Methuen, Philip:Volvo 260 Series Owners Workshop Manual, 1975 Thru 1980, GLE & Coupe
- edizione con copertina flessibile 1980, ISBN: 9780856964008
edizione con copertina rigida
Knopf. Very Good. 6.68 x 1.38 x 9.58 inches. Hardcover. 2014. First edition. 416 pages. <br>Pub Date: 2014-05-13 Pages: 416 Language: English Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing … Altro …
Knopf. Very Good. 6.68 x 1.38 x 9.58 inches. Hardcover. 2014. First edition. 416 pages. <br>Pub Date: 2014-05-13 Pages: 416 Language: English Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing ... The author of the best- selling Harry Hole series now gives us an electrifying stand-alon e novel set inside Oslo & rsquo; s maze of especially venal . hig h-level corruption Sonny Lofthus is a strangely charismatic and c omplacent young man Sonny & rsquo;.... s been in prison for a doz en years. nearly half his life The inmates who seek out his uncan ny abilities to soothe leave his cell feeling absolved They don & rsquo; t know or care that Sonny has a serious heroin habit & md ash; or where or how he gets his uninterrupted supply of the drug Or that he & rsquo;. s serving time for other peoples & rsquo;. crimes Sonny took the first steps toward addiction when his fathe r took his own life rather than face exposure as a corrupt cop No w Sonny is the seemingly malleable center of a whole infr... Edi torial Reviews From Booklist *Starred Review* On the surface, Ne sbø's gripping new stand-alone might seem like another installmen t of the Harry Hole series but featuring a new cast of characters . A serial killer is at work in Oslo, and a maverick cop with his share of personal demons is on his trail. But beneath that surfa ce, there is a complex psychological thriller churning its way in to the reader's nightmares. Sonny Lofthus is in prison for crimes he didn't commit but for which he has agreed to take the fall--i n exchange for an unending supply of heroin. The drugs are Sonny' s way of dealing with the knowledge that his father, an apparent suicide, was a dirty cop. As the novel begins, however, Sonny has new information about his father's death and has engineered a da ring escape from prison. His revenge-fueled plan is to kill those responsible for the crimes he was convicted of by re-creating th e murders with the real killers now the victims. The more we lear n about Sonny, the more we root for him to evade capture, either by the police or by the crime lord who wants him dead. Juggling p oint of view between Sonny, Simon Kefas (the cop chasing him), an d the various corrupt officials who risk exposure the longer Sonn y is free, Nesbø thwarts our every attempt to draw conclusions ab out both what happened in the past and who is the least guilty am ong the principals. There is an element of the classic film noir Breathless at work here but with more characters of varying shade s of gray whose fates hinge on numerous moving parts. A terrific thriller but also a tragic, very moving story of intertwined char acters swerving desperately to avoid the dead ends in their paths . HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: With 24 million copies of his books sold , Nesbø is now second only to Stieg Larsson among Scandinavian cr ime writers. His fame is sure to grow still more as Martin Scorse se and Leonardo DiCaprio are about to begin filming The Snowman. --Bill Ott Review A deftly plotted novel that probes the deepest mysteries: sin, redemption, love, evil, the human condition. . . . One of Nesb's best, deepest and richest novels. --Kirkus Revie ws (starred review) Excellent . . . Nesb takes the reader on a c hilling ride with many unexpected twists. --Publishers Weekly (st arred review) The standard bearer for the phenomenon that is Sca ndinavian crime fiction. . . . Fast-paced and imaginatively viole nt, this latest example of Nesbo's Nordic noir hurtles like an ex press train towards a last act of almost operatic extravagance th at leaves dead bodies and carefully nurtured reputations litterin g the stage. Great stuff altogether. --Independent (Ireland) [Ne sb is] one of the current leading lights in Scandinavian crime fi ction . . . Ridiculously talented . . . with his clear gift for h airpin twists and turns. . . . The thriller is so tightly plotted that it will keep readers steadfastly glued to their seat. . . . What Nesb has crafted is not a whodunit in the traditional sense , as the writer is interested in the far more fascinating questio n of what can drive a person to evil? --Daily Style (Australia) Scandinavian Reviews Nesb's new book makes all the hype before p ublication seem like false modesty, and is quite simply a fantast ic piece of crime literature. . . . First and foremost, this is a clever, enthralling and driven story that is impossible to put d own. --Dagens Nringsliv (Norway) Yet another powerful demonstrat ion of Nesb's talent for creating a story that plays on all nerve strands and with so much intensity that it embodies both the Bib le and Batman at once. It is really well done. It is still early in the year, but