2014, ISBN: 9780307957238

Hardcover

Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Poss… More...

Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 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., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2.5, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-22. paperback. Like New. 5x1x8., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-22, 5, Paperback. Like New., 5, Island Books. Good. 4.1 x 1 x 6.8 inches. Mass Market Paperback. 1999. 416 pages. Cover worn.<br>One of the best novels of the year from one of the very best writers at work today.--Rocky Mountain News The townspeople of New Iberia, Louisiana, didn't crucify Megan Flynn's father. They just didn't catch whoever pinned him to a ba rn wall with sixteen-penny nails. Decades later, Megan, now a wo rld-famous photojournalist, has come back to the bayou, looking f or cop Dave Robicheaux. It was Dave who found the body of labor l eader Jack Flynn. The sight changed the boy, shaped him as a man. And after forty years, Robicheaux is still haunted by the bizarr e unsolved slaying. Now Megan's return has stirred up the ghosts of the long-buried past, igniting a storm of violence that will rip apart lives of blacks and whites in this bayou country. And f or a good cop with bad memories, hard desire, and chilling nightm ares, the time has come to uncover the truth. Editorial Reviews Review Splendidly atmospheric...with dialogue so sharp you can s have with it.--People One of the best novels of the year from on e of the very best writers at work today.--Rocky Mountain News E ngrossing...a vivid, violent fable...James Lee Burke outshines hi mself in Sunset Limited.--Daily News (N.Y.) America's best novel ist.--The Denver Post Top-drawer work...James Lee Burke just kee ps getting better...Burke writes of the bayous, their people and their violence with electrical luminescence. The dialogue crackle s like heat lightning and the story races from conflict to confli ct. Robicheaux, a modern-day tragic hero, continues to grow as on e of crime fiction's major figures.--San Antonio Express-News Bu rke's dialogue sounds true as a tape recording; his writing about action is strong and economical. . . . Burke is a prose stylist to be reckoned with.--Los Angeles Times Book Review Burke flies miles above most contemporary crime novelists.--The Orlando Senti nel Among writers in the genre, only Tony Hillerman's novels abo ut the Navajo tribal police match Burke's ability to write evocat ively about the natural world. . . . It's hard to imagine readers not bolting it down like a steaming plate of crawfish etouffee.- -Entertainment Weekly Burke writes prose that has a pronounced s treak of poetry in it.--The New York Times James Lee Burke isn't simply a crime writer--he's the Graham Greene of the bayou.--New York Daily News If you haven't already discovered Burke's novel s, find one!--Chicago Tribune James Lee Burke can write some of the best scenes of violence in American literature. He can also t oss out a metaphor or a brief descriptive phrase that can stop a reader cold.--The Washington Post Book World It has become appar ent that not since Raymond Chandler has anyone so thoroughly rein vented the crime and mystery genre as James Lee Burke.--Jim Harri son, author of Legends of the Fall If you haven't read Burke, ge t going.--Playboy Nobody working in the genre holds us more comp ellingly than Mr. Burke, or with such style and ferocity. He stan ds all but alone in the invention of character.--The New Yorker One of our most compelling novelists.--New York Newsday Few writ ers in america can evoke a region as well as Burke.--The Philadel phia Inquirer Robicheaux is a detective to be reckoned with, mor e interesting than Spenser, more complex and satisfying than Trav is McGee . . . James Lee Burke is a writer to be remembered.--USA Today Burke writes prose as moody and memory-laden as his regio n.--Time Burke tells a story in a style all his own; language th at's alive, electric; he's a master at setting mood, laying in at mosphere, all with quirky, raunchy dialog that's a delight.--Elmo re Leonard It's hard to deny the powerful impact of Mr. Burke's hard-boiled poetics.--The Wall Street Journal From the Inside Fl ap aked with sin, Dave Robicheaux is dueling with killers, ghosts , and a woman's revenge.... The townspeople of New Iberia, Louis iana, didn't crucify Megan Flynn's father. They just didn't catch whoever pinned him to a barn wall with sixteen-penny nails. Dec ades later, Megan, now a world-famous photojournalist, has come b ack to the bayou, looking for cop Dave Robicheaux. It was Dave wh o found the body of labor leader Jack Flynn. The sight changed th e boy, shaped him as a man. And after forty years, Robicheaux is still haunted by the bizarre unsolved slaying. Now Megan's retur n has stirred up the ghosts of the long-buried past, igniting a s torm of violence that will rip apart lives of blacks and whites i n this bayou county. And for a good cop with bad memories, hard d esires, and chilling