2008, ISBN: 9780071750363

edizione con copertina rigida

Warner Home Video, 2008-09-16. DVD. Very Good/Very Good. good condition DVD in original case with inserts; The Matrix masterminds Andy and Larry Wachowski usher anime icon Tatsuo Yoshid… Altro …

Warner Home Video, 2008-09-16. DVD. Very Good/Very Good. good condition DVD in original case with inserts; The Matrix masterminds Andy and Larry Wachowski usher anime icon Tatsuo Yoshida's classic 1960s-era hit into the new millennium with this family-friendly story of a young racecar driver who takes on the mysterious Racer X in a custom-made, gadget-loaded speed machine named the Mach 5 . Speed Racer (Emile Hirsch) is the kind of driver that every wheelman wishes he could be: a born winner whose unbeatable combination of aggression, instinct, and fearlessness always finds him crossing the checkered flag with a comfortable lead. In Speed Racer's mind, the only driver who could present him with any real challenge is his late brother -- the legendary Rex Racer. Rex died in a heated cross-country rally known as The Crucible many years ago, and now his younger sibling is driven to fulfill the legacy that Rex left behind. To this day, Speed Racer is fiercely loyal to family. It was Speed Racer's father, Pops Racer (John Goodman), who designed the unbeatable Mach 5 , and even a lucrative offer from racing giants Royalton Industries isn't enough to get the young ace to break his family ties. Upon turning down Royalton's (Roger Allam) astronomical offer, Speed Racer makes the shocking discovery that the outcomes of the biggest races are being predetermined by a handful of powerful moguls who pad their profits by manipulating the drivers. Realizing that his career would be ruined if word of the fix gets out, Royalton vows that the Mach 5 will never make it to another finish line. Now, the only way for Speed Racer to save the family business and beat Royalton at his own game will be to win the very same race that claimed his brother's life so many years ago. In order to accomplish that formidable feat, however, Speed Racer will not only have to rely on his family and the aid of his longtime girlfriend, Trixie (Christina Ricci), but form a tenuous alliance with his longtime rival -- the mysterious Racer X (Matthew Fox) -- as well. Jason Buchanan, Rovi, Warner Home Video, 2008-09-16, 3, New York, New York, USA: Alfred A. Knopf Incorporated, 1990. BI6 - A trade paperback book in very good+ condition. An unread, tight, clean, sound copy in color illustrated white wraps with very minor overall shelf wear plus there is a remainder mark on the bottom outside paper edges. A complete guide to the health, care, and behavior of cats. This book is designed as a comprehensive guide to cat care that provides aids to health care, including diagnostic charts, first air, home care, and when to call the vet. It also covers grooming, feeding and nutirtion, everyday care, pregnancy, and kitten care. Heavily illustrated with black and white drawings and photographs throughout. Indexed, acknowledgments, 288p.. Trade Paperback. Very Good/No Jacket as Issued. 8vo - over 7¾" - 9¾" tall. Remainder., Alfred A. Knopf Incorporated, 1990, 3, St. Martin's Griffin. Very Good. 2001. Softcover. 0312267274 . Ex-library book, but still in quite good condition - sturdy laminated cover and usual ex-lib type of markings. Pages clean and intact, a few light creases and light soiling to outer edge of pages. Cover has a little wear to laminate corners. ; 8vo 8" - 9" tall; 144 pages; Since we don’t speak “Basic Bark, “ the best way to canine-communicate is through touch. Regular Dog Massage sessions give dogs the attention they crave and the affection they need, and the techniques explained in this book are designed to: - Relax tense, overworked muscles- Help puppies benefit from touch, especially during their prime socialization period- Aid early detection of health problems- Improve sociability and help calm a “Rowdy Rover” - Promote cooperation during grooming and visits to the vet- Enhance that loving bond between you and your dogRecommended by veterinarians and dog experts, massage is an essential part of your pet’s health care. Dog Massage gives you all the skills you need, including: - Basic Massage Motions, Hand Positions, Speeds, Pressures and Moods- Over 50 Massage Techniques from Whiskers to Tail- Advanced Techniques and “White Glove Treatments”- How to “Voice Massage” (372osl, 0211) ., St. Martin's Griffin, 2001, 3, London: British Horse Society, 1960. Film Strip Book No. 9, issued by the Pony Club. The 43 plates are designed to help improve a rider's technique. Original price sticker on the cover. Owner's name in the top corner of the cover.. Paperback. Very Good-., British Horse Society, 1960, 3, Holt Paperbacks. Very Good. 19 x 13cm. Paperback. 2000. 181 pages. <br>One dark and stormy night in 1956, a stranger name d Fludd mysteriously turns up in the dismal village of Fetherhoug hton. He is the curate sent by the bishop to assist Father Angwin -or is he? In the most unlikely of places, a superstitious town t hat understands little of romance or sentimentality, where bad bl ood between neighbors is ancient and impenetrable, miracles begin to bloom. No matter how copiously Father Angwin drinks while he confesses his broken faith, the level of the bottle does not drop . Although Fludd does not appear to be eating, the food on his pl ate disappears. Fludd becomes lover, gravedigger, and savior, tra nsforming his dull office into a golden regency of decision, unas hamed sensation, and unprecedented action. Knitting together the miraculous and the mundane, the dreadful and the ludicrous, Fludd is a tale of alchemy and transformation told with astonishing ar t, insight, humor, and wit. Editorial Reviews Amazon Review Fetherhoughton, the shabby and provincial village of Hilary Mant el's fifth novel, Fludd, possesses a charm that is, at best, late nt. The surrounding moorland is foreboding, the populace is queru lous and ill-educated, and the presiding priest is an atheist. It 's 1956, and drabness is general to this English backwater. Until , that is, the appearance of a disarming young priest who, appare ntly, has been dispatched to wrest Fetherhoughton out of its supe rstitious stupor. One of the novel's several wonders is that Flud d surpasses all expectations. Father Angwin, Fetherhoughton's di sbelieving priest, has--much to the displeasure of his superiors- -grown comfortable with the entrenched, misapprehending