the structure was m ade entirely of wood-wooden beams, wooden floors, wooden walls-ri chly embellished with wood carvings, sculpted stucco, and papier- mâché, all of it covered with layer upon layer of lacquer and gil t. Signor Seguso was aware, too, that the scenery workshop just a cross the canal from his house was stocked with solvents and, mos t worrisome of all, cylinders of propane gas that were used for w elding and soldering. Signora Seguso came back into the room to say she had finally spoken with the police. They already knew ab out the fire, she said. They told me we should leave the house at once. She looked over her husband's shoulder and stifled a screa m; the flames had moved closer in the short time she had been awa y from the window. They were now advancing through the four small er reception halls toward the main body of the theater, in their direction. Archimede Seguso stared into the fire with an apprais ing eye. He opened the window, and a gust of bitter-cold air rush ed in. The wind was blowing to the southwest. The Segusos were du e west of the theater, however, and Signor Seguso calculated that if the wind did not change direction or pick up strength, the fi re would advance toward the other side of the Fenice rather than in their direction. Now, Nandina, he said softly, stay calm. We' re not in any danger. The Segusos' house was only one of many bu ildings close to the Fenice. Except for Campo San Fantin, a small plaza at the front of the theater, the Fenice was hemmed in by o ld and equally flammable buildings, many of them attached to it o r separated from it by only four or five feet. This was not at al l unusual in Venice, where building space had always been at a pr emium. Seen from above, Venice resembled a jigsaw puzzle of terra -cotta rooftops. Passages between some of the buildings were so n arrow one could not walk through them with an open umbrella. It h ad become a specialty of Venetian burglars to escape from the sce ne of a crime by leaping from roof to roof. If the fire in the Fe nice were able to make the same sort of leap, it would almost cer tainly destroy a sizable swath of Venice. The Fenice itself was dark. It had been closed five months for renovations and was due to reopen in a month. The canal along its rear façade was also cl osed-empty-having been sealed off and drained so work crews could dredge the silt and sludge from it and repair its walls for the first time in forty years. The canal between the Segusos' buildin g and the back of the Fenice was now a deep, muddy gulch with a t angle of exposed pipes and a few pieces of heavy machinery sittin g in puddles at the bottom. The empty canal would make it impossi ble for fireboats to reach the Fenice, and, worse than that, it w ould deprive them of a source of water. Venetian firemen depended on water pumped directly from the canals to put out fires. The c ity had no system of fire hydrants. THE FENICE WAS NOW RINGED BY A TUMULT OF SHOUTS and running footsteps. Tenants, routed from t heir houses by the police, crossed paths with patrons coming out of the Ristorante Antico Martini. A dozen bewildered guests rolle d suitcases out of the Hotel La Fenice, asking directions to the Hotel Saturnia, where they had been told to go. Into their midst, a wild-eyed woman wearing only a nightgown came stumbling from h er house into Campo San Fantin screaming hysterically. She threw herself to the ground in front of the theater, flailing her arms and rolling on the pavement. Several waiters came out of the Anti co Martini and led her inside. Two fireboats managed to navigate to a water-filled canal a short distance from the Fenice. Their hoses were not long enough to reach around the intervening buildi ngs, however, so the firemen dragged them through the kitchen win dow at the back of the Antico Martini and out through the dining room into Campo San Fantin. They aimed their nozzles at flames bu rning furiously in a top-floor window of the theater, but the wat er pressure was too low. The arc of water barely reached the wind owsill. The fire went on leaping and taunting and sucking up grea t turbulent currents of air that set the flames snapping like bri lliant red sails in a violent wind. Several policemen struggled with the massive front door of the Fenice, but to no avail. One o f them drew his pistol and fired three shots at the lock. The doo r opened. Two firemen rushed in and disappeared into a dense whit e wall of smoke. Moments later they came running out. It's too la te, said one. It's burning like straw. The wail of sirens now fi lled the air as police and firemen raced up and down the Grand Ca nal in motorboats, spanking up huge butterfly wings of spray as t hey bounced through the wakes of other boats. About an hour after the first alarm, the city's big fire launch pulled up at the lan ding stage behind Haig's Bar. Its high-powered rigs would at last be able to pump water the two hundre, Penguin Books, 2006, 2.5, Modern Library. Very Good. 5.2 x 0.87 x 8 inches. Paperback. 