nightmares, the time has come to uncover the truth. From the Back Cover In a land soaked with sin, Dave Robi cheaux is dueling with killers, ghosts, and a woman's revenge.... The townspeople of New Iberia, Louisiana, didn't crucify Megan Flynn's father. They just didn't catch whoever pinned him to a ba rn wall with sixteen-penny nails. Decades later, Megan, now a wo rld-famous photojournalist, has come back to the bayou, looking f or cop Dave Robicheaux. It was Dave who found the body of labor l eader Jack Flynn. The sight changed the boy, shaped him as a man. And after forty years, Robicheaux is still haunted by the bizarr e unsolved slaying. Now Megan's return has stirred up the ghosts of the long-buried past, igniting a storm of violence that will rip apart lives of blacks and whites in this bayou county. And fo r a good cop with bad memories, hard desires, and chilling nightm ares, the time has come to uncover the truth. About the Author J ames Lee Burke is the author of sixteen previous books, including the New York Times bestsellers Cimarron Rose, Cadillac Jukebox, Burning Angel, and Dixie City Jam. He lives with his wife in Miss oula, Montana, and New Iberia, Louisiana. Excerpt. ® Reprinted b y permission. All rights reserved. The jailer, Alex Guidry, lived outside of town on a ten-acre horse farm devoid of trees or shad e. The sun's heat pooled in the tin roofs of his outbuildings, an d grit and desiccated manure blew out of his horse lots. His oblo ng 1960s red-brick house, its central-air-conditioning units roar ing outside a back window twenty-four hours a day, looked like a utilitarian fortress constructed for no other purpose than to rep el the elements. His family had worked for a sugar mill down tow ard New Orleans, and his wife's father used to sell Negro burial insurance, but I knew little else about him. He was one of those aging, well-preserved men with whom you associate a golf photo on the local sports page, membership in a self-congratulatory civic club, a charitable drive that is of no consequence. Or was ther e something else, a vague and ugly story years back? I couldn't r emember. Sunday afternoon I parked my pickup truck by his stable and walked past a chain-link dog pen to the riding ring. The dog pen exploded with the barking of two German shepherds who carome d off the fencing, their teeth bared, their paws skittering the f eces that lay baked on the hot concrete pad. Alex Guidry cantere d a black gelding in a circle, his booted calves fitted with Engl ish spurs. The gelding's neck and sides were iridescent with swea t. Guidry sawed the bit back in the gelding's mouth. What is it? he said. I'm Dave Robicheaux. I called earlier. He wore tan ri ding pants and a form-fitting white polo shirt. He dismounted and wiped the sweat off his face with a towel and threw it to a blac k man who had come out of the stable to take the horse. You want to know if this guy Broussard was in the detention chair? The an swer is no, he said. He says you've put other inmates in there. For days. Then he's lying. You have a detention chair, though, don't you? For inmates who are out of control, who don't respond to Isolation. You gag them? No. I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at the dog pen. The water bowl was turned over and fli es boiled in the door of the small doghouse that gave the only re lief from the sun. You've got a lot of room here. You can't let your dogs run? I said. I tried to smile. Anything else, Mr. Robi cheaux? Yeah. Nothing better happen to Cool Breeze while he's in your custody. I'll keep that in mind, sir. Close the gate on yo ur way out, please. I got back in my truck and drove down the sh ell road toward the cattle guard. A half dozen Red Angus grazed i n Guidry's pasture, while snowy egrets perched on their backs. T hen I remembered. It was ten or eleven years back, and Alex Guidr y had been charged with shooting a neighbor's dog. Guidry had cla imed the dog had attacked one of his calves and eaten its entrail s, but the neighbor told another story, that Guidry had baited a steel trap for the animal and had killed it out of sheer meanness . I looked into the rearview mirror and saw him watching me from the end of the shell drive, his legs slightly spread, a leather riding crop hanging from his wrist. Monday morning I returned to work at the Iberia Parish Sheriff's Department and took my mail out of my pigeonhole and tapped on the sheriff's office. He tilt ed back in his swivel chair and smiled when he saw me. His jowls were flecked with tiny blue and red veins that looked like fresh ink on a map when his temper flared. He had shaved too close and there was a piece of bloody tissue paper stuck in the cleft in hi s chin. Unconsciously he kept stuffing his shirt down over his pa unch into his gunbelt. You mind if I come back to work a week ear ly? I asked. This have anything to do with Cool Breeze Broussard 's complaint to the Justice Department? I went out to Alex Guidr y's place yesterday. How'd we end up with a guy like that as our jailer? It's not a job people line up