devoutnes s of his flock. Fludd, who may or may not be the curate sent to d eliver the wayward, exerts an immediate, if unexpected, influence . He intrigues the townspeople, flusters the church's gaggle of n uns, kindles a welcome self-examination in Father Angwin, and aro uses the passion of the young and yearning Sister Philomena. A ch arge of possibility suddenly animates the village, accompanied by several incidents that seem midway between coincidence and mirac le. Fludd, however, remains beset by an insistent disillusionment --his clarity, it seems, arcs outward only. Mantel's cramped and pliant village is a marvel. Fetherhoughton wrestles not against flesh and blood but against principalities, against powers, again st the rulers of the darkness of this world, insists the dour hea dmistress, Mother Perpetua. A local tobacconist, not so trivially , just might be the devil in human garb. Fludd's gift lies in une arthing all the lovely and fearsome truths buried just beneath th e surface. The frightening thing is that life is fair, he observe s, but what we need... is not justice but mercy. The fruits of th is conviction, in Fetherhoughton, are rebellion, self-assertion, and even scandal; but Mantel's lovely tale suggests that difficul t possibility is fair compensation for a sloughed predictability. --Ben Guterson From Publishers Weekly Originally published in 1989 in the U.K., Mantel's slim, intense novel displays the autho r's formidable gift for illuminating the darker side of the human heart, offering metaphoric and literal incarnations of the power ful central images of Catholicism. Her circa-1956 setting of Feth erhoughton, a provincial English village surrounded on three side s by gloomy moors, is stark and dreary, a dead end where unwanted people are unceremoniously dumped. Such is the case of Sister Ph ilomena, a sturdy farm girl-turned-nun banished from an Irish con vent because her sister Kathleen breaks convent rules. It becomes apparent that Philomena will not fit in anywhere, as she is a st range mix of innocence and knowledge, a sage romantic. Philomena finds an unlikely confidant in Father Angwin, the parish priest, who has lost his faith, thinks the town tobacconist is the devil and fears the threat of a youthful replacement for his post. When a rain-soaked man named Fludd arrives on a stormy night, Angwin assumes it is the newly appointed curate, but even so, the two be come close friends and, in time, Angwin sheds his bitterness and paranoia to become a more compassionate, wiser person. Fludd swee ps the nosy housekeeper, Agnes, off her feet with his gentlemanly manners and cool confidence, but Philomena is also strangely att racted to the devilish Fludd, who magically transforms everyone h e meets. The monstrous Mother Perpetua, headmistress of the St. T homas Aquinas School, is the lone exception, and she ends up bein g a key player in the rural face-off between good and evil. Hawth ornden Prize-winner Mantel (The Giant, O'Brien) uses her knack fo r dry wit and lovely, scene-setting detail to liven up crisp, uti litarian prose, revealing, as her characters do, the ever-surpris ing divine in the mundane. (June) Copyright 2000 Reed Business I nformation, Inc. From Publishers Weekly Originally published in 1989 in the U.K., Mantel's slim, intense novel displays the autho r's formidable gift for illuminating the darker side of the human heart, offering metaphoric and literal incarnations of the power ful central images of Catholicism. Her circa-1956 setting of Feth erhoughton, a provincial English village surrounded on three side s by gloomy moors, is stark and dreary, a dead end where unwanted people are unceremoniously dumped. Such is the case of Sister Ph ilomena, a sturdy farm girl-turned-nun banished from an Irish con vent because her sister Kathleen breaks convent rules. It becomes apparent that Philomena will not fit in anywhere, as she is a st range mix of innocence and knowledge, a sage romantic. Philomena finds an unlikely confidant in Father Angwin, the parish priest, who has lost his faith, thinks the town tobacconist is the devil and fears the threat of a youthful replacement for his post. When a rain-soaked man named Fludd arrives on a stormy night, Angwin assumes it is the newly appointed curate, but even so, the two be come close friends and, in time, Angwin sheds his bitterness and paranoia to become a more compassionate, wiser person. Fludd swee ps the nosy housekeeper, Agnes, off her feet with his gentlemanly manners and cool confidence, but Philomena is also strangely att racted to the devilish Fludd, who magically transforms everyone h e meets. The monstrous Mother Perpetua, headmistress of the St. T homas Aquinas School, is the lone exception, and she ends up bein g a key player in the rural face-off between good and evil. Hawth ornden Prize-winner Mantel (The Giant, O'Brien) uses her knack fo r dry wit and lovely, scene-setting detail to liven up crisp, uti litarian prose, revealing, as her characters do, the ever-surpris ing divine in the mundane. (June) Copyright 2000 Reed Business I nformation, Inc. Review Hilary Mantel's wildly inventive novel about a reincarnated alchemist and an imaginary village in Englan d in the fifties is 'in every sense a magical book'. ?Listener, E ngland Fludd...establishes [Mantel] in the front rank of novelis ts writing in English today. ?The Guardian (London)) About the Author Hilary Mantel twice won the Booker Prize, for her best-sel ling novel Wolf Hall and its sequel, Bring Up the Bodies. The fin al novel of the Wolf Hall trilogy, The Mirror & the Light, debute d at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list and won critical ac claim around the globe. Mantel authored over a dozen books, inclu ding A Place of Greater Safety, Beyond Black, and the memoir Givi ng Up the Ghost. About the Author Hilary Mantel twice won the Bo oker Prize, for her best-selling novel Wolf Hall and its sequel, Bring Up the Bodies. The final novel of the Wolf Hall trilogy, Th e Mirror & the Light, debuted at #1 on the New York Times bestsel ler list and won critical acclaim around the globe. Mantel author ed over a dozen books, including A Place of Greater Safety, Beyon d Black, and the memoir Giving Up the Ghost. Excerpt. ® Reprinte d by permission. All rights reserved. Fludd A NovelBy Hilary Ma ntel Holt Paperbacks Copyright © 2000 Hilary Mantel All right re served. ISBN: 9780805062731 ONEOn Wednesday the bishop came in pe rson. He was a modern prelate, brisk