HORRIBLE HISTORIES GRUESOME GUIDES: DUBLIN takes his readers on a gore-tastic tour of the streets of Dublin, exposing all of its most scurrilous secrets. With the frightful full-colour map tourists can plot their path to the past - picnic with pirates at St Stephen's Green, creep around the cruel cathedrals and then head to dreadful Dublin castle. Torture, traitors and cut-throat Irish chieftains, it's a trip no Horrible Histories fan will want to miss!
In the bar-parlor of the Angler's Rest, Mr. Mulliner tells his amazing tales, holding the assembled company of Pints of Stout and Whiskies and Splash in the palm of his expressive hand. Here you can discover what happened to the man who gave up smoking, share a frisson when the butler delivers something squishy on a silver salver ("Your serpent, Sir," said the voice of Simmons) - and experience the dreadful unpleasantness at Bludleigh Court. Throughout, the Mulliner clan remains resourcefully in command in the most outlandish situations.
Added by: Kahena | Karma: 11526.37 | Fiction literature | 13 August 2011
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The Dreadful Lemon Sky
The Dreadful Lemon Sky (1975) is the sixteenth novel in the Travis McGee series by John D. MacDonald. It is the 87th novel in The Top 100 Crime Novels of All Time as compiled by the Mystery Writers of America (it is not included in the U.K. version of the list). Travis McGee has been offered easy money by a longtime lady friend. But when she gets killed, McGee's got a boatload of mystery. Navigating his boat into troubled waters, he heads for the seamier side of Florida--where drug dealing, twisted sex, and corruption are easy to find--but murderous riddles are hard to solve....
. . . