2014, ISBN: 9780199757534

Gebundene Ausgabe

Arrow. Good. 5.12 x 1.75 x 7.81 inches. Paperback. 2008. 816 pages. Cover worn<br>Campbell, Alastair Editorial Reviews A bout the Author Alastair Campbell was born in Keighley, Yo… Mehr…

Arrow. Good. 5.12 x 1.75 x 7.81 inches. Paperback. 2008. 816 pages. Cover worn<br>Campbell, Alastair Editorial Reviews A bout the Author Alastair Campbell was born in Keighley, Yorkshire in 1957, the son of a vet. After graduating from Cambridge Unive rsity in modern languages, his first chosen career was journalism , principally with the Mirror Group. When Tony Blair became leade r of the Labour Party, he asked Campbell to be his press secretar y. He worked for Blair - first in that capacity, then as official spokesman and director of communications and strategy - from 199 4 to 2003, since when he has been engaged mainly in writing, publ ic speaking and working for Leukaemia Research, where he is chair man of fundraising. He has continued to act as an advisor to Mr B lair and the Labour Party, including during the 2005 election cam paign. He lives in North London with his partner of 25 years, Fio na Millar. They have three children Rory, 19, Calum, 17 and Grace , 12. His interests include running, triathlon, bagpipes and Burn ley Football Club. From the Hardcover edition. Excerpt. ® Repri nted by permission. All rights reserved. The following are excerp ts from Alastair Campbell's The Blair Years. Mr. Campbell's comme nts on the entries are in bold. Meeting Diana As a journalist, I had often been critical of Princess Diana. The moment I met her , former negative thoughts were banished. Thursday, May 4, 1995 Local elections. Terry picked me up to go to collect TB/CB to go to Walworth Rd for the results coming in. They were at a dinner in Hyde Park Gardens that had been organised for them to meet Pri ncess Diana. I rang the bell and said could you tell Mr Blair his car is here. I went back to the car and the next thing TB is tap ping at the car window and he says: 'Someone wants to meet you.' I get out and she's walking towards me, and she says: 'There he i s, can I come over and say hello,' and then she's standing there, absolutely, spellbindingly, drop-dead gorgeous, in a way that th e millions of photos didn't quite get it. She said hello, held ou t her hand and said she was really pleased to meet me, so I mumbl ed something back about me being more pleased and how I didn't ex pect when I left the house tonight that I'd end up standing in th e middle of the road talking to her. 'It would make a very funny picture if there were any paparazzi in those trees,' she said. TB was standing back and Cherie was looking impatient and I was jus t enjoying flirting with her. I asked if he had behaved well and she said yes, very well. I said in that case I think you should come with us to Walworth Road and create an almighty sensation. 'I just might,' she said. Northern Ireland In the introduction to the book I cite TB's optimism and resilience as two of his gre atest qualities. Here, in his second week as Prime Minister, the optimism is on display after a weekend spent reflecting on Northe rn Ireland. The resilience would follow as, over the course of hi s Premiership, he secured progress towards peace. Monday, May 12 , 1997 TB said he reckoned he could see a way of sorting the No rthern Ireland problem. I loved the way he said it, like nobody h ad thought of it before. I said what makes you think you can do i t when nobody else could? Death of Diana The events following t he death of Diana are recorded in some detail in the book. Here i s a short extract which records how I heard the news, and how TB initially reacted. Saturday, August 30, 1997 I got to bed, and at around two I was paged by media monitoring: 'Car crash in Pari s. Dodi killed. Di hurt. This is not a joke.' Then TB came on. He had been called by Number 10 and told the same thing. He was rea lly shocked. He said she was in a coma and the chances are she'd die. I don't think I'd ever heard him like this. He was full of p auses, then gabbling a little, but equally clear what we had to d o. We started to prepare a statement. We talked through the thing s we would have to do tomorrow, if she died. By now the phones we re starting from the press, and I didn't sleep. Then about an hou r later Nick, the duty clerk, called and said simply 'She's dead. The Prime Minister is being told now.' I went through on the cal l. Angus Lapsley was duty private secretary and was taking him th rough what we knew. But it was hard to get beyond the single fact of her death. 'I can't believe this. I just can't believe it,' s aid TB. 'You just can't take it in, can you?' And yet, as ever wi th TB, he was straight onto the ramifications. Historic day with Sinn Fein There were many important milestones on the road to t he Good Friday Agreement, which was perhaps the greatest high of my entire time with TB, elections included. This extract relates to one such milestone, the first visit to Downing Street by Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness, two men crucial to the peace proces s. Thursday, December 11, 1997 Gerry Adams and his team arrived 15 minutes early, and he did a little number in the street, wher e the media numbers were huge. This was a big moment, potentially historic in the progress it could lead to. They came inside and we kept them waiting while we went over what TB was due to say. M o Mowlam and Paul Murphy were both there and Mo was pretty fed up , feeling she was getting shit from all sides. They were hovering around the lifts and were summoned down to the Cabinet room. We had agreed TB should be positive but firm. He actually came over as friendly, welcoming them individually as they came in. I shook McGuinness by the hand, who as he sat down said, fairly loudly, 'So this is the room where all the damage was done.' It was a cla ssic moment where the different histories played out. Everyone on our side thought he was referring to the mortar attack on Major, and we were shocked. Yet it became obvious from their surprise a t our shock that he was referring to policymaking down the years, and Britain's involvement in Ireland. 'No, no, I meant 1921,' he said. I found McGuinness more impressive than Adams, who did the big statesman bit, and talked in grand historical sweeps, but Mc Guinness just made a point and battered it, and forced you to tak e it on board. Of the women, I could not work out whether they re ally mattered, or whether they just took them round with them to look a bit less hard. They were tough as boots all three of them. TB was good in the use of language and captured well the sense o f history and occasion. He said we faced a choice of history - vi olence and despair, or peace and progress. We were all taking ris ks, but they are risks worth taking. He said to Adams he wanted t o be able to look him in the eye, hear him say he was committed t o peaceful means, and he wanted to believe him. I was eyeing thei r reaction to TB the whole time, and both Adams and McG regularly let a little smile cross their lips. Martin Ferris [Sinn Fein ne gotiator] was the one who just stared. Mo got pissed off, volubly , when they said she wasn't doing enough. TB was maybe not as fir m as we had planned, but he did ask - which I decided not to brie f, and knew they wouldn't - whether they would be able to sign up to a settlement that did not explicitly commit to a united Irela nd. Adams was OK, but McGuinness was not. Adams said the prize of a lasting peace justifies the risks. Lloyd George, Balfour, Glad stone, Cromwell, they all thought they had answers of sorts. We w ant our answers to be the endgame. A cobbled-together agreement w ill not stand the test of time. He pushed hard on prisoners being released, and the aim of total demilitarisation, and TB just lis tened. TB said he would not be a persuader for a united Ireland. The principle of consent was central to the process. Adams said i f TB could not be a persuader, he could be a facilitator. He said we would be dead in 40 years, but in the meantime this was the b iggest test of TB's time in office, how he deals with the displac ed citizens in a divided territory. 9/11 September 11 was meant to be another fairly routine day. It came to be a defining momen t in the Blair years and would ensure foreign policy dominated hi s second term. As with Diana's death, once the initial shock subs ided, he was straight onto the ramifications. Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I woke up to the usual blah on the radio about TB and the TUC speech, all the old BBC clichés about us and the unions, the only new thing GMB ads asking if you trust TB not to privatis e the NHS. Peter H and I went up to the flat. TB had done a good section on public-private, an effective hit back at the Edmonds l ine. With the economy, public services, Europe/euro and a bit on asylum, we had a proper speech. We sharpened it and honed it a bi t. He was furious at the GMB ads, said he intended to give Edmond s a real hammering. We finished it on the train to Brighton, were met and driven to the hotel. We were there, up at the top of th e hotel putting the finishing touches to the speech, when the att acks on the New York Twin Towers began. Godric was watching in th e little room where the Garden Room girl had set up, came up to t he top of the little staircase leading to the bit where TB and I were working, and signalled for me to go down. It was all a bit c haotic, with the TV people going into their usual breathless brea king-news mode, but it was clearly something way out of the ordin ary. I went upstairs, turned on the TV and said to TB he ought to watch it. It was now even clearer than just a few moments ago ju st how massive an event this was. It was also one that was going to have pretty immediate implications for us too. We didn't watch the TV that long, but long enough for TB to reach the judgement about just how massive an event this was in its impact and implic ations. It's possible we were talking about thousands dead. We wo uld also have to make immediate judgements about buildings and in stitutions to protect here. TB was straight onto the diplomatic s ide as well, said that we had to help the US, that they could not go it all on their own, that they felt beleaguered and that this would be tantamount to a military attack in their minds. We had to decide whether we should cancel the speech. There was always a moment in these terrorist outrages where governments said we mus t not let the terrorists change what we do, but it was meaningles s. Of course they changed what we did. At first, we felt it best to go ahead with the speech but by the time we were leaving for t he venue, the Towers were actually collapsing. The scale of the h orror and the damage was increasing all the time and it was perfe ctly obvious he couldn't do the speech. We went over to the confe rence centre, where TB broke the news to John Monks [TUC general secretary] and Brendan Barber that he intended to go on, say a fe w words, but then we would have to head back to London. We would issue the text but he would not deliver the speech. Monks said to me that it's on days like this that you realise just how big his job is. TB's mind was whirring with it. His brief statement to t he TUC went down well, far better than his speech would have done . We walked back to the hotel, both of us conscious there seemed to be a lot more security around. We arranged a series of confere nce calls through Jonathan with Jack Straw, Geoff Hoon, David Blu nkett. We asked Richard Wilson to fix a Cobra meeting as soon as we got back. We set off for Brighton station. He said the conseq uences of this were enormous. On the train he was subdued, though we did raise a smile when someone said it was the first and last time he would get a standing ovation from the TUC. Robert Hill w as listening to the radio on his earpiece and filling us in every now and then. TB asked for a pad and started to write down some of the issues we would have to address when we got back. He said the big fear was terrorists capable of this getting in league wit h rogue states that would help them. He'd been going on about bin Laden for a while because there had been so much intelligence ab out him and al-Qaeda. He wanted to commission proper reports on O BL and all the other terror groups. He made a note of the need to reach out to the British Muslim community, who would fear a back lash if this was bin Laden. Everyone seemed convinced it couldn't be anyone else. Crucial talks with Bush The Blair-Clinton rela tionship was easy for people to understand, his close relationshi p with President Bush less so. TB was determined to get on with h im, and believed maximum public support, particularly post Septem ber 11, led to increased private influence, including on the effo rts to resolve Iraq through the UN. Saturday, September 7, 2002 When TB came back in, GWB said he'd decided to go to the UN and put down a new UNSCR, challenge the UN to deal with the problems for its own sake. He could not stand by. He would say OK, what wi ll you do? Earlier, not too convincingly, Karen [Hughes, GWB's co mmunications adviser] had claimed GWB was always going to go down the UN route. Cheney looked very sour throughout, and after dinn er, when TB and Bush walked alone to the chopper, Bush was open w ith him that Cheney was in a different position. Earlier, when we had said that the international community was pressing for some direction but that in the US there would be people saying 'Why ar e you going to the UN, why aren't you doing it now?' Cheney smile d across the table, making it pretty clear that was where he was. The mood was good. As we left, Bush joked to me 'I suppose you c an tell the story of how Tony flew in and pulled the crazed unila teralist back from the brink.' He was very clear on the threat, a nd the need of the UN to deal with it. He said he would get somet hing on the Middle East. 'That's a promise.' He was, as Sally Mor gan [director of political and government relations] said, far mo re impressive close up. Robin Cook's resignation and Commons deb ate over Iraq The day before the defining Commons vote on Iraq, Robin Cook resigned, adding to a sense of crisis and a Prime Mini ster's future on the line as he sought to persuade Parliament to support military action. Monday, March 17, 2003 TB started Cabi net, introduced Goldsmith, then Clare came in and asked Sally whe re Robin was. 'He's gone,' said Sal. 'Oh my God.' TB's only refer ence to Robin was to say that he had resigned. Peter Goldsmith we nt through the answer on legal authority to use force. One by one , a succession of colleagues expressed s, Arrow, 2008, 2.5, Knopf. Very Good. 6.68 x 1.38 x 9.58 inches. Hardcover. 2014. First edition. 