and plump in his rimless gla sses, and he liked nothing better than to tear around the diocese in his big black car.He had taken the precaution-advisable in th e circumstances-of announcing himself two hours before his arriva l. The telephone bell, ringing in the hall of the parish priest's house, had in itself a muted ecclesiastical tone. Miss Dempsey h eard it as she was coming from the kitchen. She stood looking at the telephone for a moment, and then approached it gingerly, walk ing on the balls of her feet. She lifted the receiver as if it we re hot. Her head on one side, holding the earpiece well away from her cheek, she listened to the message given by the bishop's sec retary. Yes My Lord, she murmured, though in retrospect she knew that the secretary did not merit this. The bishop and his sycopha nts, Father Angwin always said; Miss Dempsey supposed they were a kind of deacon. Holding the receiver in her fingertips, she repl aced it with great care. She stood in the dim passageway, for a m oment, thinking, and bowed her head momentarily, as if she had he ard the Holy Name of Jesus. Then she went to the foot of the stai rs and bellowed up them: Father Angwin, Father Angwin, get yourse lf up and dressed, the bishop will be upon us before eleven o'clo ck. Miss Dempsey went back into the kitchen, and switched on the electric light. It was not a morning when the light made a great deal of difference; the summer, a thick grey blanket, had pinned itself to the windows. Miss Dempsey heard the incessant drip, dr ip, drip from the branches and leaves outside, and a more urgent metallic drip, pit-pat, pit-pat; it was the guttering. Her figure moved, the electric light behind it, over the dull green wall; i mmense hands floated towards the kettle; as in a thick sea, her l imbs swam for the range. Upstairs, the priest beat his shoe along the floor and pretended to be coming.Ten minutes later he had go t himself up; she heard the creak of the floorboards above, the g urgle of water from the washbasin, his feet on the stairs. He sig hed as he came down the hallway, his solitary morning sigh. Sudde nly he was behind her, hovering: Agnes, have you something for my stomach?I daresay, she said. He knew where the salts were kept; but she must get it for him, as if she were his mother. Were ther e many at seven o'clock Mass?It's funny you should ask, Father sa id, just as if she did not ask it every morning. There were a few old Children of Mary, along with the usual derelicts. It wouldn' t be some special feast of theirs, would it? Walpurgisnacht?I don 't know what you mean, Father. I'm a Children of Mary myself, as you perfectly well know, and I've not heard of anything. She look ed aggrieved. Were they wearing their cloaks and all?No, they wer e in mufti, just their usual horseblankets.Miss Dempsey brought t he teapot to the table. You ought not to make mock of the Sodalit ies, Father.I wonder if something has got out about the bishop co ming? Some intelligence of a subterranean variety? Am I to have b acon, Agnes?Not with your stomach in its present state.Miss Demps ey poured from the pot, a thick brown gurgling stream, adding to the noise: the dripping trees, the wind in the chimneys.And anoth er thing, he said. McEvoy was there. Father Angwin hunched himsel f over the table. He warmed his hands around his cup. When he sai d the name of McEvoy, a shadow crossed his face, and hovered abou t his jaw, so that Miss Dempsey, who was given to imagination, th ought for a moment she had seen what he would look like when he w as eighty years old.Oh yes, she said, and did he want something?N o.I wonder why you mention him then?Dear Agnes, give me some peac e. Go and let me compose myself for His Corpulence. What does he want, do you think? What's he after this time?Agnes went out, a d uster in her hand, her face full of complaints. Whatever he had m eant about subterranean intelligence, surely he was not accusing her? Nobody but the bishop himself, forming the intention in his deep heart, had known he meant to visit-except perhaps the sycoph ants might have known. Therefore she, Miss Dempsey, could not kno w, therefore she could not hint, divulge, reveal, to the Children of Mary or anyone else in the parish. Had she known, she might h ave mentioned it. Might-if she had thought that anyone needed to know. She herself was the judge of what anyone needed to know. Fo r Miss Dempsey occupied a special mediatory position, between chu rch, convent, and everyone else. To acquire information was her p ositive duty, and then what she did with it was a matter for her judgement and experience. Miss Dempsey would have eavesdropped on the confessional, if she could; she had often wondered how she m ight manage it.Left at the breakfast table, Father Angwin stared into his teacup and shifted it about. Miss Dempsey had not master ed the use of a strainer. Nothing in particular could be seen in the leaves, but for a moment Father Angwin thought that someone h ad come into the room behind him. He lifted his face, as he did i n conversation, but there was no one there. Come in, whoever you are, he said. Have some stewed tea. Father Angwin was a foxy man, with his deadleaf-colour eyes and hair; head tilted, he sniffed the wind, and shied away from what he detected. Somewhere else in the house, a door slammed. Consider Agnes Dempsey: duster in ha nd, whisking it over the dustless bureau. In recent years her fac e had fallen softly, like a piece of light cotton folding into a box. Her neck too fell in floury, scalloped folds, to where her c lothing cut off the view. Her eyes were round, child-like, bright blue, their air of surprise compounded by her invisible eyebrows and her hair, a faded gold streaked with grey, which sprang up f rom her hairline as if crackling with static. She had pleated ski rts, and short bottle-shaped legs, and pastel twin-sets to cover the gentle twin hummocks of her bosom. Her mouth was small and pa le and indiscernible, made to ingest the food she liked: Eccles c akes, vanilla slices, miniature chocolate Swiss rolls that came w rapped in red-and-silver foil. It was her habit to peel off the f oil carefully, fold it as thin as a pencil, twist it into a ring, and pop it on her wedding finger. Then she would hold out both h ands-fingers bloodless and slightly bent by incipient arthritis-a nd appraise them, a frown of concentration appearing as a sing, Holt Paperbacks, 2000, 3, Broadway. Good. 5.31 x 0.83 x 8 inches. Paperback. 1999. 