for, the sheriff said. He scratched his forehead. You've got an FBI agent in your office ri ght now, some gal named Adrien Glazier. You know her? Nope. How' d she know I was going to be here? She called your house first. Your wife told her. Anyway, I'm glad you're back. I want this bul lshit at the jail cleared up. We just got a very weird case that was thrown in our face from St. Mary Parish. He opened a manila folder and put on his glasses and peered down at the fax sheets i n his fingers. This is the story he told me. Three months ago, u nder a moon haloed with a rain ring and sky filled with dust blow ing out of the sugarcane fields, a seventeen-year-old black girl named Sunshine Labiche claimed two white boys forced her car off a dirt road into a ditch. They dragged her from behind the wheel, walked her by each arm into a cane field, then took turns raping and sodomizing her. The next morning she identified both boys fr om a book of mug shots. They were brothers, from St. Mary Parish, but four months earlier they had been arrested for a convenience store holdup in New Iberia and had been released for lack of evi dence. This time they should have gone down. They didn't. Both had alibis, and the girl admitted she had been smoking rock with her boyfriend before she was raped. She dropped the charges. La te Saturday afternoon an unmarked car came to the farmhouse of th e two brothers over in St. Mary Parish. The father, who was bedri dden in the front room, watched the visitors, unbeknown to them, through a crack in the blinds. The driver of the car wore a green uniform, like sheriff's deputies in Iberia Parish, and sunglasse s and stayed behind the wheel, while a second man, in civilian cl othes and a Panama hat, went to the gallery and explained to the two brothers they only had to clear up a couple of questions in N ew Iberia, then they would be driven back home. It ain't gonna t ake five minutes. We know you boys didn't have to come all the wa y over to Iberia Parish just to change your luck, he said. The b rothers were not cuffed; in fact, they were allowed to take a twe lve-pack of beer with them to drink in the back seat. A half hou r later, just at sunset, a student from USL, who was camped out i n the Atchafalaya swamp, looked through the flooded willow and gu m trees that surrounded his houseboat and saw a car stop on the l evee. Two older men and two boys got out. One of the older men wo re a uniform. They all held cans of beer in their hands; all of t hem urinated off the levee into the cattails. Then the two boys, dressed in jeans and Clorox-stained print shirts with the sleeve s cut off at the armpits, realized something was wrong. They turn ed and stared stupidly at their companions, who had stepped backw ard up the levee and were now holding pistols in their hands. Th e boys tried to argue, holding their palms outward, as though the y were pushing back an invisible adversary. Their arms were olive with suntan, scrolled with reformatory tattoos, their hair spike d in points with butch wax. The man in uniform raised his gun and shouted an unintelligible order at them, motioning at the ground . When the boys did not respond, the second armed man, who wore a Panama hat, turned them toward the water with his hand, almost g ently, inserted his shoe against the calf of one, then the other, pushing them to their knees, as though he were arranging manikin s in a show window. Then he rejoined the man in uniform up the ba nk. One of the boys kept looking back fearfully over his shoulder . The other was weeping uncontrollably, his chin tilted upward, h is arms stiff at his sides, his eyes tightly shut. The men with guns were silhouetted against a molten red sun that had sunk acro ss the top of the levee. Just as a flock of ducks flapped across the sun, the gunmen clasped their weapons with both hands and sta rted shooting. But because of the fading light, or perhaps the na ture of their deed, their aim was bad. Both victims tried to ris e from their knees, their bodies convulsing simultaneously from t he impact of the rounds. The witness said, Their guns just kept popping. It looked like somebody was blowing chunks out of a wate rmelon. After it was over, smoke drifted out over the water and the shooter in the Panama hat took close-up flash pictures with a Polaroid camera. The witness used a pair of binoculars. He says the guy in the green uniform had our department patch on his sle eve, the sheriff said. White rogue cops avenging the rape of a b lack girl? Look, get that FBI agent out of here, will you? He lo oked at the question in my face. She's got a broom up her ass. H e rubbed his fingers across his mouth. Did I say that? I'm going to go back to the laundry business. A bad day used to b, Island Books, 1999, 2.5, New York: Farrar Straus Giroux. Fine copy. 2010. 1st. softcover. 