Parkin, Molly:Moll: the Making of Molly Parkin
- edizione con copertina flessibile 1993, ISBN: 9780575053892
edizione con copertina rigida
Corgi Books. Good. 4.29 x 1.26 x 7.05 inches. Paperback. 2006. 608 pages. Cover worn<br>Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon and F rench cryptologist Sophie Neveu work to solve the mu… Altro …
Corgi Books. Good. 4.29 x 1.26 x 7.05 inches. Paperback. 2006. 608 pages. Cover worn<br>Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon and F rench cryptologist Sophie Neveu work to solve the murder of an el derly curator of the Louvre, a case which leads to clues hidden i n the works of Da Vinci and a centuries-old secret society. Edit orial Reviews About the Author DAN BROWN is the bestselling auth or of Digital Fortress, Angels & Demons, and Deception Point. He lives in New England. From the Hardcover edition. --This text re fers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Ex cerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 Robert Langdon awoke slowly. A telephone was ringing in the darkness--a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turn ed it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissanc e bedroom with Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a co lossal mahogany four-poster bed. Where the hell am I? The jacqu ard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram: HOTEL RI TZ PARIS. Slowly, the fog began to lift. Langdon picked up the receiver. Hello? Monsieur Langdon? a man's voice said. I hope I have not awoken you? Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt l ike the dead. This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for t his intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent. Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a cr umpled flyer on his bedside table. THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PA RIS proudly presents An evening with Robert Langdon Professor of Religious Symbology, Harvard University Langdon groaned. Tonight 's lecture--a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the ston es of Chartres Cathedral--had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely, some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight. I'm sorry, Langdon said, but I'm very tired and-- Mais monsieur, the concierge pressed, lower ing his voice to an urgent whisper. Your guest is an important ma n. Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings an d cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art wo rld, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundred-f old after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending. If you w ould be so kind, Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, c ould you take the man's name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you. He hung up before the concierge could protest. Sitting up now, Langdon frow ned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted: SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RI TZ. He turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror acro ss the room. The man staring back at him was a stranger--tousled and weary. You need a vacation, Robert. The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in th e mirror. His usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonig ht. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making t heir way deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although h is female colleagues insisted the gray only accentuated his booki sh appeal, Langdon knew better. If Boston Magazine could see me now. Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazin e had listed him as one of that city's top ten most intriguing pe ople--a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from hom e, the accolade had resurfaced to haunt him at the lecture he had given. Ladies and gentlemen . . . the hostess had announced to a full-house at The American University of Paris's Pavillon Dauph ine, Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The Art of the Il luminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Ma ny of you use his textbooks in class. The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically. I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae, however . . . She gla nced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. An audience me mber has just handed me a far more, shall we say . . . intriguing introduction. She held up a copy of Boston Magazine. Langdon c ringed. Where the hell did she get that? The hostess began readi ng choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himse lf sinking lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, th e crowd was grinning, and the woman showed no signs of letting up . And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual r ole in last year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter. The hostess goaded the crowd. Would you lik e to hear more? The crowd applauded. Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again. Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our yo unger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his s hare of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female st udents describe as 'chocolate for the ears.'' The hall erupted i n laughter. Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came n ext--some ridiculous line about Harrison Ford in Harris tweed--an d because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again t o wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to ta ke action. Thank you, Monique, Langdon said, standing prematurel y and edging her away from the podium. Boston Magazine clearly ha s a gift for fiction. He turned to the audience with an embarrass ed sigh. And if I find which one of you provided that article, I' ll have the consulate deport you. The crowd laughed. Well, folk s, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of s ymbols . . . * * * The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once ag ain broke the silence. Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. Yes? As expected, it was the concierge. Mr. Langdon, again my apolog ies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route t o your room. I thought I should alert you. Langdon was wide awak e now. You sent someone to my room? I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this . . . I cannot presume the authority to stop him. Who exactly is he? But the concierge was gone. Almost immediat ely, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door. Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. W ho is it? Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you. The man's Engli sh was accented--a sharp, authoritative bark. My name is Lieutena nt Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire. Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ were the rough equivalent o f the U.S. FBI. Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon ope ned the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an off icial-looking blue uniform. May I come in? the agent asked. Lan gdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes s tudied him. What is this is all about? My capitaine requires you r expertise in a private matter. Now? Langdon managed. It's afte r midnight. Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with cu rator of the Louvre this evening? Langdon felt a sudden surge o f uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had bee n slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. Yes. How did you know that? We foun d your name in his daily planner. I trust nothing is wrong? The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door. When Langdon saw the photo, his enti re body went rigid. This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre. As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of ang er. Who would do this! We had hoped that you might help us answe r that very question. Considering your knowledge in symbology and your plans to meet with him. Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and profoundl y strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of deja vu. A lit tle over a year ago, Langdon had received a photograph of a corps e and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirel y different, and yet something about the scenario felt disquietin gly familiar. The agent checked his watch. My captain is waiting , sir. Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. This symbol here, and the way his body is so oddly . . . Positioned? the agent offered. Langdon nodded, feeling a c hill as he looked up. I can't imagine who would do this to someon e. The agent looked grim. You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. Wha t you see in this photograph . . . He paused. Monsieur Saunière d id that to himself. 2 One mile away, the hulking albino named S ilas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone re sidence on Rue la Bruyere. The spiked cilice belt that he wore ar ound his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with sat isfaction of service to the Lord. Pain is good. His red eyes sc anned the lobby as he entered... --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review Wi th The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown masterfully concocts an intellige nt and lucid thriller that marries the gusto of an international murder mystery with a collection of fascinating esoteria culled f rom 2,000 years of Western history. A murder in the silent afte r-hour halls of the Louvre museum reveals a sinister plot to unco ver a secret that has been protected by a clandestine society sin ce the days of Christ. The victim is a high-ranking agent of this ancient society who, in the moments before his death, manages to leave gruesome clues at the scene that only his granddaughter, n oted cryptographer Sophie Neveu, and Robert Langdon, a famed symb ologist, can untangle. The duo become both suspects and detective s searching for not only Neveu's grandfather's murderer but also the stunning secret of the ages he was charged to protect. Mere s teps ahead of the authorities and the deadly competition, the mys tery leads Neveu and Langdon on a breathless flight through Franc e, England, and history itself. Brown (Angels and Demons) has cre ated a page-turning thriller that also provides an amazing interp retation of Western history. Brown's hero and heroine embark on a lofty and intriguing exploration of some of Western culture's gr eatest mysteries--from the nature of the Mona Lisa's smile to the secret of the Holy Grail. Though some will quibble with the vera city of Brown's conjectures, therein lies the fun. The Da Vinci C ode is an enthralling read that provides rich food for thought. - -Jeremy Pugh --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From the Back Cover Dan Brown has to be one of the best, smartest, and most accomplished writers in the c ountry. THE DA VINCI CODE is many notches above the intelligent t hriller; this is pure genius. -NELSON DeMILLE, #1 New York Times bestselling author Intrigue and menace mingle in one of the fine st mysteries I've ever read. An amazing tale with enigma piled on secrets stacked on riddles. -CLIVE CUSSLER, #1 New York Times be stseller Dan Brown is my new must-read. THE DA VINCI CODE is fas cinating and absorbing -- perfect for history buffs, conspiracy n uts, puzzle lovers or anyone who appreciates a great, riveting st ory. I loved this book. -HARLAN COBEN, New York Times bestselling author of Tell No One The Da Vinci Code sets the hook-of-all-ho oks, and takes off down a road that is as eye-opening as it is pa ge-turning. You simply cannot put this book down. Thriller reader s everywhere will soon realize Dan Brown is a master. -VINCE FLYN N, New York Times bestselling author of Separation of Power I wo uld never have believed that this is my kind of thriller, but I'm going to tell you something--the more I read, the more I had to read. In The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown has built a world that is r ich in fascinating detail, and I could not get enough of it. Mr. Brown, I am your fan. ROBERT CRAIS, New York Times bestselling au thor of Hostage From the Hardcover edition. --This text refers t o an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Pub lishers Weekly Brown's latest thriller (after Angels and Demons)i s an exhaustively researched page-turner about secret religious s ocieties, ancient coverups and savage vengeance. The action kicks off in modern-day Paris with the murder of the Louvre's chief cu rator, whose body is found laid out in symbolic repose at the foo t of the Mona Lisa. Seizing control of the case are Sophie Neveu, a lovely French police cryptologist, and Harvard symbol expert R obert Langdon, reprising his role from Brown's last book. The two find several puzzling codes at the murder scene, all of which fo rm a treasure map to the fabled Holy Grail. As their search moves from France to England, Neveu and Langdon are confounded by two mysterious groups-the legendary Priory of Sion, a nearly 1,000-ye ar-old secret society whose members have included Botticelli and Isaac Newton, and the conservative Catholic organization Opus Dei . Both have their own reasons for wanting to ensure that the Grai l isn't found. Brown sometimes ladles out too much religious hist ory at the expense of pacing, and Langdon is a hero in desperate need of more chutzpah. Still, Brown has assembled a whopper of a plot that will please both conspiracy buffs and thriller addicts. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From AudioFile Dan Brown writes with an edge-of-your -seat style, combining a wealth of esoteric information and an ex citing read. While this abridgment by David Rosaler necessarily l eaves out details, it retains the book's drama and enough of the multifaceted plot to ensure that listeners never wonder what they 're missing. Colin Stinton's narration does not ple, Corgi Books, 2006, 2.5, Victor Gollancz 1993. 1993. Hardcover. 8vo hardcover 272pp index, b/w illus. very good / very good d/w. SynopsisnMolly Parkin's background was poor. Her parents were ill-suited and fought constantly, and both later became alcoholics. Her father was alternately physically abusive and very affectionate, thereby setting up a pattern of highly-charged sexual violence that she sought in her future relationships with men. She studied fine art at college and painted throughout her first marriage. After years of violence and betrayals she left her husband, taking her two daughters, and found herself unable to paint - a block which it took her 20 years to overcome. Turning her talents to the fashion world, she became an arbiter of style at the height of the "Swinging Sixties", as fashion editor of "Nova", "Harper's" and "The Sunday Times". Her second marriage - to a younger man, the painter Patrick Hughes - took her down to Cornwall, where she wrote her best-selling comic-erotic novels. Outwardly it seemed she could do no wrong, but she was already drinking to excess and the marriage was failing. They moved to New York, staying at the notorious Chelsea Hotel and mixing with the famous and infamous, indulging in sex, drugs and drink. Just before she left for England to see her ailing mother, her husband tried to kill her, and back home - alone - she embarked on a career as a cabaret artiste, but the day she blacked out on stage in an alcoholic stupor was her lowest point. She contemplated suicide, but slowly fought back, seeking and eventually finding a spiritual centre to her life. This is Molly Parkin's autobiography. ., Victor Gollancz 1993, 1993, 0<