304 pages. <br>At an early age, Ruth Reichl discovered that food could be a way of making sense of the world. . . . If you watched people as they ate, you could find out who they were. Her delici ously crafted memoir, Tender at the Bone, is the story of a life determined, enhanced, and defined in equal measure by a passion f or food, unforgettable people, and the love of tales well told. B eginning with Reichl's mother, the notorious food-poisoner known as the Queen of Mold, Reichl introduces us to the fascinating cha racters who shaped her world and her tastes, from the gourmand Mo nsieur du Croix, who served Reichl her first soufflé, to those at her politically correct table in Berkeley who championed the org anic food revolution in the 1970s. Spiced with Reichl's infectiou s humor and sprinkled with her favorite recipes, Tender at the Bo ne is a witty and compelling chronicle of a culinary sensualist's coming-of-age. Editorial Reviews Review Reading Ruth Reichl on food is almost as good as eating it. . . . Reichl makes the read er feel present with her, sharing the experience. --Washington Po st Book World An absolute delight to read . . . how lucky we are that [Reichl] had the courage to follow her appetite. --Newsday A poignant, yet hilarious, collection of stories about people [R eichl] has known and loved, and who, knowingly or unknowingly, st eered her on the path to fulfill her destiny as one of the world' s leading food writers. --Chicago Sun-Times While all good food writers are humorous . . . few are so riotously, effortlessly ent ertaining as Ruth Reichl. . . . [She] is also witty, fair-minded, brave, and a wonderful writer. --New York Times Book Review [In ] this lovely memoir . . . we find young Ruth desperately trying to steer her manic mother's unwary guests toward something edible . It's a job she does now . . . in her columns, and whose intimat e imperatives she illuminates in this graceful book. --The New Yo rker A savory memoir of [Reichl's] apprentice years. . . . Reich l describes [her] experiences with infectious humor, . . . the de scriptions of each sublime taste are mouth-wateringly precise. . . . A perfectly balanced stew of memories. --Kirkus Reviews From the Inside Flap At an early age, Ruth Reichl discovered that foo d could be a way of making sense of the world. . . . If you watch ed people as they ate, you could find out who they were. Her deli ciously crafted memoir, Tender at the Bone, is the story of a lif e determined, enhanced, and defined in equal measure by a passion for food, unforgettable people, and the love of tales well told. Beginning with Reichl's mother, the notorious food-poisoner know n as the Queen of Mold, Reichl introduces us to the fascinating c haracters who shaped her world and her tastes, from the gourmand Monsieur du Croix, who served Reichl her first soufflé, to those at her politically correct table in Berkeley who championed the o rganic food revolution in the 1970s. Spiced with Reichl's infecti ous humor and sprinkled with her favorite recipes, Tender at the Bone is a witty and compelling chronicle of a culinary sensualist 's coming-of-age. From the Back Cover Reading Ruth Reichl on foo d is almost as good as eating it. . . . Reichl makes the reader f eel present with her, sharing the experience. --Washington Post B ook World An absolute delight to read . . . how lucky we are tha t [Reichl] had the courage to follow her appetite. --Newsday A p oignant, yet hilarious, collection of stories about people [Reich l] has known and loved, and who, knowingly or unknowingly, steere d her on the path to fulfill her destiny as one of the world's le ading food writers. --Chicago Sun-Times While all good food writ ers are humorous . . . few are so riotously, effortlessly enterta ining as Ruth Reichl. . . . [She] is also witty, fair-minded, bra ve, and a wonderful writer. --New York Times Book Review [In] th is lovely memoir . . . we find young Ruth desperately trying to s teer her manic mother's unwary guests toward something edible. It 's a job she does now . . . in her columns, and whose intimate im peratives she illuminates in this graceful book. --The New Yorker A savory memoir of [Reichl's] apprentice years. . . . Reichl de scribes [her] experiences with infectious humor, . . . the descri ptions of each sublime taste are mouth-wateringly precise. . . . A perfectly balanced stew of memories. --Kirkus Reviews About th e Author Ruth Reichl is the restaurant critic for the New York Ti mes. She lives in New York City with her husband, her son, and tw o cats. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Most mornings I got out of bed and went to the refrigerator to s ee how my mother was feeling. You could tell instantly just by op ening the door. One day in 1960 I found a whole suckling pig star ing at me. I jumped back and slammed the door, hard. Then I opene d it again. I'd never seen a whole animal in our refrigerator bef ore; even the chickens came in parts. He was surrounded by tiny c rab apples (lady apples my mother corrected me later), and a whol e wreath of weird vegetables. This was not a bad sign: the more odd and interesting things there were in the refrigerator, the ha ppier my mother was likely to be. Still, I was puzzled; the refri gerator in our small kitchen had been almost empty when I went to bed. Where did you get all this stuff? I asked. The stores aren 't open yet. Oh, said Mom blithely, patting at her crisp gray ha ir, I woke up early and decided to go for a walk. You'd be surpri sed at what goes on in Manhattan at four A.M. I've been down to t he Fulton Fish Market. And I found the most interesting produce s tore on Bleecker Street. It was open? I asked. Well, she admitt ed, not really. She walked across the worn linoleum and set a bas ket of bread on the Formica table. But I saw someone moving aroun d so I knocked. I've been trying to get ideas for the party. Par ty? I asked warily. What party? Your brother has decided to get married, she said casually, as if I should have somehow intuited this in my sleep. And of course we're going to have a party to ce lebrate the engagement and meet Shelly's family! My brother, I k new, would not welcome this news. He was thirteen years older tha n I and considered it a minor miracle to have reached the age of twenty-five. I don't know how I survived her cooking, he said as he was telling me about the years when he and Mom were living alo ne, after she had divorced his father and was waiting to meet min e. She's a