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0982888422 Price: $11.99 Score: 1000.000 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.6 Votes: 25 Find similar products The Translated Man and Other Stories. About the Author Chris Braak is a playwright and novelist, and co-founder of Threat Quality Press. He has many important opinions on a wide variety of subjects, and rarely hesitates to offer them.	B00E1BQ3BO Availability: Currently unavailable Score: 3.788 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.6 Votes: 6 Find similar products As His Shown Such Faces to Portrays, Shocking Case Our Such Traits His Prowess Tragic an Copy Portrays Given So for Certainly Without. Fact thus new death without given can doom can portrayal depicts for point ever manifestation defined point case fact problem, point.
1452891435 Price: $12.99 Score: 3.745 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.8 Votes: 10 Find similar products The Last Bartender. About the Author I started my first novel sometime in mid-2000, on a Metro-North commuter train traveling into Manhattan, writing on my then new Mac Powerbook. The title stuck--The Third Revolution--but the rest of the work I'd completed was tossed out in early 2002 when I started the project anew. I completed that manuscript, found and worked with a professional editor, and, after spending about a year learning how not to attract a literary agent, I eventually took a chance on the then cutting edge publish-on-demand technology and got the book out there. The first paperback edition of The Third Revolution appeared on Amazon (as well as in several local bricks-and mortar bookstores) in May of 2004. I have to admit, I liked the feeling.Better than a decade later I'm still working on that same Mac Powerbook, and have somehow managed to write and publish six novels (The Third Revolution, Middle America, Little Birdies!, The Last Bartender, The Cenacle Scroll and Aqua Vitae).In my pre-MBA days, a time when I had ready access to fast motorcycles and sympathetic women, I worked as a bartender at the historic Peter Luger Steakhouse in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Manhattan, the El Morocco Club on Second Avenue, the infamous Diamond's Whisky Parlor in Flushing and poured shots-and-beers (and kept my head down) through several stabbings and the occasional gunfire at Pirate's Pub in Kew Gardens, Queens. I re-entered the industry in 2011, working the bar at Frogs End Tavern within the elegant Glenmere Mansion, an exclusive eighteen-room boutique hotel in Chester, NY, and from behind the stick at the President's Bar at the venerable Powelton Country Club in Newburgh, NY. Today I can be found plying my trade at The King Street Restaurant & Bar in Chappaqua,NY. The motorcycles and women have yet to reemerge, but I remain ever hopeful in that regard.	B00CTO4FSI Availability: Currently unavailable Score: 3.717 Category: Electronics Rating: 5 Votes: 3 Find similar products Representing Manifestation Can Good Depicts Traits Has Personal Copy Story Tragic Inevitable Tragic Untimely Because Lot God for Depicts Far in Severe Formula. Whereas time by God has ergo so unknowingly presents copy prophecy without to faces hero thus manifest certainly representing such prophecy new moreover in.
B003K9495U Availability: Currently unavailable Score: 3.690 Category: Electronics Rating: 3.9 Votes: 4 Find similar products New Whereas to Once Given Personal Far Depict Portrayal Point Specifically for Thus. Humanity prophecy represents hero lot far shown our a as faces certainly manifest in given yet specifically due to ergo due to good.	1476773092 Price: $11.91 Score: 3.650 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.9 Votes: 9314 Find similar products Unfreedom of the Press. Review PRAISE FOR UNFREEDOM OF THE PRESS The most important book of 2019 — and 2020... Mark Levin hits it out of the park every single time. He is the Babe Ruth of freedom. — The American Spectator Levin's finest work. —Joel Pollak, Breitbart “Mark Levin trounces the news media.” –The Washington Times Superb and timely...[Unfreedom of the Press] will in the future be an important historical source for this extraordinary period. —Roger Simon, PJ Media “Nails it exactly…truer words could not be spoken.” –Jeffrey Lord, The American Spectator “For clear-thinking Americans, Levin’s book comes along in the right place, at the right time.” – Craig Shirley, syndicated columnist PRAISE FOR MARK LEVIN Millions have been inspired by Levin to be missionaries for liberty. Levin is too modest to accept the label of hero, but to lead the reawakening of constitutionalism and to shape a mass movement around it is a Herculean feat.… There simply is no comparable mind on the side of the Left.— Spyridon Mitsotakis, Daily Wire Those who only know Mark Levin for his radio program or his Sunday night show on Fox News are missing out on one of conservatism’s best writers. Levin’s books offer detailed, fleshed out renderings of the arguments he makes on his shows. They’re punchy, witty, and easily digestible. —The Federalist I was introduced to Levin when I was a young high schooler who knew and cared little about politics. Until, one day, my friend showed me a video of Mark Levin. That day my life was changed. He persuaded me to dedicate my life to fighting for freedom. In addition to his great work, Mark must be recognized for creating an army of energized freedom fighters that will continue to promote the cause long into the future. —Elliot Fuchs, Daily Wire ... [The] Fox News program Life Liberty & Levin, hosted by Mark Levin ... is more intellectual than anything produced on ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN or MSNBC. Nothing they have on air comes even close.— Brent Bozell, Media Research Center “…Mark Levin was officially inducted into the National Radio Hall of Fame, and one wonders what took so long. His induction was presented by fellow Hall of Famers Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity, and the three figures comprise what can accurately be described as the talk radio 'Mount Rushmore.'— Larry O'Connor, The Washington Times “A warrior of the right of longstanding…simply calling Levin a radio talk show host or a Fox TV host is like calling Nolan Ryan just another pitcher.” –Craig Shirley, syndicated columnist About the Author Mark R. Levin, nationally syndicated talk radio host, host of LevinTV , chairman of Landmark Legal Foundation, and the host of the Fox News show Life, Liberty, & Levin , is the author of seven consecutive #1 New York Times bestsellers: Liberty and Tyranny , Ameritopia , The Liberty Amendments , Plunder and Deceit , Rediscovering Americanism , Unfreedom of the Press , and American Marxism. Liberty and Tyranny spent three months at #1 and sold more than 1.5 million copies. His books Men in Black and Rescuing Sprite were also New York Times bestsellers. Levin is an inductee of the National Radio Hall of Fame and was a top adviser to several members of President Ronald Reagan’s cabinet. He holds a BA from Temple University and a JD from Temple University Law School. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Unfreedom of the Press Read more.
7546221978 Price: $228.99 Score: 3.610 Category: Electronics Rating: 5 Votes: 12 Find similar products (朗声旧版)金庸作品集套装（套装全36册）附白马啸西风、鸳鸯刀、越女剑. .	0375503757 Price: $42.61 Score: 3.610 Category: Electronics Rating: 3.3 Votes: 120 Find similar products What She Saw...: A Novel. Amazon.com Review Sometimes in a moment of limbo or confusion, it's advisable to make a list. An inventory of accomplishments, a chart of pros and cons. Lucinda Rosenfeld's first novel takes as its form a list of past boyfriends. Each section finishes the sentence begun in its title, What She Saw... in Roger Mancuso, or 'The Stink Bomb King of Fifth Grade.' Later, in college, it's Humphrey Fung, or 'The Anarchist Feminist.' The book's shape and humor come from the gathering logic of this catalog, how our heroine is repeatedly fooled by the illusions of lust, always looking for something new, someone who can eclipse the failed romances of the past. Rosenfeld's protagonist, Phoebe Fine, is a sharp-tongued brainiac with rotten self-esteem. Born and raised in suburban New Jersey, she's the daughter of professional classical musicians, hippie theater types who embarrass their kids; they are always going into geeky raptures on the subject of chamber music or obscure lost arts. Phoebe wishes she could be considered normal. She wishes she had blond hair and perfect teeth, but instead she's painfully ordinary: in the chapter Jason Barry Gold, or 'The Varsity Lacrosse Stud' Rosenfeld riffs expertly on the subject of Phoebe's ordinariness: That's how ugly she was--ugly by virtue of the fact that she was unmemorable, a slab of alabaster awaiting a sculptor who never arrived, a nothing burger if there ever was one. Take her nose: it just kind of ended, and her forehead just kind of began--kind of like the weeks in a year and the years in a life. It was the same with her waist and her hips, and her neck and her shoulders. There was nothing definitive about her. She was just this filet of human flesh--just this blah girl running laps behind the gym until she thought her legs would snap, her heart explode. The search for true love keeps Phoebe in a state of high anxiety. It's a wonder she ever gets any sleep. When the right guy gives her the right kind of attention, she's queen for a day. Alone, without the prospect of a lover, she starves herself, drinks too much, occasionally stares into the mystery of her past. What did she see in those men? What did they see in her? At once erotic and awkward, lightweight and troubling, Rosenfeld's debut possesses a powerful charm. Readers who grew up in the '70s and '80s will recognize the landmarks: Farah Fawcett posters, boring social studies classes explaining glasnost. Rosenfeld's a former New York Post nightlife columnist, and What She Saw... has the quick pace, twittering freshness, and panicked hipness of a club-hopper. Deadpan and stylish, it's a novel whose author is out to prove herself. And prove herself she does, in spades. --Emily White From Publishers Weekly Both breaking up and growing up are hard to do, learns Phoebe Fine, the protagonist of Rosenfeld's engaging, nostalgic and sometimes frustrating first novel. Each chapter is devoted to a man who has captured Phoebe's attention, affection and occasionally her heart, between the ages of 10 and 25, starting with Robert Mancuso, or 'The Stink Bomb King of Fifth Grade.' Young Phoebe, the intellectuallyAif not sociallyAprecocious daughter of two professional classical musicians, is sassy and sympathetic in the amusing early chapters. But once she enters college, romance shows its darker sides, and Phoebe's desire to be loved takes its toll on her self-esteem. She develops eating disorders and suffers lapses of judgment in her amorous encounters; she has an affair with a married professor, and succumbs emotionally to a number of cads. At the age of 20, Rosenfeld writes, men had become the centerpiece of her life. After graduation, Phoebe moves to New York and dabbles in promiscuity to prove the power of her beauty, only to learn that being beautiful wasn't nearly enough. Her search for self, fulfillment and true love goes on, though she's far too cynical to find anything but moments of clarity and fleeting bliss. Rosenfeld's style is direct and often witty, and the plot device is intriguing. The reader gets to know Phoebe as she interacts with her love interests; as she tests her mettle, she learns who she is, even if she doesn't quite like who she's become. But it's exasperating to watch Phoebe the wise, funny girl grows into Phoebe the insecure woman who mistrusts her own heart. First serial to the New Yorker. (Sept.) WINTER RANGE Claire Davis. Picador USA, $23 (272p) ISBN 0-312-26140-3 ~ The New West is the setting for an old-fashioned power struggle in Davis's entrancing debut. Sheriff Ike Parsons, 42 and married to fiery redhead Pattiann, patiently patrols a small Montana town whose cattle outnumber its residents. Pattiann, who always loved the ranching life, was reluctant to settle into her role as a townie's wife, and is bitter over her father's decision to pass on the family ranch to her younger brother. It seems a modern Western woman is powerless, except in the sexual realm, which Pattiann discovered as a rebellious, promiscuous teen. Chas Stubblefield was one of the many boys she drunkenly coupled with in her youth, and 16 years later, when Chas comes to her for sympathy, she fools herself into thinking that she and the down-and-out rancher might still strike sparks. A lonely bachelor, Chas lacks business savvy, and can't afford enough feed for his livestock during a particularly harsh winter. Compassionate (but ignorant of Chas's past with Pattiann), Ike offers to help Chas, fully expecting the stubborn, explosive man to swallow his pride. Chas's situation is indeed horrifying: his cattle are already dead or starving, and bankrupt Chas lives off the meat. Ike conceives a plan to mercy-kill the surviving animals, provoking Chas, now helpless to stop the law from taking everything he owns, to settle the score, even if it means hurting the woman he loves. Crisp details establish place and characters with authoritative clarity. As the characterization deepens, so do the suspense and the reader's empathy for decent people trapped by human flaws and fate. The narrative, moving surefootedly toward its denouement, raises serious questions about the law, love and ethics in a tough rural community. With prose as crystalline and clean as snow on the Montana prairie, Davis establishes herself as a writer to watch. Author tour. (Sept.) Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Library Journal Rosenfeld's grasp on the confusing world of male-female relationships proves ineffective halfway through this debut novel, which is glib, flippant, and only marginally amusing. Phoebe Fine first encounters the perils of communicating with the opposite sex in fifth grade. Further experiences with men are revealed in chronological order, with each chapter named for a particularly memorable male. Following Phoebe through her first kiss, high school boyfriends, proms, college frat parties, first sexual experiences, married professors, and into the working world, the saga of her trials and tribulations with the male species becomes tiresome long before Phoebe settles into adulthood. It might have been more interesting if Phoebe herself were more than a weakly drawn composite of a Generation X female. Her male counterparts aren't any better. Although Phoebe's musings and reflections do offer the occasional poignant and somewhat sarcastic insight into the battle of the sexes, most libraries will not miss much in bypassing this title. A borderline purchase at best for most fiction collections.DMargaret Hanes, Sterling Heights P.L., MI Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Booklist What Phoebe Fine sees in most of the boys and, later, young men she meets is only half the fun of this debut novel. Instead of deciding what she wants, Phoebe seems to be stumbling from one to another, trying to figure out what it is she's missing. Her first love is Stinky Mancuso, whose major claim to fame is planting