416 pages. <br>Pub Date: 2014-05-13 Pages: 416 Language: English Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing ... The author of the best- selling Harry Hole series now gives us an electrifying stand-alon e novel set inside Oslo & rsquo; s maze of especially venal . hig h-level corruption Sonny Lofthus is a strangely charismatic and c omplacent young man Sonny & rsquo;.... s been in prison for a doz en years. nearly half his life The inmates who seek out his uncan ny abilities to soothe leave his cell feeling absolved They don & rsquo; t know or care that Sonny has a serious heroin habit & md ash; or where or how he gets his uninterrupted supply of the drug Or that he & rsquo;. s serving time for other peoples & rsquo;. crimes Sonny took the first steps toward addiction when his fathe r took his own life rather than face exposure as a corrupt cop No w Sonny is the seemingly malleable center of a whole infr... Edi torial Reviews From Booklist *Starred Review* On the surface, Ne sbø's gripping new stand-alone might seem like another installmen t of the Harry Hole series but featuring a new cast of characters . A serial killer is at work in Oslo, and a maverick cop with his share of personal demons is on his trail. But beneath that surfa ce, there is a complex psychological thriller churning its way in to the reader's nightmares. Sonny Lofthus is in prison for crimes he didn't commit but for which he has agreed to take the fall--i n exchange for an unending supply of heroin. The drugs are Sonny' s way of dealing with the knowledge that his father, an apparent suicide, was a dirty cop. As the novel begins, however, Sonny has new information about his father's death and has engineered a da ring escape from prison. His revenge-fueled plan is to kill those responsible for the crimes he was convicted of by re-creating th e murders with the real killers now the victims. The more we lear n about Sonny, the more we root for him to evade capture, either by the police or by the crime lord who wants him dead. Juggling p oint of view between Sonny, Simon Kefas (the cop chasing him), an d the various corrupt officials who risk exposure the longer Sonn y is free, Nesbø thwarts our every attempt to draw conclusions ab out both what happened in the past and who is the least guilty am ong the principals. There is an element of the classic film noir Breathless at work here but with more characters of varying shade s of gray whose fates hinge on numerous moving parts. A terrific thriller but also a tragic, very moving story of intertwined char acters swerving desperately to avoid the dead ends in their paths . HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: With 24 million copies of his books sold , Nesbø is now second only to Stieg Larsson among Scandinavian cr ime writers. His fame is sure to grow still more as Martin Scorse se and Leonardo DiCaprio are about to begin filming The Snowman. --Bill Ott Review A deftly plotted novel that probes the deepest mysteries: sin, redemption, love, evil, the human condition. . . . One of Nesb's best, deepest and richest novels. --Kirkus Revie ws (starred review) Excellent . . . Nesb takes the reader on a c hilling ride with many unexpected twists. --Publishers Weekly (st arred review) The standard bearer for the phenomenon that is Sca ndinavian crime fiction. . . . Fast-paced and imaginatively viole nt, this latest example of Nesbo's Nordic noir hurtles like an ex press train towards a last act of almost operatic extravagance th at leaves dead bodies and carefully nurtured reputations litterin g the stage. Great stuff altogether. --Independent (Ireland) [Ne sb is] one of the current leading lights in Scandinavian crime fi ction . . . Ridiculously talented . . . with his clear gift for h airpin twists and turns. . . . The thriller is so tightly plotted that it will keep readers steadfastly glued to their seat. . . . What Nesb has crafted is not a whodunit in the traditional sense , as the writer is interested in the far more fascinating questio n of what can drive a person to evil? --Daily Style (Australia) Scandinavian Reviews Nesb's new book makes all the hype before p ublication seem like false modesty, and is quite simply a fantast ic piece of crime literature. . . . First and foremost, this is a clever, enthralling and driven story that is impossible to put d own. --Dagens Nringsliv (Norway) Yet another powerful demonstrat ion of Nesb's talent for creating a story that plays on all nerve strands and with so much intensity that it embodies both the Bib le and Batman at once. It is really well done. It is still early in the year, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone should dub Th e Son as the crime novel of the year. --Ekstra Bladet (Denmark) The pace proves to be on top in the new book, in a positive sense . This remains Norwegian crime literature in a class by itself. A plot that stretches and spreads out like great mathematical form ulas, with many unfamiliar characters in the equation, but withou t being arcane or excessive in his fantastic interpretations. . . . Jo Nesb prevails once again. --Dagsavisen (Norway) The Son is a modern take on the story about Christ, that tackles the corrup tion in Oslo. . . . Jo Nesb's writing is incredible as usual. --J yllands-Posten (Denmark) Tremendously well written by Nesb. . . . There is something unstoppably vital about Jo Nesb as a designe r of crime stories in the baroque style. His pen is on fire and a lthough it may be noted that it goes too fast sometimes linguisti cally, the stories he creates has so many staggering twists and t urns that it is almost physically impossible not to get hooked. - -Aftenposten (Norway) Crime novels are rarely so skillfully told and at the same time so much more than pure entertainment. But N esb is a master. --Berlingske (Denmark) No Norwegian crime write r can create such complex crime plots without losing in detail li ke Nesb can. You might say that Nesb is both high and low in his texts, and that is one of the main reasons why his novels rise ab ove most others in this genre. --Dagbladet (Norway) It is a form idable, diabolically clever and devilishly good book that is well put together, down to the smallest detail. --Nordjyske Stiftstid ene (Denmark) The story . . . is propelled with great force and an unerring sense of detail. . . . It is simply thrilling to read . --NRK (Norway) Fast-paced and rip-roaring suspenseful. --Polit iken (Denmark) No one at our latitudes knows the game like Nesb does. No one is even close to his craftsmanship in writing crime novels that hold such international standard. --Adresseavisen (No rway) A high level of suspense all the way and limitless brutali ty. The bad guys get what they deserves and Nesb's writing is alm ost more cynical and concrete than usual. There are also a few lo ve stories along the way, that--almost--end happily. --Lolland-Fa lsters Folketidende (Denmark) About the Author JO NESB is a musi cian, songwriter, and economist, as well as a writer. His Harry H ole novels include The Redeemer, The Snowman, The Leopard, and Ph antom, and he is also the author of several stand-alone novels an d the Doctor Proctor series of children's books. He is the recipi ent of numerous awards including the Glass Key for best Nordic cr ime novel. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserve d. 1 Rover kept his eyes on the white-painted concrete floor in the eleven-square-metre prison cell. He bit down on the slightly too long gold front tooth in his lower jaw. He had reached the ha rdest part of his confession. The only sound in the cell was his nails scratching the madonna tattoo on his forearm. The boy sitti ng cross-legged on the bed opposite him had remained silent ever since Rover had entered. He had merely nodded and smiled his blis sful Buddha smile, his gaze fixed at a point on Rover's forehead. People called the boy Sonny and said that he had killed two peop le as a teenager, that his father had been a corrupt police offic er and that Sonny had healing hands. It was hard to see if the bo y was listening--his green eyes and most of his face were hidden behind his long, matted hair--but that didn't matter. Rover just wanted his sins forgiven and to receive Sonny's distinctive bless ing so that tomorrow he could walk out of Staten Maximum Security Prison with the feeling of being a truly cleansed man. Not that Rover was religious, but it could do no harm when he intended to change, to give going straight a real try. Rover took a deep brea th. I think she was from Belarus. Minsk is in Belarus, isn't it? Rover looked up quickly, but the boy made no reply. Nestor had n icknamed her Minsk, Rover said. He told me to shoot her. The obv ious advantage of confessing to someone whose brain was fried was that no name and incident would stick; it was like talking to yo urself. This might explain why inmates at Staten preferred this g uy to the chaplain or the psychologist. Nestor kept her and eigh t other girls in a cage down in Enerhaugen. East Europeans and As ians. Young. Teenagers. At least I hope they were as old as that. But Minsk was older. Stronger. She escaped. Got as far as Tyen P ark before Nestor's dog caught her. One of those Argentine mastif fs--know what I'm talking about? The boy's eyes never moved, but he raised his hand. Found his beard. He started to comb it slowl y with his fingers. The sleeve of his filthy, oversized shirt sli pped down and revealed scabs and needle marks. Rover went on. Bl oody big albino dogs. Kills anything its owner points at. And qui te a lot he doesn't. Banned in Norway, 'course. A guy out in Rlen gen got some from the Czech Republic, breeds them and registers t hem as white boxers. Me and Nestor went there to buy one when it was a pup. It cost more than fifty grand in cash. The puppy was s o cute you wouldn't ever think it . . . Rover stopped. He knew he was only talking about the dog to put off the inevitable. Anyway . . . Anyway. Rover looked at the tattoo on his other forearm. A cathedral with two spires. One for each sentence he had served, neither of which had anything to do with today's confession. He used to supply guns to a biker gang and modify some of them in hi s workshop. He was good at it. Too good. So good that he couldn't remain below the radar forever and he was caught. And so good th at, while serving his first sentence, Nestor had taken him under his wing. Nestor had made sure he owned him so that from then on only Nestor would get his hands on the best guns, rather than the biker gang or any other rivals. He had paid him more for a few m onths' work than Rover could ever hope to earn in a lifetime in h is workshop fixing motorbikes. But Nestor had demanded a lot in r eturn. Too much. She was lying in the bushes, blood everywhere. She just lay there, dead still, staring up at us. The dog had tak en a chunk out of her face--you could see straight to the teeth. Rover grimaced. Get to the point. Nestor said it was time to teac h them a lesson, show the other girls what would happen to them. And that Minsk was worthless to him now anyway, given the state o f her face . . . Rover swallowed. So he told me to do it. Finish her off. That's how I'd prove my loyalty, you see. I had an old R uger MK II pistol that I'd done some work on. And I was going to do it. I really was. That wasn't the problem . . . Rover felt hi s throat tighten. He had thought about it so often, gone over tho se seconds during that night in Tyen Park, seeing the girl over a nd over again. Nestor and himself taking the leading roles with t he others as silent witnesses. Even the dog had been silent. He h ad thought about it perhaps a hundred times. A thousand? And yet it wasn't until now, when he said the words out loud for the firs t time, that he realised that it hadn't been a dream, that it rea lly had happened. Or rather it was as if his body hadn't accepted it until now. That was why his stomach was churning. Rover breat hed deeply through his nose to quell the nausea. But I couldn't do it. Even though I knew she was gonna die. They had the dog at the ready and I was thinking that me, I'd have preferred a bullet . But it was as if the trigger was locked in position. I just cou ldn't pull it. The young man seemed to be nodding faintly. Eithe r in response to what Rover was telling him or to music only he c ould hear. Nestor said we didn't have all day, we were in a publ ic park after all. So he took out a small, curved knife from a le g holster, stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her u p and just seemed to swing the knife in front of her throat. As i f gutting a fish. Blood spurted out three, four times, then she w as empty. But d'you know what I remember most of all? The dog. Ho w it started howling at the sight of all that blood. Rover leane d forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees. He covered h is ears with his hands and rocked back and forth. And I did noth ing. I just stood there, looking on. I did fuck all. While they w rapped her in a blanket and carried her to the car, I just watche d. We drove her to the woods, to stmarksetra. Lifted her out and rolled her down the slope towards Ulsrudsvannet. Lots of people t ake their dogs for walks there so she was found the next day. The point was, Nestor wanted her to be found, d'you get me? He wante d pictures in the papers of what had happened to her. So he could show them to the other girls. Rover removed his hands from his ears. I stopped sleeping; every time I closed my eyes I had nigh tmares. The girl with the missing cheek smiled at me and bared al l her teeth. So I went to see Nestor and told him I wanted out. S aid I'd had enough of filing down Uzis and Glocks, that I wanted to go back to fixing motorbikes. Live a quiet life, not worry abo ut the cops the whole time. Nestor said that was OK, he'd probabl y sussed that I didn't have it in me to be a tough guy. But he ma de it very clear what would happen to me if I talked. I thought w e were sorted. I turned down every job I was offered even though I still had some decent Uzis lying around. But I kept thinking th at something was brewing. That I would be bumped off. So I was al most relieved when the cops came and I got put away. I thought I' d be safer in prison. They got me on an old case--I was only an a ccessory, but they had arrested two guys who both said that I had supplied them with weapons. I confessed to it on the spot. Rove r laughed hard. He started to cough. He leaned back in his chair. In, Knopf, 2014, 3, UsedAcceptable. The item is very worn but continues to work perfectly. Signs of wear can include aesthetic issues such as scratches, dents, worn and creased covers, folded page corners and minor liquid stains. All pages and the cover are intact, but the dust cover may be missing. Pages may include moderate to heavy amount of notes and highlighting, but the text is not obscured or unreadable. Page edges may have foxing (age related spots and browning). May NOT include discs, access code or other supplemental materials., 0<

2014, ISBN: 9780199757534

Gebundene Ausgabe

Knopf. Very Good. 6.68 x 1.38 x 9.58 inches. Hardcover. 2014. First edition. 416 pages. <br>Pub Date: 2014-05-13 Pages: 416 Language: English Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing … Mehr…