8vo, 431 pp., Uncorrected proof copy., With contributions by Nell Freudenberger, Philipp Meyer, C. E. Morgan, Salvatore Scibona, Joshua Ferris, Gary Shteyngart, Jonathan Safran Foer, Nicole Krauss, Téa Obreht. David Bezmozgis, Dinaw Mengestu and others. ., Farrar Straus Giroux, 2010, 5, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. Paperback. Good. 5x1x8., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 2.5, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. paperback. Good. 88x19x130., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 2.5, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. paperback. Good. 5x1x8., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 2.5, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. Paperback. Acceptable. 1.3000 in x 8.0000 in x 5.5000 in. This is a used book. It may contain highlighting/underlining and/or the book may show heavier signs of wear . It may also be ex-library or without dustjacket., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 2.5, Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2010. Paperback. Good. Disclaimer:A copy that has been read, but remains in clean condition. All pages are intact, and the cover is intact. The spine may show signs of wear. Pages can include limited notes and highlighting, and the copy can include previous owner inscriptions. At ThriftBooks, our motto is: Read More, Spend Less.Dust jacket quality is not guaranteed., Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2010, 2.5, Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2010. Paperback. Very Good. May have limited writing in cover pages. Pages are unmarked. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less.Dust jacket quality is not guaranteed., Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2010, 3, Penguin Books. Good. Paperback. 2007. Lightly soiled cover.<br/> Joshua Ferris's Then We Came to the En d is one of the most acutely observed, dazzling American debuts o f recent years. They spend their days - and too many of their nig hts - at work. Away from friends and family, they share a stretch of stained carpet with a group of strangers they call colleagues . There's Chris Yop, clinging to his ergonomic chair; Lynn Mason, the boss, whose breast cancer everyone pretends not to talk abou t; Carl Garbedian, secretly taking someone else's medication; Mar cia Dwyer, whose hair is stuck in the eighties; and Benny, who's just - well, just Benny. Amidst the boredom, redundancies, water cooler moments, meetings, flirtations and pure rage, life is happ ening, to their great surprise, all around them. Then We Came to the End is about sitting all morning next to someone you cross th e road to avoid at lunch. It's the story of your life and mine. ' Very funny, intense and exhilarating . . . For the first time in fiction, it has truly captured the way we work' The Times. 'As da zzling as Franzen's The Corrections and as confident as Tartt's T he Secret History . . . Exceptional, very funny' Daily Telegraph 'Slick, sophisticated and very funny, Ferris's cracking debut has modern Everyman fighting for his identity in an increasingly imp ersonal world' Daily Mail. Joshua Ferris was born in Illinois in 1974. He is the author of Then We Came to the End (2007), which w as nominated for the National Book Award and longlisted for the G uardian First Book Award, and the highly acclaimedThe Unnamed. In 2010 he was selected for the New Yorker's prestigious '20 under 40' list. To Rise Again at a Decent Hour was longlisted for the M an Booker Prize 2014 and the Dylan Thomas Prize 2014. He lives in New York. ., Penguin Books, 2007, 2.5, Farrar Straus Giroux, 2010. Paperback. Good. Slight signs of wear on the cover. Ammareal gives back up to 15% of this book's net price to charity organizations., Farrar Straus Giroux, 2010, 2.5, Penguin UK. Very Good. 5.08 x 1.3 x 7.8 inches. Paperback. 2003. 544 pages. <br>Samuel Pepys is the astonishing biography by bests elling author Claire Tomalin 2002 WHITBREAD BOOK OF THE YEAR 'Imm aculately well done. Tomalin has managed to unearth a wealth of m aterial about the uncharted life of Samuel Pepys' Craig Brown, Ma il on Sunday 'Sex, drink, plague, fire, music, marital conflict, the fall of kings, corruption and courage in public life, wars, n avies, public execution, incarceration in the Tower: Samuel Pepys 's life is full of irresistible material, and Claire Tomalin seiz es it with both hands. Fast, vivid, accessible' Hermione Lee, Gua rdian 'A rich, thoughtful and deeply satisfying account. It takes us behind and beyond the diary - which means that, on finishing it, we can reread the diary with greater pleasure and understandi ng then ever before' Noel Malcolm, Evening Standard 'In Claire To malin, Pepys has found the biographer he deserves. Her perceptive , level-headed book finally restores to the life of the diarist i ts weight and dignity' Lisa Jardine, New Statesman 'A great achie vement and a huge pleasure. A vivid chronicle of contemporary his tory seen through the all too human preoccupations of this ordina ry and extraordinary man' Diana Souhami, Independent From the acc laimed author of Charles Dickens: A Life and The Invisible Woman, this celebrated biography casts new light on the remarkable diar ies of Pepys and brings his story