I wouldn't be surprised if someone should dub Th e Son as the crime novel of the year. --Ekstra Bladet (Denmark) The pace proves to be on top in the new book, in a positive sense . This remains Norwegian crime literature in a class by itself. A plot that stretches and spreads out like great mathematical form ulas, with many unfamiliar characters in the equation, but withou t being arcane or excessive in his fantastic interpretations. . . . Jo Nesb prevails once again. --Dagsavisen (Norway) The Son is a modern take on the story about Christ, that tackles the corrup tion in Oslo. . . . Jo Nesb's writing is incredible as usual. --J yllands-Posten (Denmark) Tremendously well written by Nesb. . . . There is something unstoppably vital about Jo Nesb as a designe r of crime stories in the baroque style. His pen is on fire and a lthough it may be noted that it goes too fast sometimes linguisti cally, the stories he creates has so many staggering twists and t urns that it is almost physically impossible not to get hooked. - -Aftenposten (Norway) Crime novels are rarely so skillfully told and at the same time so much more than pure entertainment. But N esb is a master. --Berlingske (Denmark) No Norwegian crime write r can create such complex crime plots without losing in detail li ke Nesb can. You might say that Nesb is both high and low in his texts, and that is one of the main reasons why his novels rise ab ove most others in this genre. --Dagbladet (Norway) It is a form idable, diabolically clever and devilishly good book that is well put together, down to the smallest detail. --Nordjyske Stiftstid ene (Denmark) The story . . . is propelled with great force and an unerring sense of detail. . . . It is simply thrilling to read . --NRK (Norway) Fast-paced and rip-roaring suspenseful. --Polit iken (Denmark) No one at our latitudes knows the game like Nesb does. No one is even close to his craftsmanship in writing crime novels that hold such international standard. --Adresseavisen (No rway) A high level of suspense all the way and limitless brutali ty. The bad guys get what they deserves and Nesb's writing is alm ost more cynical and concrete than usual. There are also a few lo ve stories along the way, that--almost--end happily. --Lolland-Fa lsters Folketidende (Denmark) About the Author JO NESB is a musi cian, songwriter, and economist, as well as a writer. His Harry H ole novels include The Redeemer, The Snowman, The Leopard, and Ph antom, and he is also the author of several stand-alone novels an d the Doctor Proctor series of children's books. He is the recipi ent of numerous awards including the Glass Key for best Nordic cr ime novel. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserve d. 1 Rover kept his eyes on the white-painted concrete floor in the eleven-square-metre prison cell. He bit down on the slightly too long gold front tooth in his lower jaw. He had reached the ha rdest part of his confession. The only sound in the cell was his nails scratching the madonna tattoo on his forearm. The boy sitti ng cross-legged on the bed opposite him had remained silent ever since Rover had entered. He had merely nodded and smiled his blis sful Buddha smile, his gaze fixed at a point on Rover's forehead. People called the boy Sonny and said that he had killed two peop le as a teenager, that his father had been a corrupt police offic er and that Sonny had healing hands. It was hard to see if the bo y was listening--his green eyes and most of his face were hidden behind his long, matted hair--but that didn't matter. Rover just wanted his sins forgiven and to receive Sonny's distinctive bless ing so that tomorrow he could walk out of Staten Maximum Security Prison with the feeling of being a truly cleansed man. Not that Rover was religious, but it could do no harm when he intended to change, to give going straight a real try. Rover took a deep brea th. I think she was from Belarus. Minsk is in Belarus, isn't it? Rover looked up quickly, but the boy made no reply. Nestor had n icknamed her Minsk, Rover said. He told me to shoot her. The obv ious advantage of confessing to someone whose brain was fried was that no name and incident would stick; it was like talking to yo urself. This might explain why inmates at Staten preferred this g uy to the chaplain or the psychologist. Nestor kept her and eigh t other girls in a cage down in Enerhaugen. East Europeans and As ians. Young. Teenagers. At least I hope they were as old as that. But Minsk was older. Stronger. She escaped. Got as far as Tyen P ark before Nestor's dog caught her. One of those Argentine mastif fs--know what I'm talking about? The boy's eyes never moved, but he raised his hand. Found his beard. He started to comb it slowl y with his fingers. The sleeve of his filthy, oversized shirt sli pped down and revealed scabs and needle marks. Rover went on. Bl oody big albino dogs. Kills anything its owner points at. And qui te a lot he doesn't. Banned in Norway, 'course. A guy out in Rlen gen got some from the Czech Republic, breeds them and registers t hem as white boxers. Me