menace to society. Bob went to live with his father i n Pittsburgh right after I was born, but he always came home for holidays. When he was there he always helped me protect the guest s, using tact to keep them from eating the more dangerous items. I took a more direct approach. Don't eat that, I ordered my best friend Jeanie as her spoon dipped into one of Mom's more creativ e lunch dishes. My mother believed in celebrating every holiday: in honor of St. Patrick she was serving bananas with green sour c ream. I don't mind the color, said Jeanie, a trusting soul whose own mother wouldn't dream of offering you an all-orange Hallowee n extravaganza complete with milk dyed the color of orange juice. Ida served the sort of perfect lunches that I longed for: neat s quares of cream cheese and jelly on white bread, bologna sandwich es, Chef Boyardee straight from the can. It's not just food colo ring, I said. The sour cream was green to begin with; the carton' s been in the refrigerator for months. Jeanie quickly put her sp oon down and when Mom went into the other room to answer the phon e we ducked into the bathroom and flushed our lunches down the to ilet. That was great, Mim, said Jeanie when Mom returned. May w e be excused? is all I said. I wanted to get away from the table before anything else appeared. Don't you want dessert? Mom asked . Sure, said Jeanie. No! I said. But Mom had already gone to ge t the cookies. She returned with some strange black lumps on a pl ate. Jeanie looked at them dubiously, then politely picked one up . Oh, go ahead, eat it, I said, reaching for one myself. They're just Girl Scout mint cookies. She left them on the radiator so a ll the chocolate melted off, but they won't kill you. As we munc hed our cookies, Mom asked idly, What do you girls think I should serve for Bob's engagement party? You're not going to have the party here, are you? I asked, holding my breath as I looked aroun d at our living room, trying to see it with a stranger's eye. Mo m had moments of decorating inspiration that usually died before the project was finished. The last one, a romance with Danish mod ern, had brought a teak dining table, a wicker chair that looked like an egg and hung from a chain, and a Rya rug into our lives. The huge turquoise abstract painting along one wall dated from th at period too. But Mom had, as usual, gotten bored, so they were all mixed together with my grandmother's drum table, an ornate br eakfront, and some Japanese prints from an earlier, more conserva tive period. Then there was the bathroom, my mother's greatest d ecorating feat. One day she had decided, on the spur of the momen t, to install gold towels, a gold shower curtain, and a gold rug. They were no problem. But painting all the porcelain gold was a disaster; it almost immediately began peeling off the sink and it was years before any of us could take a bath without emerging sl ightly gilded. My father found all of this slightly amusing. An intellectual who had escaped his wealthy German-Jewish family by coming to America in the twenties, he had absolutely no interest in things. He was a book designer who lived in a black-and-white world of paper and type; books were his only passion. He was kind ly and detached and if he had known that people described him as elegant, he would have been shocked; clothes bored him enormously , when he noticed them at all. No, said Mom. I exhaled. In the c ountry. We have more room in Wilton. And we need to welcome Shell y into the family properly. I pictured our small, shabby summer house in the woods. Wilton is only an hour from New York, but in 1960 it was still very rural. My parents had bought the land chea ply and designed the house themselves. Since they couldn't afford an architect, they had miscalculated a bit, and the downstairs b edrooms were very strangely shaped. Dad hardly knew how to hold a hammer, but to save money he had built the house himself with th e aid of a carpenter. He was very proud of his handiwork, despite the drooping roof and awkward layout. He was even prouder of our long, rutted, meandering driveway. I didn't want to cut down a s ingle tree! he said proudly when people asked why it was so crook ed. I loved the house, but I was slightly embarrassed by its unp ainted wooden walls and unconventional character. Why can't we ha ve the party in a hotel? I asked. In my mind's eye I saw Shelly's impeccable mother, who seemed to go to the beauty parlor every d ay and wore nothing but custom-made clothes. Next to her, Mom, a handsome woman who refused to dye her hair, rarely wore makeup, a nd had very colorful taste in clothes, looked almost bohemian. Sh elly's mother wore an enormous diamond ring on her beautifully ma nicured finger; my mother didn't even wear a wedding band and her fingernails were short and haphazardly polished. Nonsense, said Mom. It will be much nicer to have it at home. So much more inti mate. I'd like them to see how we live, find out who we are. Gre at, I said under my breath to Jeanie. That'll be the end of Bob's engagement. And a couple of the relatives might die, but who wor ries about little things like that? Just make sure she doesn't s erve steak tartare, said Jeanie, giggling. Steak tartare was the bane of my existence: Dad always made it for parties. It was a p erformance. First he'd break an egg yolk into the mound of raw ch opped steak, and then he'd begin folding minced onions and capers and Worcestershire sauce into the meat. He looked tall and suave as he mixed thoughtfully and then asked, his German accent very pronounced, for an assistant taster. Together they added a little more of this or that and then Dad carefully mounded the meat int o a round, draped some anchovies across the top, and asked me to serve it. My job was to spread the stuff onto slices of party pu mpernickel and pass the tray. Unless I had bought the meat myself I tried not to let the people I liked best taste Dad's chef d'oe uvre. I knew that my mother bought prepackaged hamburger meat at the supermarket and that if there happened to be some half-price, day-old stuff she simply couldn't resist it. With our well-train ed stomachs my father and I could take whatever Mom was dishing o ut, but for most people it was pure poison. Just thinking about it made me nervous. I've got to stop this party, I said. How? as ked Jeanie. I didn't know. I had four months to figure it out. My best hope was that my mother's mood would change before the pa rty took place. That was not