vividly to life once more. Clai re Tomalin is the award-winning author of eight highly acclaimed biographies, including: The Life and Death of Mary Wollstonecraft ; Shelley and His World; Katherine Mansfield: A Secret Life; The Invisible Woman: The Story of Nelly Ternan and Charles Dickens; M rs Jordan's Profession; Jane Austen: A Life; Samuel Pepys: The Un equalled Self; Thomas Hardy: The Time-Torn Man and, most recently , Charles Dickens: A Life. A former literary editor of the New St atesman and the Sunday Times, she is married to the playwright an d novelist Michael Frayn. Editorial Reviews Review The Pepys we know lived for only nine years and five months. Tomalin gives us the rest of the man, and also a startling new way to read him. - Thomas Mallon, The New Yorker Tomalin not only brings him back t o vibrant life, but makes a powerful case that he's more central, more 'relevant' than we ever imagined . . . She has restored to us the whole Pepys. -Charles McGrath, New York Times Book Review, front cover Brilliantly believable . . . It takes an exceptiona l biographer to go so confidently beyond the apparent totality of daily experience presented in Pepys's Diary . . . Claire Tomalin 's life [of Pepys] is a magnificent triumph. Her research has bee n not just scrupulously thorough but dazzlingly imaginative. -Phi lip Hensher, Atlantic Monthly Tomalin's writing is as supple and lively as Pepys's own, and by fleshing out the backdrop to his D iary writings, she has created the perfect bookend to his own rol licking self-portrait . . . The best work on Pepys since Robert L ouis Stevenson's classic essay, published in 1881. -Michiko Kakut ani, New York Times Our greatest diarist, analyzed by one of our greatest biographers. Tomalin's flawless research and trademark empathy with her subjects should make this portrait of one of the most fascinating characters of 17th-century England the best bio graphy of the autumn. -Caroline Gascoigne, Sunday Times (U.K.) I mmaculately well done. She writes with such beautiful clarity, al ways empathetic . . . There is about this biography a wisdom, an unforced feeling that the biographer has a sense of the way life is . . . Like all great biographies, Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self has a hint of the love letter about it. And it is a love th at becomes contagious. -Craig Brown, The Mail on Sunday (U.K.) A bout the Author Claire Tomalin was literary editor of the New Sta tesman then the Sunday Times before leaving to become a full-time writer. Her first book, The Life and Death of Mary Wollstonecraf t, won the Whitbread First Book Award, and she has since written a number of highly acclaimed and bestselling biographies. They in clude Jane Austen: A Life, The Invisible Woman, a definitive acco unt of Dickens' relationship with the actress Ellen Ternan, which won three major literary awards, and Samuel Pepys: The Unequalle d Self was Whitbread Book of the Year in 2002. In the highly accl aimed Charles Dickens: A Life, she presents a full-scale biograph y of our greatest novelist. She is married to the writer Michael Frayn. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Part One 1633-1668 The Elected Son He was born in London, above the shop, just off Fleet Street, in Salisbury Court, where his f ather John Pepys ran a tailoring business, one of many serving th e lawyers living in the area. The house backed on to the parish c hurch of St. Bride's, where all the babies of the family were chr istened and two were already buried in the churchyard; when he wa s a man, Pepys still kept the thought in his mind of my young bro thers and sisters laid in the ground outside the house of his you th. Salisbury Court was an open space surrounded by a mixture of small houses like John Pepys's and large ones, once the abodes of bishops and ambassadors, with gardens; it was entered through na rrow lanes, one from Fleet Street opposite Shoe Lane, another in the south-west corner leading into Water Lane and so down to the Thames and river steps fifty yards below. The south-facing slope above the river was a good place to live; people had been settled here since Roman times, and when Pepys was born in 1633 a Christ ian church had stood on the spot for at least five hundred years. A block to the east was the Fleet River, with the pink brick cre nellated walls of Bridewell rising beside it; it had been built a s a palace by King Henry VIII and deteriorated into a prison for vagrants, homeless children and street women, known to the locals as Bridewell Birds. A footbridge spanned the Fleet between Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, and from St. Bride's you could look acr oss its deep valley-much deeper then than it is today-with houses crammed up both sides in a maze of courts and alleys, to old St. Paul's rising on its hill above the City. This was the western edge of the City, and Pepys's first playground. The City was prou d of being the most populous in the world; it had something like 130,000 inhabitants, and in the whole country there were only abo