and Nestor went there to buy one when it was a pup. It cost more than fifty grand in cash. The puppy was s o cute you wouldn't ever think it . . . Rover stopped. He knew he was only talking about the dog to put off the inevitable. Anyway . . . Anyway. Rover looked at the tattoo on his other forearm. A cathedral with two spires. One for each sentence he had served, neither of which had anything to do with today's confession. He used to supply guns to a biker gang and modify some of them in hi s workshop. He was good at it. Too good. So good that he couldn't remain below the radar forever and he was caught. And so good th at, while serving his first sentence, Nestor had taken him under his wing. Nestor had made sure he owned him so that from then on only Nestor would get his hands on the best guns, rather than the biker gang or any other rivals. He had paid him more for a few m onths' work than Rover could ever hope to earn in a lifetime in h is workshop fixing motorbikes. But Nestor had demanded a lot in r eturn. Too much. She was lying in the bushes, blood everywhere. She just lay there, dead still, staring up at us. The dog had tak en a chunk out of her face--you could see straight to the teeth. Rover grimaced. Get to the point. Nestor said it was time to teac h them a lesson, show the other girls what would happen to them. And that Minsk was worthless to him now anyway, given the state o f her face . . . Rover swallowed. So he told me to do it. Finish her off. That's how I'd prove my loyalty, you see. I had an old R uger MK II pistol that I'd done some work on. And I was going to do it. I really was. That wasn't the problem . . . Rover felt hi s throat tighten. He had thought about it so often, gone over tho se seconds during that night in Tyen Park, seeing the girl over a nd over again. Nestor and himself taking the leading roles with t he others as silent witnesses. Even the dog had been silent. He h ad thought about it perhaps a hundred times. A thousand? And yet it wasn't until now, when he said the words out loud for the firs t time, that he realised that it hadn't been a dream, that it rea lly had happened. Or rather it was as if his body hadn't accepted it until now. That was why his stomach was churning. Rover breat hed deeply through his nose to quell the nausea. But I couldn't do it. Even though I knew she was gonna die. They had the dog at the ready and I was thinking that me, I'd have preferred a bullet . But it was as if the trigger was locked in position. I just cou ldn't pull it. The young man seemed to be nodding faintly. Eithe r in response to what Rover was telling him or to music only he c ould hear. Nestor said we didn't have all day, we were in a publ ic park after all. So he took out a small, curved knife from a le g holster, stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her u p and just seemed to swing the knife in front of her throat. As i f gutting a fish. Blood spurted out three, four times, then she w as empty. But d'you know what I remember most of all? The dog. Ho w it started howling at the sight of all that blood. Rover leane d forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees. He covered h is ears with his hands and rocked back and forth. And I did noth ing. I just stood there, looking on. I did fuck all. While they w rapped her in a blanket and carried her to the car, I just watche d. We drove her to the woods, to stmarksetra. Lifted her out and rolled her down the slope towards Ulsrudsvannet. Lots of people t ake their dogs for walks there so she was found the next day. The point was, Nestor wanted her to be found, d'you get me? He wante d pictures in the papers of what had happened to her. So he could show them to the other girls. Rover removed his hands from his ears. I stopped sleeping; every time I closed my eyes I had nigh tmares. The girl with the missing cheek smiled at me and bared al l her teeth. So I went to see Nestor and told him I wanted out. S aid I'd had enough of filing down Uzis and Glocks, that I wanted to go back to fixing motorbikes. Live a quiet life, not worry abo ut the cops the whole time. Nestor said that was OK, he'd probabl y sussed that I didn't have it in me to be a tough guy. But he ma de it very clear what would happen to me if I talked. I thought w e were sorted. I turned down every job I was offered even though I still had some decent Uzis lying around. But I kept thinking th at something was brewing. That I would be bumped off. So I was al most relieved when the cops came and I got put away. I thought I' d be safer in prison. They got me on an old case--I was only an a ccessory, but they had arrested two guys who both said that I had supplied them with weapons. I confessed to it on the spot. Rove r laughed hard. He started to cough. He leaned back in his chair. In, Knopf, 2014, 3, Newbury Park, CA: Haynes Publishing, 1980. Book block clean and tight. Cover edges and corners bumped. Cover rubbed, slightly soiled.. 1st Printing. Wraps. Good/No Jacket. Illus. by B&W Illustrations and Photos. Quarto. Paperback., Haynes Publishing, 1980, 2.5<