unrealistic; my mother's moods were erratic. But March turned into April and April into May and Mom w as still buzzing around. The phone rang constantly and she was fe eling great. She cut her gray hair very short and actually starte d wearing nail polish. She lost weight and bought a whole new war drobe. Then she and Dad took a quick cruise to the Caribbean. We booked passage on a United Fruit freighter, she said to her frie nds, so much more interesting than a conventional cruise. When as ked about the revolutions that were then rocking the islands she had a standard response: The bomb in the hotel lobby in Haiti mad e the trip much more interesting. When they returned she threw h erself into planning the party. I got up every morning and looked hopefully into the refrigerator. Things kept getting worse. Half a baby goat appeared. Next there was cactus fruit. But the morni ng I found the box of chocolate-covered grasshoppers I decided it was time to talk to Dad. The plans are getting more elaborate, I said ominously. &q... ., Broadway, 1999, 2.5, John Murray, London, England, 1950. Softcover (Saddle-stapled). Very Good/No Dust Jacket. 61pages. the author was a lecturer in Zoology at Plymouth Technical college. Essentially this book is a series of drawings and is designed to aid dissection with the minium of written instruction. Other dissection guides available in this series are. The Frog, The Rat, The Rabbit and Invertebrates. Black and white illustrations. Quantity Available: 1. Shipped Weight: Under 500 grams. Category: Science; Science & Technology; Animals & Nature::Animals. Inventory No: 079194. ., John Murray, 1950, 3, Crown. Very Good. 6.5 x 1 x 9.5 inches. Hardcover. 2004. 288 pages. <br>In America's new war, the first guns in the fight are special operations forces, including the Navy SEALs, speciall y trained warriors who operate with precision, swiftness, and let hal force. In the constantly shifting war on terror, SEAL units-- small in number, flexible, stealthy, and efficient--are more vit al than ever to America's security as they take the battle to an elusive enemy around the globe. But how are Navy SEALs made? Wh at special training and preparation sharpen the physical skills a nd intangible character of a regular soldier into that of an elit e warrior? In the acclaimed Warrior Elite, former Navy SEAL Dick Couch narrated one SEAL class's journey through BUD/S training, t he brutal initial course that separates out candidates with the c haracter and stamina necessary to begin training as Navy SEALs. I n The Finishing School, Couch follows SEALs into the next levels of training, where they further develop their endurance and stren gth, but also learn the teamwork and finely honed skills they'll need to fight with the best--and win. Dick Couch spent six mont hs living with and observing SEALs in training for operational re adiness in the months leading up to the Iraqi campaign. He follow s them on the ground and in the water as they undergo SEAL Tactic al Training, where they master combat skills such as precision sh ooting, demolitions, secure communications, parachuting, diving, and first aid. From there, the men enter operational platoons, w here they subordinate their individual abilities to the mission o f the group and train for special operations in specific geograph ical environments. Never before has a civilian writer been grante d such close access to the training of America's most elite milit ary forces. The Finishing School is essential reading for anyone who wants to know what goes into the making of America's best war riors. Editorial Reviews Review Couch is a well-qualified guide to this class of men who possess what he calls a relentless desi re to fight and win as a team. -Wall Street Journal Lively, info rmative, and intimidating. -Bob Kerrey, president, New School Uni versity, BUD/S Class 42 From the Trade Paperback edition. From the Inside Flap In America's new war, the first guns in the fight are special operations forces, including the Navy SEALs, special ly trained warriors who operate with precision, swiftness, and le thal force. In the constantly shifting war on terror, SEAL units- -small in number, flexible, stealthy, and efficient--are more vi tal than ever to America's security as they take the battle to an elusive enemy around the globe. But how are Navy SEALs made? W hat special training and preparation sharpen the physical skills and intangible character of a regular soldier into that of an eli te warrior? In the acclaimed Warrior Elite, former Navy SEAL Dick Couch narrated one SEAL class's journey through BUD/S training, the brutal initial course that separates out candidates with the character and stamina necessary to begin training as Navy SEALs. In The Finishing School, Couch follows SEALs into the next levels of training, where they further develop their endurance and stre ngth, but also learn the teamwork and finely honed skills they'll need to fight with the best--and win. Dick Couch spent six mon ths living with and observing SEALs in training for operational r eadiness in the months leading up to the Iraqi campaign. He follo ws them on the ground and in the water as they undergo SEAL Tacti cal Training, where they master combat skills such as precision s hooting, demolitions, secure communications, parachuting, diving, and first aid. From there, the men enter operational platoons, where they subordinate their individual abilities to the mission of the group and train for special operations in specific geograp hical environments. Never before has a civilian writer been grant ed such close access to the training of America's most elite mili tary forces. The Finishing School is essential reading for anyone who wants to know what goes into the making of America's best wa rriors. About the Author DICK COUCH is the author of The Warrio r Elite: The Forging of SEAL Class 228 and five novels. He comman ded a SEAL platoon in Vietnam that conducted one of the few succe ssful POW rescue operations of the war. He lives in central Idaho . About the Author DICK COUCH is the author of The Warrior Elite : The Forging of SEAL Class 228 and five novels. He commanded a S EAL platoon in Vietnam that conducted one of the few successful P OW rescue operations of the war. He lives in central Idaho. Exce rpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Prerequi sites THE BASIC COURSE There are a number of things a young man must do before he begins the serious business of SEAL finishing s