Knopf. Very Good. 6.68 x 1.38 x 9.58 inches. Hardcover. 2014. First edition. 416 pages. <br>Pub Date: 2014-05-13 Pages: 416 Language: English Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing ... The author of the best- selling Harry Hole series now gives us an electrifying stand-alon e novel set inside Oslo & rsquo; s maze of especially venal . hig h-level corruption Sonny Lofthus is a strangely charismatic and c omplacent young man Sonny & rsquo;.... s been in prison for a doz en years. nearly half his life The inmates who seek out his uncan ny abilities to soothe leave his cell feeling absolved They don & rsquo; t know or care that Sonny has a serious heroin habit & md ash; or where or how he gets his uninterrupted supply of the drug Or that he & rsquo;. s serving time for other peoples & rsquo;. crimes Sonny took the first steps toward addiction when his fathe r took his own life rather than face exposure as a corrupt cop No w Sonny is the seemingly malleable center of a whole infr... Edi torial Reviews From Booklist *Starred Review* On the surface, Ne sbø's gripping new stand-alone might seem like another installmen t of the Harry Hole series but featuring a new cast of characters . A serial killer is at work in Oslo, and a maverick cop with his share of personal demons is on his trail. But beneath that surfa ce, there is a complex psychological thriller churning its way in to the reader's nightmares. Sonny Lofthus is in prison for crimes he didn't commit but for which he has agreed to take the fall--i n exchange for an unending supply of heroin. The drugs are Sonny' s way of dealing with the knowledge that his father, an apparent suicide, was a dirty cop. As the novel begins, however, Sonny has new information about his father's death and has engineered a da ring escape from prison. His revenge-fueled plan is to kill those responsible for the crimes he was convicted of by re-creating th e murders with the real killers now the victims. The more we lear n about Sonny, the more we root for him to evade capture, either by the police or by the crime lord who wants him dead. Juggling p oint of view between Sonny, Simon Kefas (the cop chasing him), an d the various corrupt officials who risk exposure the longer Sonn y is free, Nesbø thwarts our every attempt to draw conclusions ab out both what happened in the past and who is the least guilty am ong the principals. There is an element of the classic film noir Breathless at work here but with more characters of varying shade s of gray whose fates hinge on numerous moving parts. A terrific thriller but also a tragic, very moving story of intertwined char acters swerving desperately to avoid the dead ends in their paths . HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: With 24 million copies of his books sold , Nesbø is now second only to Stieg Larsson among Scandinavian cr ime writers. His fame is sure to grow still more as Martin Scorse se and Leonardo DiCaprio are about to begin filming The Snowman. --Bill Ott Review A deftly plotted novel that probes the deepest mysteries: sin, redemption, love, evil, the human condition. . . . One of Nesb's best, deepest and richest novels. --Kirkus Revie ws (starred review) Excellent . . . Nesb takes the reader on a c hilling ride with many unexpected twists. --Publishers Weekly (st arred review) The standard bearer for the phenomenon that is Sca ndinavian crime fiction. . . . Fast-paced and imaginatively viole nt, this latest example of Nesbo's Nordic noir hurtles like an ex press train towards a last act of almost operatic extravagance th at leaves dead bodies and carefully nurtured reputations litterin g the stage. Great stuff altogether. --Independent (Ireland) [Ne sb is] one of the current leading lights in Scandinavian crime fi ction . . . Ridiculously talented . . . with his clear gift for h airpin twists and turns. . . . The thriller is so tightly plotted that it will keep readers steadfastly glued to their seat. . . . What Nesb has crafted is not a whodunit in the traditional sense , as the writer is interested in the far more fascinating questio n of what can drive a person to evil? --Daily Style (Australia) Scandinavian Reviews Nesb's new book makes all the hype before p ublication seem like false modesty, and is quite simply a fantast ic piece of crime literature. . . . First and foremost, this is a clever, enthralling and driven story that is impossible to put d own. --Dagens Nringsliv (Norway) Yet another powerful demonstrat ion of Nesb's talent for creating a story that plays on all nerve strands and with so much intensity that it embodies both the Bib le and Batman at once. It is really well done. It is still early in the year, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone should dub Th e Son as the crime novel of the year. --Ekstra Bladet (Denmark) The pace proves to be on top in the new book, in a positive sense . This remains Norwegian crime literature in a class by itself. A plot that stretches and spreads out like great mathematical form ulas, with many unfamiliar characters in the equation, but withou t being arcane or excessive in his fantastic interpretations. . . . Jo Nesb prevails once again. --Dagsavisen (Norway) The Son is a modern take on the story about Christ, that tackles the corrup tion in Oslo. . . . Jo Nesb's writing is incredible as usual. --J yllands-Posten (Denmark) Tremendously well written by Nesb. . . . There is something unstoppably vital about Jo Nesb as a designe r of crime stories in the baroque style. His pen is on fire and a lthough it may be noted that it goes too fast sometimes linguisti cally, the stories he creates has so many staggering twists and t urns that it is almost physically impossible not to get hooked. - -Aftenposten (Norway) Crime novels are rarely so skillfully told and at the same time so much more than pure entertainment. But N esb is a master. --Berlingske (Denmark) No Norwegian crime write r can create such complex crime plots without losing in detail li ke Nesb can. You might say that Nesb is both high and low in his texts, and that is one of the main reasons why his novels rise ab ove most others in this genre. --Dagbladet (Norway) It is a form idable, diabolically clever and devilishly good book that is well put together, down to the smallest detail. --Nordjyske Stiftstid ene (Denmark) The story . . . is propelled with great force and an unerring sense of detail. . . . It is simply thrilling to read . --NRK (Norway) Fast-paced and rip-roaring suspenseful. --Polit iken (Denmark) No one at our latitudes knows the game like Nesb does. No one is even close to his craftsmanship in writing crime novels that hold such international standard. --Adresseavisen (No rway) A high level of suspense all the way and limitless brutali ty. The bad guys get what they deserves and Nesb's writing is alm ost more cynical and concrete than usual. There are also a few lo ve stories along the way, that--almost--end happily. --Lolland-Fa lsters Folketidende (Denmark) About the Author JO NESB is a musi cian, songwriter, and economist, as well as a writer. His Harry H ole novels include The Redeemer, The Snowman, The Leopard, and Ph antom, and he is also the author of several stand-alone novels an d the Doctor Proctor series of children's books. He is the recipi ent of numerous awards including the Glass Key for best Nordic cr ime novel. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserve d. 1 Rover kept his eyes on the white-painted concrete floor in the eleven-square-metre prison cell. He bit down on the slightly too long gold front tooth in his lower jaw. He had reached the ha rdest part of his confession. The only sound in the cell was his nails scratching the madonna tattoo on his forearm. The boy sitti ng cross-legged on the bed opposite him had remained silent ever since Rover had entered. He had merely nodded and smiled his blis sful Buddha smile, his gaze fixed at a point on Rover's forehead. People called the boy Sonny and said that he had killed two peop le as a teenager, that his father had been a corrupt police offic er and that Sonny had healing hands. It was hard to see if the bo y was listening--his green eyes and most of his face were hidden behind his long, matted hair--but that didn't matter. Rover just wanted his sins forgiven and to receive Sonny's distinctive bless ing so that tomorrow he could walk out of Staten Maximum Security Prison with the feeling of being a truly cleansed man. Not that Rover was religious, but it could do no harm when he intended to change, to give going straight a real try. Rover took a deep brea th. I think she was from Belarus. Minsk is in Belarus, isn't it? Rover looked up quickly, but the boy made no reply. Nestor had n icknamed her Minsk, Rover said. He told me to shoot her. The obv ious advantage of confessing to someone whose brain was fried was that no name and incident would stick; it was like talking to yo urself. This might explain why inmates at Staten preferred this g uy to the chaplain or the psychologist. Nestor kept her and eigh t other girls in a cage down in Enerhaugen. East Europeans and As ians. Young. Teenagers. At least I hope they were as old as that. But Minsk was older. Stronger. She escaped. Got as far as Tyen P ark before Nestor's dog caught her. One of those Argentine mastif fs--know what I'm talking about? The boy's eyes never moved, but he raised his hand. Found his beard. He started to comb it slowl y with his fingers. The sleeve of his filthy, oversized shirt sli pped down and revealed scabs and needle marks. Rover went on. Bl oody big albino dogs. Kills anything its owner points at. And qui te a lot he doesn't. Banned in Norway, 'course. A guy out in Rlen gen got some from the Czech Republic, breeds them and registers t hem as white boxers. Me and Nestor went there to buy one when it was a pup. It cost more than fifty grand in cash. The puppy was s o cute you wouldn't ever think it . . . Rover stopped. He knew he was only talking about the dog to put off the inevitable. Anyway . . . Anyway. Rover looked at the tattoo on his other forearm. A cathedral with two spires. One for each sentence he had served, neither of which had anything to do with today's confession. He used to supply guns to a biker gang and modify some of them in hi s workshop. He was good at it. Too good. So good that he couldn't remain below the radar forever and he was caught. And so good th at, while serving his first sentence, Nestor had taken him under his wing. Nestor had made sure he owned him so that from then on only Nestor would get his hands on the best guns, rather than the biker gang or any other rivals. He had paid him more for a few m onths' work than Rover could ever hope to earn in a lifetime in h is workshop fixing motorbikes. But Nestor had demanded a lot in r eturn. Too much. She was lying in the bushes, blood everywhere. She just lay there, dead still, staring up at us. The dog had tak en a chunk out of her face--you could see straight to the teeth. Rover grimaced. Get to the point. Nestor said it was time to teac h them a lesson, show the other girls what would happen to them. And that Minsk was worthless to him now anyway, given the state o f her face . . . Rover swallowed. So he told me to do it. Finish her off. That's how I'd prove my loyalty, you see. I had an old R uger MK II pistol that I'd done some work on. And I was going to do it. I really was. That wasn't the problem . . . Rover felt hi s throat tighten. He had thought about it so often, gone over tho se seconds during that night in Tyen Park, seeing the girl over a nd over again. Nestor and himself taking the leading roles with t he others as silent witnesses. Even the dog had been silent. He h ad thought about it perhaps a hundred times. A thousand? And yet it wasn't until now, when he said the words out loud for the firs t time, that he realised that it hadn't been a dream, that it rea lly had happened. Or rather it was as if his body hadn't accepted it until now. That was why his stomach was churning. Rover breat hed deeply through his nose to quell the nausea. But I couldn't do it. Even though I knew she was gonna die. They had the dog at the ready and I was thinking that me, I'd have preferred a bullet . But it was as if the trigger was locked in position. I just cou ldn't pull it. The young man seemed to be nodding faintly. Eithe r in response to what Rover was telling him or to music only he c ould hear. Nestor said we didn't have all day, we were in a publ ic park after all. So he took out a small, curved knife from a le g holster, stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her u p and just seemed to swing the knife in front of her throat. As i f gutting a fish. Blood spurted out three, four times, then she w as empty. But d'you know what I remember most of all? The dog. Ho w it started howling at the sight of all that blood. Rover leane d forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees. He covered h is ears with his hands and rocked back and forth. And I did noth ing. I just stood there, looking on. I did fuck all. While they w rapped her in a blanket and carried her to the car, I just watche d. We drove her to the woods, to stmarksetra. Lifted her out and rolled her down the slope towards Ulsrudsvannet. Lots of people t ake their dogs for walks there so she was found the next day. The point was, Nestor wanted her to be found, d'you get me? He wante d pictures in the papers of what had happened to her. So he could show them to the other girls. Rover removed his hands from his ears. I stopped sleeping; every time I closed my eyes I had nigh tmares. The girl with the missing cheek smiled at me and bared al l her teeth. So I went to see Nestor and told him I wanted out. S aid I'd had enough of filing down Uzis and Glocks, that I wanted to go back to fixing motorbikes. Live a quiet life, not worry abo ut the cops the whole time. Nestor said that was OK, he'd probabl y sussed that I didn't have it in me to be a tough guy. But he ma de it very clear what would happen to me if I talked. I thought w e were sorted. I turned down every job I was offered even though I still had some decent Uzis lying around. But I kept thinking th at something was brewing. That I would be bumped off. So I was al most relieved when the cops came and I got put away. I thought I' d be safer in prison. They got me on an old case--I was only an a ccessory, but they had arrested two guys who both said that I had supplied them with weapons. I confessed to it on the spot. Rove r laughed hard. He started to cough. He leaned back in his chair. In, Knopf, 2014, 3, Arrow. Good. 5.12 x 1.75 x 7.81 inches. Paperback. 2008. 