2007. 416 pages. <br>A California classic . . . California, it should b e remembered, was very much the wild west, having to wait until 1 850 before it could force its way into statehood. so what tamed i t? Mr. Starr's answer is a combination of great men, great ideas and great projects.--The Economist From the age of exploration t o the age of Arnold, the Golden State's premier historian distill s the entire sweep of California's history into one splendid volu me. Kevin Starr covers it all: Spain's conquest of the native peo ples of California in the early sixteenth century and the chain o f missions that helped that country exert control over the upper part of the territory; the discovery of gold in January 1848; the incredible wealth of the Big Four railroad tycoons; the devastat ing San Francisco earthquake of 1906; the emergence of Hollywood as the world's entertainment capital and of Silicon Valley as the center of high-tech research and development; the role of labor, both organized and migrant, in key industries from agriculture t o aerospace. In a rapid-fire epic of discovery, innovation, catas trophe, and triumph, Starr gathers together everything that is mo st important, most fascinating, and most revealing about our grea test state. Praise for California [A] fast-paced and wide-rang ing history . . . [Starr] accomplishes the feat with skill, grace and verve.--Los Angeles Times Book Review Kevin Starr is one of california's greatest historians, and California is an invaluabl e contribution to our state's record and lore.--MarIa ShrIver, jo urnalist and former First Lady of California A breeze to read.- -San Francisco Editorial Reviews Review Kevin Starr is one of C alifornia's greatest historians, and California: A History is an invaluable contribution to our state's record and lore. -Maria Sh river, First Lady of California From Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo to Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Donner Party to the 1992 Los Angeles riots, Kevin Starr captures the fullness of California history in one sweeping and masterful narrative. Starr is not only the Gold en State's greatest living chronicler, he is also one of its grea test treasures. -Gregory Rodríguez, senior fellow, New America Fo undation, and contributing editor, Los Angeles Times I am honore d to recommend California: A History, this perfect distillation o f Kevin Starr's life's work. He is California's most devoted love r and most passionate advocate, our patron saint. He transforms a n already fascinating tale and imbues it with ineffable magic and grace. -Carolyn See, author of Making a Literary Life There is no more knowledgeable or insightful historian of the California d ream than Kevin Starr. -Richard Rodríguez A magisterially author itative survey of the movements-geological, political, scientific , artistic, and sociological-that have shaped California into the unique state it is today. This engrossing warts-and-all saga is told with a verve and panache that sweep the reader along. -Micha el York About the Author From 1994 to 2004 Kevin Starr served as State Librarian for California. He now teaches at the University of Southern California. His writings have earned him the Nationa l Medal of the Arts, the Centennial Medal of the Harvard Graduate School, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and election to the Society of American Historians. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rig hts reserved. 