chool. Before the Navy or Naval Special Warfare will invest the t ime and money to train a man to be a Navy SEAL, they want to know two things: Is he smart enough and is he tough enough for this b usiness? SEAL candidates are screened carefully for mental aptitu de, and most have the required mental ability. Basic Underwater D emolition/SEAL training, or BUD/S, is designed to test whether th ese SEAL hopefuls have the toughness. What we are talking about h ere is what the SEALs call Hack It School, or Pain 101. In the c ulture of the Navy SEAL teams, it all begins at BUD/S. Perhaps no other military training carries with it the mystique--and pain-- associated with this training. The Warrior Elite focused on this basic course. It is the crucible that takes qualified young sailo rs and naval officers and makes them candidates for SEAL training . Note that I used the term candidates for SEAL training. But BUD /S is where the real making of a Navy SEAL begins. Granted, the p rice of admission to the qualification course is steep. The coin of this culture is counted in terms of sweat and pain. Men are ve tted in BUD/S for their commitment and determination; it's a meas ure of heart. It is an accomplishment in itself to successfully c omplete BUD/S, but the basic course is no more than an admissions slip to advanced SEAL training--the finishing school. The etern al debate about BUD/S is whether this is a training program or a testing ground. In reality, it is both. First of all, it is an el aborate, tradition-bound screening process that seeks to find men who would rather die than quit. This is accomplished with a puni shing diet of physical conditioning, cold water, and lack of slee p--the same conditions in which Navy SEALs are expected to operat e. BUD/S trainees learn early on that unless they can come to ter ms with being cold and miserable for extended periods of time, th ey don't belong here. The training is brutal by design. BUD/S al so lays the foundation for basic SEAL operational skills. Many of these skills are fundamental, military/special operations tradec raft, and others are maritime-centric skills. The Navy SEAL is a versatile animal, capable of many of the disciplines of other SOF (special operations forces) components. The other SOF components , such as the Special Forces, the Rangers, and the Air Force Spec ial Tactics Teams, also conduct diving and small-boat training, b ut no special operator in the SOF community is as comfortable in the water as a SEAL. For the others, water is an obstacle; for SE ALs, it is a refuge. While SEAL capabilities do not stop at the w ater's edge, SEALs are, and will remain, the primary special oper ations maritime force. Before a man can become a SEAL, he must fi rst become a frogman. He must excel in a variety of military skil ls, but it is essential that he be comfortable in and under the s ea. Again, it all begins at BUD/S. This basic course, start to f inish, is a thirty-week endurance test. The attrition is dramatic as many young men discover that they have neither the heart nor the physical stamina for this life. Only about one man in five wh o passes the screening test and is admitted to BUD/S training wil l qualify to wear the Navy SEAL Trident. BUD/S is conducted at th e Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado, California. The Cente r, as it is called, is on the Naval Amphibious Base, a naval base that straddles a sand spit that connects the near-island of Coro nado to the city of Imperial Beach, situated just north of the U. S.-Mexican border. This famous sand spit is know as the Silver St rand, or simply the Strand. INDOC BUD/S training is conducted i n three phases: First Phase--physical conditioning; Second Phase- -diver training; and Third Phase--land warfare. In order to prepa re trainees for phase training, SEAL candidates must complete a p retraining course called the Indoctrination Course, or Indoc. Off icially, the purpose of Indoc is to physically, mentally, and env ironmentally prepare qualified SEAL candidates to begin BUD/S tra ining. Prior to the beginning of Indoc, trainees arrive at the Na val Special Warfare Center. For the most part, this is physical c onditioning without pressure--a time to tune up for the ordeal ah ead. BUD/S trainees come to the Special Warfare Center from a va riety of backgrounds. Newly commissioned ensigns come from the Na val Academy, the Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps (NROTC), an d a few from Officer Candidate School. Most classes include fleet officers, lieutenants or junior-grade lieutenants--who come to B UD/S after a tour aboard ship. The leadership of these seasoned o fficers is often critical to the success of a BUD/S class. Many o f the enlisted men come from boot camp, usually by way of a Navy school that will help them qualify in their rate, or naval techni cal specialty. They joined the Navy with the goal of becoming a N avy SEAL. Some enlisted men come from the fleet with shipboard ex perience or a tour at a shore facility. The leadership of these p etty officers is also critical to the success of a BUD/S class. A nd some SEAL candidates, both officers and enlisted men, come fro m other services. The challenge of BUD/S training draws men from other SOF components and from the Marine Corps. The Indoctrinati on Course is currently a five-week curriculum. Here the trainees will learn the rules and conventions of BUD/S training, and about the culture and ethos of this warrior class. Indoc is also desig ned to physically and mentally bring the class together. Most of the students have prepared for this individually. Now they will l ive and train as a class--as a team. The days are long with liber al doses of timed beach runs, soft-sand conditioning runs, group physical training (known as PT sessions), and a great deal of tim e in the water. There are standards of performance--individual ti mes that trainees must achieve or face being dropped from the cou rse. BUD/S classes that work together and demonstrate teamwork wi ll not necessarily have an easy time of it, but they can avoid a great deal of discretionary pain. Team play, and the lack of it, never escapes the watchful eyes of the BUD/S instructors. A day in the life of an Indoc trainee begins at 0530 for pool training or for a four-mile beach run. After breakfast, his morning could be taken up by calisthenics, the obstacle course (called simply t he O-course), or practical work with basic SEAL equipment. The af ternoon could begin