ut five million. If you went west from Salisbury Court along Flee t Street, you came to the gardens of the Temple lawyers, with the ir groves of trees, formal beds and walks, and further west along the Strand you were out of the City, on the way to Whitehall and Westminster. To the east was the only bridge-London Bridge, almo st as old as St. Bride's Church, with its nineteen arches and its spikes on which traitors' heads were stuck-and then the Tower. T he river, without embankments, was very wide, with a sloping shor e at low tide, a place for children to explore; and the great hou ses of the aristocracy were strung along the riverside, each with its own watergate. The best way to get about fast in London was by boat. The Pepys house centred round the shop and cutting room , with their shelves, stools and drawers, cutting board and looki ng-glass. At the back the kitchen opened into a yard, and in the cellar were the washing tubs and coal hole, with a lock-up into w hich troublesome children or maids might be put for punishment. T he stairs to the living quarters went up at the back. Timber-fram ed, tall and narrow, with a jetty sticking out over the street at the front, set tight against its neighbours, with a garret under the steeply pitched roof: this was the pattern of ordinary Londo n houses. On the first floor the parlour doubled as dining room. Above there were two bedrooms, each with a small closet or study opening off it, and high beds with red or purple curtains. In one of these Pepys was born and spent his first weeks. Older childre n, maids and apprentices slept on the third floor-Pepys mentions the little chamber, three storeys high-or in the garret, or in tr undle beds, kept in most of the rooms, including the shop and the parlour; sometimes they bedded down in the kitchen for warmth. In one of the bedrooms was a virginals, the neat, box-like harpsi chord of the period. John Pepys was musical: he played the bass v iol, and his eldest daughter, six-year-old Mary, could have start ed at the keyboard by the time Sam was born. Singing and musical instruments-viol, violin, lute, virginals, flageolet (a recorder of sorts)-were an essential part of family life, and music became the child's passion.Music was not only in the family but literal ly in the air for many months during the first year of Sam's life . It came from one of the large houses in Salisbury Court, in whi ch a young and ambitious lawyer, Bulstrode Whitelocke, was prepar ing a masque to be performed before King Charles and his queen. W hitelocke and Edward Hyde, together representing the Middle Templ e, had joined with members of the other three Inns of Court in a plan to celebrate Candlemas in a great masque to be produced befo re the Court at Whitehall, and Whitelocke, who had some skill as a composer, was in charge of the music. He assembled a large grou p of singers, including some from the Queen's Chapel, and caused them all to meet in practise at his house in Salisbury Court wher e he . . . had sometimes 40 lutes, besides other instruments and voices, in consort together. The noise must have been terrific. O n the day of the performance, 2 February 1634, three weeks before Pepys's first birthday, the masquers, in costumes of silver, cri mson and blue, some riding plumed horses draped in cloth of silve r, some carrying flaming torches, processed along Holborn and Cha ncery Lane, through Temple Bar to Charing Cross and so to the Ban queting House. Inigo Jones was the designer, and the poet Thomas Carew wrote the words.The event was such a success that Queen Hen rietta Maria asked for a repeat performance at the Merchant Taylo rs' Hall in the City. This was done, and gave great contentment t o their Majesties and no less to the Citizens, especially the you nger sort of them. It may be too much to imagine the infant Pepys held up to enjoy the festivities among the many Londoners agog a t the sound of the music and the brilliant show of the young lawy ers; but music, theatre, celebration, processions, ritual and fin e clothes delighted him throughout his life. A tailor's family w as likely to be well dressed. There was a looking-glass upstairs, in which the children could look at themselves in imitation of t he customers below and make themselves fine with scraps of cloth. But clothes, fine or plain, were hard to keep clean in London. E very household burnt coal brought from Newcastle by sea in its fi replaces and cooking ranges. So did the brewers and dyers, the br ick-makers up the Tottenham Court Road, the ubiquitous soap and s alt boilers. The smoke from their chimneys made the air dark, cov ering every surface with sooty grime. There were days when a clou d of smoke half a mile high and twenty miles wide could be seen o ver the city from the Epsom Downs. Londoners spat black. Wall han gings, pictures and clothes turned yellow and brown like leaves i n autumn, and winter undervests, sewn on for the season against t he cold, were the colour of mud by the time spring arrived. Hair was expected to look after itself; John Evelyn made a