1 QUEEN CALAFIA'S ISLAND Place and First People First described in a bestseller, California entered history as a myth. In 1510 the Spanish writer Garci Ordóñez de Montalvo issue d a sequel to his 1508 prose romance Amadis de Gaula, which Monta lvo had in turn based upon a late thirteenth- to early fourteenth -century Portuguese narrative derived from French sources. Publis hed in Seville, Montalvo's Las Sergas de Esplandián (The Deeds of Esplandián) chronicled the exploits of Esplandián, son of the he ro Amadis of Gaul, at the siege of Constantinople. Among Esplandi án's allies at the siege were the Californians, a race of black A mazons under the command of Queen Calafia. California itself, acc ording to Montalvo, was an island on the right hand of the Indies . . . very close to the side of the Terrestrial Paradise, abound ing in gold and precious stones. The Californians rode griffins i nto battle and fought with golden weapons. Queen Calafia herself was very large in person, the most beautiful of all of them, of b looming years, and in her thoughts desirous of achieving great th ings, strong of limb and of great courage. Equipping a fleet, Ca lafia had sailed to Constantinople to join the other great captai ns of the world in the siege against the Turks. By the end of the story, Queen Calafia and the Californians have become Christians (which involved, one surmises, giving up their promiscuous ways and the feeding of their male offspring to their griffins), and C alafia herself marries one of Esplandián's trusted lieutenants, w ith whom she goes on to further adventures. In 1863 the Boston a ntiquarian Edward Everett Hale, author of the well-known short st ory The Man Without a Country, sent a paper to the American Antiq uarian Society in which he provided translations of key passages of Las Sergas de Esplandián and cited the prose romance as the so urce of the name California. Hale's report was in turn reported o n by The Atlantic Monthly in March 1864. Montalvo's two tales, Ha le noted, were instant bestsellers and remained so for the rest o f the sixteenth century. Not until the publication of Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra in two parts in 160 5 and 1615 were Montalvo's romances superseded in popularity. Don Quixote, furthermore, was not the only one to take these stories as literal fact. The Spanish in general had a tendency to confla te fact with fiction when it came to these prose romances. In 15 33 a party of Spanish explorers, sailing west from Mexico across an unnamed sea at the command of Hernán Cortés, conqueror of Mexi co, landed on what they believed to be an island in the recently discovered Pacific. After 1539 they began to call the place after the mythic island of California, half believing and more than fu lly hoping they would find there as well the gold and precious st ones described in Montalvo's romance, and perhaps even an Amazon or two. Not until 1539-40 did the Spanish discover their geograph ical mistake. California was a peninsula, not an island, and nort h of this peninsula--eventually called Antigua or Old California- -was a vast northern region that the Spaniards, for one reason or another, would be unable to settle for another 230 years. The A merican state of California faces the Pacific Ocean between latit ude 42 degrees north (at the border of the American state of Oreg on) and latitude 32 degrees north (at the border of the Mexican s tate of Baja California Norte). On a clear day, photographed from a satellite, California appears as a serene palette of blue, gre en, brown, white, and red. This apparent serenity, however, masks a titanic drama occurring beneath the surface, in the clash of t he two tectonic plates upon which California rests. California it self resulted from a collision of the North American and Pacific plates. Across a hundred million years, the grinding and regrindi ng of these plates against each other, their sudden detachments, their thrusts above or below each other--together with the lava f low of volcanoes, the bulldozing action of glaciers, and, later, the flow of water and the depositing of alluvial soil--created a region almost abstract in its distinct arrangements of mountain, valley, canyon, coastline, plain, and desert. As the California-b orn philosopher and historian Josiah Royce observed, there is not hing subtle about the landforms and landscapes of California. Eve rything is scaled in bold and heroic arrangements that are easily understood. Fronting more than half the shoreline of the wester n continental United States, California--all 158,693 square miles of it--offers clear-cut and confrontational topographies. First of all, there is the 1,264-mile Pacific shoreline itself. Thirty million years ago, tectonic action formed this shoreline by detac hing a great land mass from the southern edge of the Baja Califor nia peninsula, moving it northward, and attaching it back onto th e continent. At four strategic intervals--the bay of San Diego in the south, Monterey and San Francisco bays in the midregion, and Humboldt Bay in the north--this appended land mass opened itself to the sea and created four harbors. Formed as recently as thirt y thousand years ago when mountains on the shoreline collapsed an