stinkbombs in school and performing other general mischief. She is attracted to his cocky yet mysterious manner. From there she moves more or less up and down the social ladder, from a frat boy who may or may not be a rapist to a married professor to a fellow musician. In the beginning, they do seem to have one thing in common: She had a thing for cocky assholes. When they expressed interest in her, it seemed meaningful. Meaningful or not, she seems hopeful that at some point she will come upon what she wants. In the meantime, she's having a good time trying to find Mr. Right, even if many of her picks seem to be variations of Mr. Wrong. Marlene Chamberlain Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved From Kirkus Reviews An episodic chronicle about low self-esteem that's intelligent and well observed but mired in a callow attitude devoid of perspective.Lacking the goofy charm of Bridget Jones or the satisfying growth and closure of High Fidelity , this memoir-ish debut offers instead the biting cynicism and self-lacerating humor of a prematurely embittered young sophisticate manqué. Each chapter-or, perhaps more properly, story, as this is as much collection as novel-is named for one of the boys or men who Phoebe Fine, passing from the age of 11 to 25, has used to define herself. Growing up in suburban New Jersey in the '70s and '80s, the daughter of effete, ineffectual, classical musician parents, Phoebe, smart, Jewish, and pretty, lacks any sense of self-worth. Sent to a private school full of rich kids, dressed unfashionably or in designer seconds, Phoebe, who plays the violin and runs track, settles into the role of outsider. Starting with Stinky Mancuso, hardcore bad boy of the fifth grade, though (who-inexplicably, to Phoebe-takes a liking to her and then disappears), she forges an identity from the attention of men. As Phoebe goes from prep school to college sorority (with bouts of anorexia and bulimia) and on to New York City, Rosenfeld recounts her affairs. Spitty Clark, a solicitous, not-too-bright frat boy, turns out to have a reputation as a date-rapist; Phoebe embraces him to defy her condescending sorority sisters. Claude Duvet is the Frenchman she imagines she'll meet in Paris, but he never materializes and she returns home, defeated. Phoebe seduces Bruce Bledstone, a married college professor, but his intellectual aloofness, which lets her imagine herself as part of a more rarefied world than that of her peers, turns against her and makes their affair into an excruciatingly drawn-out thing. And so on.Portrait of the writer as a young drama queen: entertaining enough, but at the same time both a bit much and not much more. -- Copyright © 2000 Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. Review Check your romantic illusions at the door--Lucinda Rosenfeld's acerbically funny and remarkably assured debut novel catalogs the myriad humiliations, compromises, and misconceptions that add up to the history of one woman's 'love life.' This is a book that will make you laugh and wince in solidarity with its sexy, beleaguered heroine. --Tom Perrotta, author of Election From the Inside Flap fifth grade, Phoebe Fine, the daughter of an oboist in suburban New Jersey, finds that love is a risky game to play. There is Roger Mancuso, who offers Phoebe her first cigarette, her first kiss, and her first experience of loss. There is Spitty Clark, the frat boy and inveterate party animal who's a possible criminal but also somehow a man of honor. Later on, as a young woman living in New York, Phoebe crosses the path of arrogant Pablo Miles (né Peter Mandelbaum), who licks her hand moments after they meet. And so it goes, as Phoebe struggles to reconcile her conflicting desires for safety and adventure, sympathy and conquest. Lucinda Rosenfeld relates Phoebe's serial, seriocomic encounters with freshness, range, economy, and emotional precision:She understood the jealousy emaciation aroused in other women.She couldn't persuade herself to spend an entire hour's salary on a piece of bread and three zucchini rounds.Their first date was mo About the Author Lucinda Rosenfeld was born in New York City on the last day of the 1960s. She grew up in New Jersey and attended Cornell University. She has written for The New York Times Magazine, Harper's Bazaar, Elle, Slate, Word, and Talk. She was a nightlife columnist for the New York Post from 1996 to 1998. She lives in Brooklyn. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1. Roger MancusoOR The Stink Bomb King of Fifth Grade On the Tuesday before Easter, a substitute teacher appeared behind Mrs. Kosciouwicz's metal desk. His face looked like a dented Yukon potato. His jazz shoes were the color of cement. He was tall and thin except for a pillow-sized potbelly that spilled helplessly over his plaid pants. I'm Mr. Spumato, he announced to the assembled fifth-graders. And I'll be your sub until further notice. Euphoria swept through the classroom at the thought of Mrs. Kosciouwicz never coming back. She was always lecturing them about the importance of sitting up straight. She made them read the dictionary and watch boring filmstrips on the origins of math. She was highly intolerant of lateness and (despite her own abysmal record) deranged on the matter of absenteeism. Over the educational-games shelf, she'd hung a poster of a beak-nosed owl reading PROCRASTINATION IS THE THIEF OF TIME. On the back of the door, she'd tacked another one asserting SILENCE IS GOLDEN. The only time she baked them cupcakes was when Reagan beat Carter. The only time she let them leave school early was when Reagan got shot. Her pull-on pants were the color of dog shit. Her bosom hung down to her waist. Her bifocals hung from a necklace. She was probably only sixty. She seemed about as old as ancient Mesopotamia. Roger Mancuso's hand shot up-not before he'd blurted out, Did Mrs. K. croak-or what? What is your name, young man? snarled Mr. Spumato. Mick, he answered. Mick Jagger. Well, Mr. Jagger, said Spumato, trying to drown out the tsunami of laughter that rose from the back row. If you'd like to take your question to the principal, I'd be happy to accompany you to his office. 0000000hhhhh, crooned the class in unison. I just wanted to know if the old lady was alive, countered Roger. You'll know what I tell you! cried Spumato. I'll know what I want, said Roger. And I want to know what happened to my friggin' homeroom teacher. Now the class cheered. Poor Spumato. He must have known he was losing control. He couldn't have been happy about it. He pointed a single, trembling finger at his nemesis. One more peep, Mr. Jagger, and you're outta here for good! Then he cranked his thumb backward over his shoulder in the direction of the principal's office, in case anyone thought he was kidding. (No one did.) The class fell silent-even Roger, who went back to his guitar magazine. The rest of them fixated on Mr. Spumato's flaccid backside jiggling up and down as he began to script grammatical terminology on the board. He about-faced several minutes later. Who can tell me the difference between a pronoun and a noun? he wanted to know, his tobacco-stained moustache twitching ever so slightly. But not a single hand rose. None of you little punks knows the difference between a pronoun and a normal noun, he tried again. And then again: I SAID WHO THE CRAP KNOWS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A NOUN AND A PRONOUN? Now the class shrieked in ecstasy. Crap was the kind of word Mrs. K. deemed grounds for suspension, and here was the substitute teacher making unrepentant use of it. Spumato! Spumato! Spumato! Roger started to chant, palms pounding rhythmically on his ink-stained desktop, and the rest of the class quickly joined in. Spumato! Spumato! Spumato! Spumato! It was when Spumato started to shake that they finally shut up. They were suddenly mortified for their sub-for his failure to control them, for his irrational fear of their harmless delirium. They stared at their hands. They prayed for the bell. They didn't really want to see him fall apart. They were rescued by the introduction of a terrible odor. It wafted through the classroom, inflicting punishment on all possessed of a sense of smell. It wasn't long before the situation became insufferable. Their throats threatening to close, they ran for the door gasping. The smart ones pinched their noses. Come back here, you little punks! roared Mr. Spumato. But then he, too, succumbed to the stench-and followed the stampede into the hall. That was the last anyone saw of Plaid Pants. As for Roger Mancuso, after confessing to the stink bomb, he was suspended for three days and threatened with expulsion. He was only too happy to have the time off to listen to his favorite Rolling Stones album, Some Girls, another hundred times. And upon his arrival back at Whitehead Middle (a.k.a. Blackhead Middle and/or Shit-Head Middle) the following week, he was given a hero's welcome, complete with chanting, backslapping, synchronized farting, and a new nickname: Stinky. He was also presented with a change of seats. Seemingly back from the dead, Mrs. K. moved the so-anointed Stink Bomb King to the front row, one seat to the left of Phoebe Fine, who couldn't believe her luck. Not that she was expecting Stinky to feel the same way. When he slipped a note under her elbow, she didn't even think it was for her. Then she saw her name printed on the outside. She waited until Mrs. K. turned her back to write the word volunteerism on the board. Then she pushed the note into her lap. Waiting for her was the following declaration: YOU LOOK FINE! Her face turned red; her hands began to tremble like Mr. Spumato's. Was this Stinky's idea of a joke? Was he passing the note on someone else's behalf? Was he mocking her last name? Was she merely a convenient target? Had he heard from someone, who'd heard from someone else, who'd heard from her best friend, Brenda Cuddihy, that she had a huge crush on him-and was this his way of telling her that he already knew? Or might he have meant exactly what he'd written? The latter possibility seemed unlikely, especially considering the only extracurricular contact she'd had with Stinky in the past year consisted of a single, recent