special not e in his diary in August 1653 that he was going to experiment wit h an annual hair wash. But every house, every family enjoyed its own smell, to which father, mother, children, apprentices, maids and pets all contributed, a rich brew of hair, bod- ies, sweat an d other emissions, bedclothes, cooking, whatever food was lying a bout, whatever dirty linen had been piled up for the monthly wash , whatever chamber pots were waiting to be emptied into yard or s treet. Home meant the familiar reek which everyone breathed. The smell of the house might strike a new maid as alien, but she woul d quickly become part of the atmosphere herself. When Pepys wrote of his family, meaning not blood relations but everyone who live d in his household-the Latin word familia has this sense-we under stand that, as a group sharing the same rooms, they also comforta bly shared the same smell. His mother was a connoisseur of dirty linen, having worked as a washmaid in a grand household before h er marriage. It was not a bad preparation for eleven children in fourteen years; the babies followed one another so fast that she was always either nursing or expecting one, and each made its con tribution to the monthly washing day. Samuel was her fifth, hardl y more than a year after John. Paulina and Esther, who preceded h im, were both dead before he was born, but by the time he was fiv e there would be four more, Thomas, Sarah, Jacob and Robert, of w hom only Tom would live to grow up. God's system was inefficient and depressing. A doc- tor writing in 1636 regretted that humans did not reproduce like trees, without the trivial and vulgar way of coition.This was Sir Thomas Browne. He might have added a furt her expression of regret at the wearing out of so much health and happiness, but he failed to, and instead overcame his distaste a t the triviality of the act often enough to father twelve childre n on his wife. Pepys's mother must have been always busy, tired, distracted or grieving for the deaths of his brothers and sisters when he was a child: soon worn out, physically and emotionally. Pepys's birthday was on 23 February and his baptism by the vicar of St. Bride's, James Palmer, is recorded on 3 March 1632/3, Sam uell sonn to John Peapis wyef Margaret.The same year, in October, the queen gave birth across town at St. James's Palace to her se cond son, James. After his christening, he was given the title of duke of York. He had a staff of officials paid to rock his cradl e; and, unthinkable as it would have seemed then, he was destined to become one of Sam Pepys's close associates. Another boy who g rew up to influence Sam's life, Anthony Ashley Cooper, was also l iving off Fleet Street, in Three Cranes Court, from 1631 to 1635. Sam's brother Tom was born in the summer of 1634, making a trio of little Pepys boys, John, Sam and Tom, and a sister Sarah the f ollowing summer. Other tailoring families in the district produce d playmates. There were the Cumberlands, also in Salisbury Court, with, Penguin UK, 2003, 3, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. Paperback. Good., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 2.5, Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Used - Good. Former library book; may include library markings. Used book that is in clean, average condition without any missing pages., Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2.5, Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Used - Good. Used book that is in clean, average condition without any missing pages., Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2.5, Farrar Straus & Giroux. Used - Very Good., Farrar Straus & Giroux, 3, Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Very Good+. 2010. Softcover. 0374532877 . Stiff unmarked book in crisp covers; about new but for faint page toning. ; 8.0 X 5.5 X 1.3 inches; 448 pages ., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010, 3, Paperback / softback. New. Longlisted for the National Book Award for Fiction An unforgettable collection of stories from Daniel Alarcon, one of the New Yorker's 20 best writers under 40, and one of the best storytellers of our time., 6, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23. Original. Paperback. Used:Good., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010-11-23, 0, Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Used - Very Good. Very Good condition. A copy that may have a few cosmetic defects. May also contain a few markings such as an owners name, short gifters inscription or light stamp., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 3, New York:: Alfred A. Knopf,, 2013.. Hardcover first edition -. Near fine in near fine dust jacket (wear at the base of the spine). First printing. The third book by the author of the novel "Swamplandia!" Russell has been named to The New Yorkers list of the twenty best writers under the age of forty, Grantas Best of Young American Novelists, and the National Book Foundations five best writers under the age of thirty-five. 243 pp., Alfred A. Knopf, 2013., 4<