d the sea rushed in, San Francisco Bay is among the two or three finest natural harbors on the planet. Rising from this coastline , from north to south, various mountain ranges run boldly into th e Pacific. At latitude 35 degrees 30 minutes north, in the county of San Luis Obispo, these coastal mountains bifurcate into two r anges: the Transverse Ranges, veering in a southeasterly directio n into southern Kern County in the interior, and the Peninsula Ra nges, continuing southward down the coast. In the far north, the Klamath Mountains and the southern tip of the Cascades move in an easterly direction toward the Modoc Plateau on the northeastern corner. Running south from the Modoc Plateau is another, even mor e formidable mountain range, the Sierra Nevada--John Muir's Range of Light, four hundred miles long, eighty miles wide--sealing of f the eastern edge of California from the Great Basin until these mighty mountains yield to the Mojave Desert in the southeastern corner. Forty-one California mountains rise to more than ten tho usand feet. The highest--Mount Whitney--is, at 14,496 feet, the s econd highest mountain in the continental United States. Mount Sh asta in the north--rising from its plain to a height of 14,162 fe et, its crowning glaciers still grinding against each other--was once an active volcano. Nearby Mount Lassen, also a volcano, was active as recently as 1921. Thus in eons past did mountains set the stage for the essential drama of the California landscape: an interplay of heights, flatland, and coast. Coastal plains adjoin the bays of San Francisco and Monterey, and a great basin, the L os Angeles Plain, flanks the coast south of the Transverse Ranges . Four hundred and thirty miles in length, the Central Valley run s through the center of the state in two sequences, the San Joaqu in Valley to the south, the Sacramento Valley to the north. Open and sweeping as well are the moonlike Modoc Plateau in the northe astern corner of the state, the high desert Great Basin on the ea stern edge of the Sierra Nevada, the Mojave Desert in the southea st, and the Salton Trough thrusting itself up from Baja. Here it is, then: a landscape of stark contrasts, vibrant and volatile w ith the geological forces that shaped the western edge of the con tinent. Numerous fault lines--the San Andreas, the Hayward, the G arlock, the San Jacinto, the Nacimiento--crisscross the western e dge from San Francisco Bay to the Mexican border, keeping the reg ion alive with tectonic action. Within human memory--in 1857 at t he Tejon Pass in Southern California, in 1872 in the Owens Valley , in San Francisco in 1906, in Long Beach in 1933, in the San Fer nando Valley in 1971, again in the San Francisco Bay Area in 1989 , and again in the San Fernando Valley in 1994--great earthquakes shook the land, destroying lives and property. At magnitude 8.3 on the Richter scale, the San Francisco earthquake of April 18, 1 906, like the Lisbon earthquake of 1775, precipitated the destruc tion of an entire city. </div ., Modern Library, 2007, 3, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First Edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Good . 5x0x9. The title of this collection comes from a Native American shaman who, reflecting on the terrible problems brought by white colonizers, nearly forgave them all because with the settlers came horses to the North American Plains. And, indeed, in these poems we find Alice Walker seeking a saving grace even in the most difficult circumstances, and in the hearts of the most brutal oppressors. Here Walker’s attention turns toward the small moments and subliminal exchanges between lovers and enemies, even as her verse addresses concerns as vast as the choking of the planet by war and pollution. Alice Malsenior Tallulah-Kate Walker (born 1944) is an American novelist, short story writer, poet, and social activist. Over the span of her career, Walker has published seventeen novels and short story collections, twelve non-fiction works, and collections of essays and poetry. Walker has been defined as one of the key international writers’ of the 20th century. Walker made history as the first African-American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for Literature as well as the National Book Award in 1983 for her novel The Color Purple, one of the few literary books to capture the popular imagination and leave a permanent imprint. The award-winning novel served as the inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s 1985 film., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984, 2.75<