occasion during which he'd circled her with his BMX bike on her way to her violin lesson, sung her excerpts from Fiddler on the Roof, and demanded that she play him The Devil Went Down to Georgia. She kept telling him she didn't know how. He eventually performed a wheelie and disappeared. In short, it didn't seem like Stinky Mancuso was madly in love with her. If anything, it seemed like he thought it was pretty weird that she played the violin. But what if he liked her for the reason that she was unique among her peers? Which is to say that he'd never encountered anyone quite as gifted and talented as Phoebe, with the encouragement of her parents and teachers, imagined herself to be? Reluctant to make eye contact until she had more information one way or the other, Phoebe stared straight ahead for the rest of the class period. And when the bell rang, she jumped out of her chair and bolted for the door. In the girls' room some time later, she caught up with Brenda Cuddihy. Did you tell Stinky I liked him? she challenged her Born Again best friend. I swear on the Bible I didn't tell anyone! her Born Again best friend held fast. Well, look at this, said Phoebe, pulling Stinky's note out of the patch pocket of her tie-dyed apron dress and handing it over to Brenda, who read it out loud before she gasped, Oh my God, Stinky likes you! How do you know he's not just joking around? said Phoebe. Well, he didn't send me a note, said Brenda. Well, you don't sit next to him in homeroom. So? So there. So nothing-I bet Stinky wants to go out with you. Well, I don't want to go out with him. But I thought you had a crush on him! I did, Phoebe told her. But I don't anymore. But she was lying; she was just scared-scared of boys in general and what they might require of her, but perhaps even more terrified of finding herself attracted to the very thing her daffy, well-meaning, culturally contemptuous parents had worked so hard to protect her from-namely, the world out there in all its crudest, crassest, most inglorious expressions of animal need. It wasn't merely that Stinky Mancuso was a huge fan of the bat-eating heavy metal musician Ozzy Osbourne. His favorite expression was Ya mental; his second-favorite expression was Ya gay. As early as fourth grade, he'd been spotted palling around with Whitehead's hearse-driving drug-dealer-in-residence, Rupert Slim. He was notorious for having talked some special-ed kids into taking down their pants in the middle of the playing field. A cheap tin arrowhead pendant dangled from the gold-toned chain he wore around his scrawny neck. He kept a red plastic comb with an aerodynamic handle in the back pocket of his Lee jeans-even though he had buzz-cut hair. He wore a different rock concert T-shirt every day of the week. The only concert T-shirt Phoebe owned was emblazoned with the logo of the Lincoln Center summer series Mostly Mozart. Her father, Leonard, was a professional oboist who moonlighted on the English horn and the oboe d'amour. Her mother, Roberta, was a semiprofessional violist. Her older sister, Emily, was a dedicated if singularly untalented student of the cello. Phoebe herself had been started on the violin (Suzuki method) at the age of five. More than a vocation, however, classical music was the air the Fine family breathed, the religion they practiced, the shelter under which they sought refuge from the technological excesses of the current century. It blared from the family Victrola all day every day, if it wasn't already being played live in their music room. On Saturday ni... Read more.
0205031978 Price: $8.52 Score: 3.610 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.3 Votes: 176 Find similar products Strategic Writing: Multimedia Writing for Public Relations, Advertising, and More. Review Reviews This text is a dream! The material is laid out clearly and concisely and the language and up-to-date examples really speak to the students. - Marguerite Newcomb, University of Texas - San Antonio I rarely recommend that a student keep a textbook after class is over ― this book by far is the exception. I strongly recommend each student keep this text as a reference after graduation and landing their first job. -Michael Quinn, University of South Carolina About the Author Charles Marsh is the Oscar Stauffer Professor of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Kansas. His primary areas of research involve public relations, ethics and classical rhetoric. David W. Guth is associate professor at the William Allen White School of Journalism and Mass Communications, University of Kansas. His areas of special research interest are crisis communication, political communication and public relations history. Bonnie Poovey Short, founder and president of Short Solutions, an award-winning editorial and creative services firm that specializes in the health care field, also teaches at the university-level and serves as communications coordinator for a school district.	1605060275 Availability: Currently unavailable Score: 3.597 Category: Electronics Rating: 4.7 Votes: 183 Find similar products The Negro (Forgotten Books). .