816 pages. Cover worn<br>Campbell, Alastair Editorial Reviews A bout the Author Alastair Campbell was born in Keighley, Yorkshire in 1957, the son of a vet. After graduating from Cambridge Unive rsity in modern languages, his first chosen career was journalism , principally with the Mirror Group. When Tony Blair became leade r of the Labour Party, he asked Campbell to be his press secretar y. He worked for Blair - first in that capacity, then as official spokesman and director of communications and strategy - from 199 4 to 2003, since when he has been engaged mainly in writing, publ ic speaking and working for Leukaemia Research, where he is chair man of fundraising. He has continued to act as an advisor to Mr B lair and the Labour Party, including during the 2005 election cam paign. He lives in North London with his partner of 25 years, Fio na Millar. They have three children Rory, 19, Calum, 17 and Grace , 12. His interests include running, triathlon, bagpipes and Burn ley Football Club. From the Hardcover edition. Excerpt. ® Repri nted by permission. All rights reserved. The following are excerp ts from Alastair Campbell's The Blair Years. Mr. Campbell's comme nts on the entries are in bold. Meeting Diana As a journalist, I had often been critical of Princess Diana. The moment I met her , former negative thoughts were banished. Thursday, May 4, 1995 Local elections. Terry picked me up to go to collect TB/CB to go to Walworth Rd for the results coming in. They were at a dinner in Hyde Park Gardens that had been organised for them to meet Pri ncess Diana. I rang the bell and said could you tell Mr Blair his car is here. I went back to the car and the next thing TB is tap ping at the car window and he says: 'Someone wants to meet you.' I get out and she's walking towards me, and she says: 'There he i s, can I come over and say hello,' and then she's standing there, absolutely, spellbindingly, drop-dead gorgeous, in a way that th e millions of photos didn't quite get it. She said hello, held ou t her hand and said she was really pleased to meet me, so I mumbl ed something back about me being more pleased and how I didn't ex pect when I left the house tonight that I'd end up standing in th e middle of the road talking to her. 'It would make a very funny picture if there were any paparazzi in those trees,' she said. TB was standing back and Cherie was looking impatient and I was jus t enjoying flirting with her. I asked if he had behaved well and she said yes, very well. I said in that case I think you should come with us to Walworth Road and create an almighty sensation. 'I just might,' she said. Northern Ireland In the introduction to the book I cite TB's optimism and resilience as two of his gre atest qualities. Here, in his second week as Prime Minister, the optimism is on display after a weekend spent reflecting on Northe rn Ireland. The resilience would follow as, over the course of hi s Premiership, he secured progress towards peace. Monday, May 12 , 1997 TB said he reckoned he could see a way of sorting the No rthern Ireland problem. I loved the way he said it, like nobody h ad thought of it before. I said what makes you think you can do i t when nobody else could? Death of Diana The events following t he death of Diana are recorded in some detail in the book. Here i s a short extract which records how I heard the news, and how TB initially reacted. Saturday, August 30, 1997 I got to bed, and at around two I was paged by media monitoring: 'Car crash in Pari s. Dodi killed. Di hurt. This is not a joke.' Then TB came on. He had been called by Number 10 and told the same thing. He was rea lly shocked. He said she was in a coma and the chances are she'd die. I don't think I'd ever heard him like this. He was full of p auses, then gabbling a little, but equally clear what we had to d o. We started to prepare a statement. We talked through the thing s we would have to do tomorrow, if she died. By now the phones we re starting from the press, and I didn't sleep. Then about an hou r later Nick, the duty clerk, called and said simply 'She's dead. The Prime Minister is being told now.' I went through on the cal l. Angus Lapsley was duty private secretary and was taking him th rough what we knew. But it was hard to get beyond the single fact of her death. 'I can't believe this. I just can't believe it,' s aid TB. 'You just can't take it in, can you?' And yet, as ever wi th TB, he was straight onto the ramifications. Historic day with Sinn Fein There were many important milestones on the road to t he Good Friday Agreement, which was perhaps the greatest high of my entire time with TB, elections included. This extract relates to one such milestone, the first visit to Downing Street by Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness, two men crucial to the peace proces s. Thursday, December 11, 1997 Gerry Adams and his team arrived 15 minutes early, and he did a little number in the street, wher e the media numbers were huge. This was a big moment, potentially historic in the progress it could lead to. They came inside and we kept them waiting while we went over what TB was due to say. M o Mowlam and Paul Murphy were both there and Mo was pretty fed up , feeling she was getting shit from all sides. They were hovering around the lifts and were summoned down to the Cabinet room. We had agreed TB should be positive but firm. He actually came over as friendly, welcoming them individually as they came in. I shook McGuinness by the hand, who as he sat down said, fairly loudly, 'So this is the room where all the damage was done.' It was a cla ssic moment where the different histories played out. Everyone on our side thought he was referring to the mortar attack on Major, and we were shocked. Yet it became obvious from their surprise a t our shock that he was referring to policymaking down the years, and Britain's involvement in Ireland. 'No, no, I meant 1921,' he said. I found McGuinness more impressive than Adams, who did the big statesman bit, and talked in grand historical sweeps, but Mc Guinness just made a point and battered it, and forced you to tak e it on board. Of the women, I could not work out whether they re ally mattered, or whether they just took them round with them to look a bit less hard. They were tough as boots all three of them. TB was good in the use of language and captured well the sense o f history and occasion. He said we faced a choice of history - vi olence and despair, or peace and progress. We were all taking ris ks, but they are risks worth taking. He said to Adams he wanted t o be able to look him in the eye, hear him say he was committed t o peaceful means, and he wanted to believe him. I was eyeing thei r reaction to TB the whole time, and both Adams and McG regularly let a little smile cross their lips. Martin Ferris [Sinn Fein ne gotiator] was the one who just stared. Mo got pissed off, volubly , when they said she wasn't doing enough. TB was maybe not as fir m as we had planned, but he did ask - which I decided not to brie f, and knew they wouldn't - whether they would be able to sign up to a settlement that did not explicitly commit to a united Irela nd. Adams was OK, but McGuinness was not. Adams said the prize of a lasting peace justifies the risks. Lloyd George, Balfour, Glad stone, Cromwell, they all thought they had answers of sorts. We w ant our answers to be the endgame. A cobbled-together agreement w ill not stand the test of time. He pushed hard on prisoners being released, and the aim of total demilitarisation, and TB just lis tened. TB said he would not be a persuader for a united Ireland. The principle of consent was central to the process. Adams said i f TB could not be a persuader, he could be a facilitator. He said we would be dead in 40 years, but in the meantime this was the b iggest test of TB's time in office, how he deals with the displac ed citizens in a divided territory. 9/11 September 11 was meant to be another fairly routine day. It came to be a defining momen t in the Blair years and would ensure foreign policy dominated hi s second term. As with Diana's death, once the initial shock subs ided, he was straight onto the ramifications. Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I woke up to the usual blah on the radio about TB and the TUC speech, all the old BBC clichés about us and the unions, the only new thing GMB ads asking if you trust TB not to privatis e the NHS. Peter H and I went up to the flat. TB had done a good section on public-private, an effective hit back at the Edmonds l ine. With the economy, public services, Europe/euro and a bit on asylum, we had a proper speech. We sharpened it and honed it a bi t. He was furious at the GMB ads, said he intended to give Edmond s a real hammering. We finished it on the train to Brighton, were met and driven to the hotel. We were there, up at the top of th e hotel putting the finishing touches to the speech, when the att acks on the New York Twin Towers began. Godric was watching in th e little room where the Garden Room girl had set up, came up to t he top of the little staircase leading to the bit where TB and I were working, and signalled for me to go down. It was all a bit c haotic, with the TV people going into their usual breathless brea king-news mode, but it was clearly something way out of the ordin ary. I went upstairs, turned on the TV and said to TB he ought to watch it. It was now even clearer than just a few moments ago ju st how massive an event this was. It was also one that was going to have pretty immediate implications for us too. We didn't watch the TV that long, but long enough for TB to reach the judgement about just how massive an event this was in its impact and implic ations. It's possible we were talking about thousands dead. We wo uld also have to make immediate judgements about buildings and in stitutions to protect here. TB was straight onto the diplomatic s ide as well, said that we had to help the US, that they could not go it all on their own, that they felt beleaguered and that this would be tantamount to a military attack in their minds. We had to decide whether we should cancel the speech. There was always a moment in these terrorist outrages where governments said we mus t not let the terrorists change what we do, but it was meaningles s. Of course they changed what we did. At first, we felt it best to go ahead with the speech but by the time we were leaving for t he venue, the Towers were actually collapsing. The scale of the h orror and the damage was increasing all the time and it was perfe ctly obvious he couldn't do the speech. We went over to the confe rence centre, where TB broke the news to John Monks [TUC general secretary] and Brendan Barber that he intended to go on, say a fe w words, but then we would have to head back to London. We would issue the text but he would not deliver the speech. Monks said to me that it's on days like this that you realise just how big his job is. TB's mind was whirring with it. His brief statement to t he TUC went down well, far better than his speech would have done . We walked back to the hotel, both of us conscious there seemed to be a lot more security around. We arranged a series of confere nce calls through Jonathan with Jack Straw, Geoff Hoon, David Blu nkett. We asked Richard Wilson to fix a Cobra meeting as soon as we got back. We set off for Brighton station. He said the conseq uences of this were enormous. On the train he was subdued, though we did raise a smile when someone said it was the first and last time he would get a standing ovation from the TUC. Robert Hill w as listening to the radio on his earpiece and filling us in every now and then. TB asked for a pad and started to write down some of the issues we would have to address when we got back. He said the big fear was terrorists capable of this getting in league wit h rogue states that would help them. He'd been going on about bin Laden for a while because there had been so much intelligence ab out him and al-Qaeda. He wanted to commission proper reports on O BL and all the other terror groups. He made a note of the need to reach out to the British Muslim community, who would fear a back lash if this was bin Laden. Everyone seemed convinced it couldn't be anyone else. Crucial talks with Bush The Blair-Clinton rela tionship was easy for people to understand, his close relationshi p with President Bush less so. TB was determined to get on with h im, and believed maximum public support, particularly post Septem ber 11, led to increased private influence, including on the effo rts to resolve Iraq through the UN. Saturday, September 7, 2002 When TB came back in, GWB said he'd decided to go to the UN and put down a new UNSCR, challenge the UN to deal with the problems for its own sake. He could not stand by. He would say OK, what wi ll you do? Earlier, not too convincingly, Karen [Hughes, GWB's co mmunications adviser] had claimed GWB was always going to go down the UN route. Cheney looked very sour throughout, and after dinn er, when TB and Bush walked alone to the chopper, Bush was open w ith him that Cheney was in a different position. Earlier, when we had said that the international community was pressing for some direction but that in the US there would be people saying 'Why ar e you going to the UN, why aren't you doing it now?' Cheney smile d across the table, making it pretty clear that was where he was. The mood was good. As we left, Bush joked to me 'I suppose you c an tell the story of how Tony flew in and pulled the crazed unila teralist back from the brink.' He was very clear on the threat, a nd the need of the UN to deal with it. He said he would get somet hing on the Middle East. 'That's a promise.' He was, as Sally Mor gan [director of political and government relations] said, far mo re impressive close up. Robin Cook's resignation and Commons deb ate over Iraq The day before the defining Commons vote on Iraq, Robin Cook resigned, adding to a sense of crisis and a Prime Mini ster's future on the line as he sought to persuade Parliament to support military action. Monday, March 17, 2003 TB started Cabi net, introduced Goldsmith, then Clare came in and asked Sally whe re Robin was. 'He's gone,' said Sal. 'Oh my God.' TB's only refer ence to Robin was to say that he had resigned. Peter Goldsmith we nt through the answer on legal authority to use force. One by one , a succession of colleagues expressed s, Arrow, 2008, 2.5, UsedAcceptable. The item is very worn but continues to work perfectly. Signs of wear can include aesthetic issues such as scratches, dents, worn and creased covers, folded page corners and minor liquid stains. All pages and the cover are intact, but the dust cover may be missing. Pages may include moderate to heavy amount of notes and highlighting, but the text is not obscured or unreadable. Page edges may have foxing (age related spots and browning). May NOT include discs, access code or other supplemental materials., 0<

2011, ISBN: 9780199757534

Oxford University Press, Taschenbuch, Auflage: 5, 536 Seiten, Publiziert: 2011-07-01T00:00:01Z, Produktgruppe: Buch, 2.09 kg, Bibelarbeit, Kommentare & Auslegungen, Bibel & Bibelkunde, C… Mehr…

Oxford University Press, Taschenbuch, Auflage: 5, 536 Seiten, Publiziert: 2011-07-01T00:00:01Z, Produktgruppe: Buch, 2.09 kg, Bibelarbeit, Kommentare & Auslegungen, Bibel & Bibelkunde, Christentum & Theologie, Religion & Glaube, Kategorien, Bücher, Lexika, Konkordanzen & Handbücher, Religions- & Kirchenkritik, Religion & Gesellschaft, Taschenbücher, Fremdsprachige Bücher, Englische Bücher, Oxford University Press, 2011<