1998, ISBN: 9780151421695

New York, NY: Bantam Books, 1995 unused book / old store stock; clean, tight and square, no tears or creases, text is clean and unmarked, pages and inside covers are lightly yellowed, Ba… Plus…

New York, NY: Bantam Books, 1995 unused book / old store stock; clean, tight and square, no tears or creases, text is clean and unmarked, pages and inside covers are lightly yellowed, Bantam Books, 1995, 4, New York: Harcourt Brace & Co.. Fine copy in fine dust jacket. 1998. 1st. hardcover. 8vo, 494 pp., Features 12 short stories by Charles Johnson ., Harcourt Brace & Co., 1998, 5, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Very Good . 5x0x9. Brief gift inscription by previous owner. The title of this collection comes from a Native American shaman who, reflecting on the terrible problems brought by white colonizers, nearly forgave them all because with the settlers came horses to the North American Plains. And, indeed, in these poems we find Alice Walker seeking a saving grace even in the most difficult circumstances, and in the hearts of the most brutal oppressors. Here Walker’s attention turns toward the small moments and subliminal exchanges between lovers and enemies, even as her verse addresses concerns as vast as the choking of the planet by war and pollution. Alice Malsenior Tallulah-Kate Walker (born 1944) is an American novelist, short story writer, poet, and social activist. Over the span of her career, Walker has published seventeen novels and short story collections, twelve non-fiction works, and collections of essays and poetry. Walker has been defined as one of the key international writers’ of the 20th century. Walker made history as the first African-American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for Literature as well as the National Book Award in 1983 for her novel The Color Purple, one of the few literary books to capture the popular imagination and leave a permanent imprint. The award-winning novel served as the inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s 1985 film., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984, 3<

1985, ISBN: 9780151421695

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Very Good . 5x0x9. Brief gift inscription by previous owner. The title of this collection comes from a Native Amer… Plus…

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Very Good . 5x0x9. Brief gift inscription by previous owner. The title of this collection comes from a Native American shaman who, reflecting on the terrible problems brought by white colonizers, nearly forgave them all because with the settlers came horses to the North American Plains. And, indeed, in these poems we find Alice Walker seeking a saving grace even in the most difficult circumstances, and in the hearts of the most brutal oppressors. Here Walker’s attention turns toward the small moments and subliminal exchanges between lovers and enemies, even as her verse addresses concerns as vast as the choking of the planet by war and pollution. Alice Malsenior Tallulah-Kate Walker (born 1944) is an American novelist, short story writer, poet, and social activist. Over the span of her career, Walker has published seventeen novels and short story collections, twelve non-fiction works, and collections of essays and poetry. Walker has been defined as one of the key international writers’ of the 20th century. Walker made history as the first African-American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for Literature as well as the National Book Award in 1983 for her novel The Color Purple, one of the few literary books to capture the popular imagination and leave a permanent imprint. The award-winning novel served as the inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s 1985 film., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984, 3<

1985, ISBN: 9780151421695

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First Edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Good . 5x0x9. The title of this collection comes from a Native American shaman who, reflecting on the terrible pro… Plus…

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984. First Edition. Hardcover. Very Good/Good . 5x0x9. The title of this collection comes from a Native American shaman who, reflecting on the terrible problems brought by white colonizers, nearly forgave them all because with the settlers came horses to the North American Plains. And, indeed, in these poems we find Alice Walker seeking a saving grace even in the most difficult circumstances, and in the hearts of the most brutal oppressors. Here Walker’s attention turns toward the small moments and subliminal exchanges between lovers and enemies, even as her verse addresses concerns as vast as the choking of the planet by war and pollution. Alice Malsenior Tallulah-Kate Walker (born 1944) is an American novelist, short story writer, poet, and social activist. Over the span of her career, Walker has published seventeen novels and short story collections, twelve non-fiction works, and collections of essays and poetry. Walker has been defined as one of the key international writers’ of the 20th century. Walker made history as the first African-American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for Literature as well as the National Book Award in 1983 for her novel The Color Purple, one of the few literary books to capture the popular imagination and leave a permanent imprint. The award-winning novel served as the inspiration for Steven Spielberg’s 1985 film., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt P, 1984, 2.75<

2003, ISBN: 9780151421695

Edition reliée

David & Charles, 2003-09-26. Hardcover. Good. Book in good condition with typical reading wear to cover and spine. Scuff marks present., David & Charles, 2003-09-26, 2.5, Penguin, 1… Plus…

David & Charles, 2003-09-26. Hardcover. Good. Book in good condition with typical reading wear to cover and spine. Scuff marks present., David & Charles, 2003-09-26, 2.5, Penguin, 1949. Paper Back. Good. Good reading copy clean pages no previous owner's marks no creases. Penguin Scores II paperback 1949. Landscape paperback, Penguin, 1949, 2.5, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Hardcover. 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., Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 2.5<