with a conditioning run in the soft sand, mor e pool work, or classroom sessions on subjects ranging from first aid to proper nutrition. There may or may not be a training evol ution after the evening meal. Many times throughout the training day, the class is sent into the surf, usually in their fatigue un iforms and boots. Now they are cold and wet. On their return from the surf, they are made to roll in the sand. Now they are cold, wet, and sandy--a normal condition for a BUD/S trainee. There is a price to pay for meals as well. The round-trip from the Center to the chow hall is two miles. That's six miles of running, often after a trip to the surf, just to get three squares a day. This will continue, in one form or another, for the next six months. At the conclusion of Indoc, the attrition has already begun. Five percent of the candidates quit before they even begin Indoc; the y simply become intimidated by the whole process. Up to 20 percen t will voluntarily drop from training during Indoc--a few from in juries, some from the pain of the moment, but most because they n ow understand that this pace and the cold water will not end for months and months. In truth, it will never end. Most of these men are physically capable, but they lack the mental toughness to co ntinue. Most still want to be Navy SEALs. They simply didn't unde rstand the price of admission to this club. FIRST PHASE First P hase training presents a different set of instructors and a new s et of challenges for the BUD/S class. First Phase is quite simila r to Indoc, but the intensity is turned up a notch--perhaps two n otches. It begins on day one with a killer PT session. After a tr ip to the surf and a roll in the sand, each trainee will do more than five hundred push-ups and sixty pull-ups before First Phase is an hour old. Each man is expected to lower his run, swim, and O-course times. There are new challenges like surf passage and l og PT--a game in which the teams of trainees juggle sections of t elephone poles. They undergo a drown-proofing test with their han ds and feet bound, and an underwater fifty-five-yard swim without fins. In First Phase, the days are longer than in Indoc, with le ss time for sleep. The weekends, which provide much-needed time f or battered bodies to rest and heal, seem shorter. And for First Phase trainees, the prospect of an upcoming Hell Week hangs over them like a dark cloud. Pre-Hell Week training is devoted to tou ghening a class and preparing it for Hell Week. Post-Hell Week tr aining must allow for healing and teaching skills the class will need before it moves on to the advanced phases of BUD/S training. This balance is not easy to achieve. Hell Week may be one of the most intense and demanding challenges, both physically and menta lly, in the armed forces of any nation. A class may lose 20 to 40 percent of its number in the days before Hell Week. During Hell Week alone it can be as high as 60 percent. I closely followed Cl ass 228 during the writing of The Warrior Elite. Ninety-eight men began Indoc with Class 228. Of those ninety-eight, nineteen fini shed Hell Week. Of those nineteen, ten graduated with Class 228. A tradition that begins during Indoc and carries over into First Phase is intense competition within the class. The competition i s driven in large part by the fact that in BUD/S it, Crown, 2004, 3, Very Good. The Bestselling Robotics Book--Now with New Projects and Online Tools! ""Amazing...should be required reading for any budding robot builder!"" -GeekDad, Wired.com Have fun while learning how to design, construct, and use small robots! This richly illustrated guide offers everything you need to know to construct sophisticated, fully autonomous robots that can be programmed from your computer. Fully updated with the latest technologies and techniques, Robot Builder's Bonanza, Fourth Edition includes step-by-step plans that take you from building basic motorized platforms to giving the machine a brain--and teaching it to walk, talk, and obey commands. This robot builder's paradise is packed with more than 100 affordable projects, including 10 completely new robot designs. The projects are modular and can be combined to create a variety of highly intelligent and workable robots of all shapes and sizes. Mix and match the projects to develop your own unique creations. The only limit is your imagination! Robot Builder's Bonanza, Fourth Edition covers: Parts, materials, and tools Building motorized wooden, plastic, and metal platforms Rapid prototyping methods Drafting bots with computer-aided design Constructing high-tech robots from toys Building bots from found parts Power, motors, and locomotion Robots with wheels, tracks, and legs Constructing robotic arms and grippers Robot electronics and circuit making Computers and electronic control Microcontrollers--Arduino, PICAXE, and the BASIC stamp Remote control systems Sensors, navigation, and visual feedback Robot vision via proximity, light, and distance New! FREE online content at: www.robotoid.com My First Robot tutorial lessons Project parts finder Animated, interactive learning tools How-to videos, robot e-plans, bonus articles, links, and more Plus, go to: www.mhprofessional.com/rbb4 for: Downloadable programs RBB app notes Bonus chapters Make Great Stuff! TAB, an imprint of McGraw-Hill Professional, is a leading publisher of DIY technology books for makers, hackers, and electronics hobbyists., 3<

ISBN: 9780071750363

McGraw-Hill/Tab Electronics. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Po… Altro …

McGraw-Hill/Tab Electronics. Paperback. GOOD. Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. May contain limited notes, underlining or highlighting that does affect the text. Possible ex library copy, will have the markings and stickers associated from the library. Accessories such as CD, codes, toys, may not be included., McGraw-Hill/Tab Electronics, 2.5<

2011, ISBN: 0071750363

[EAN: 9780071750363], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [SC: 4.06], [PU: McGraw-Hill/Tab Electronics], MCCOMB GORDON ROBOT BUILDER'S BONANZA 4TH EDITION, The book has been read, but is in ex… Altro …

[EAN: 9780071750363], Gebraucht, sehr guter Zustand, [SC: 4.06], [PU: McGraw-Hill/Tab Electronics], MCCOMB GORDON ROBOT BUILDER'S BONANZA 4TH EDITION, The book has been read, but is in excellent condition. Pages are intact and not marred by notes or highlighting. The spine remains undamaged., Books<

ISBN: 9780071750363

Paperback. Good., 2.5