2013, ISBN: 9780307957238

Hardcover

New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2013. Book. As New. Hardcover. 1st Edition. First Edition/4th Printing. Hardcover in unclipped dustjacket. 243 pages. A magical new collection of stories, from … More...

New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2013. Book. As New. Hardcover. 1st Edition. First Edition/4th Printing. Hardcover in unclipped dustjacket. 243 pages. A magical new collection of stories, from the author of, Swamplandia!, that showcase Karen Russell's gifts at their inimitable best. As new. Unread. From my smoke-free collection. Ships in well-padded box.., Alfred A. Knopf, 2013, 5<

ISBN: 9780307957238

Knopf. 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… More...

Knopf. 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., Knopf, 2.5<

2013, ISBN: 9780307957238

Hard cover, Gebraucht, guter Zustand, Former Library book. All orders guaranteed and ship within 24 hours. Your purchase supports More Than Words, a nonprofit job training program for you… More...

Hard cover, Gebraucht, guter Zustand, Former Library book. All orders guaranteed and ship within 24 hours. Your purchase supports More Than Words, a nonprofit job training program for youth, empowering youth to take charge of their lives by taking charge of a business., [PU: Knopf Publishing Group]<

ISBN: 9780307957238

Knopf. Used - Good. . Former Library book.. All orders guaranteed and ship within 24 hours. Your purchase supports More Than Words, a nonprofit job training program for youth, empowerin… More...

Knopf. Used - Good. . Former Library book.. All orders guaranteed and ship within 24 hours. Your purchase supports More Than Words, a nonprofit job training program for youth, empowering youth to take charge of their lives by taking charge of a business., Knopf, 2.5<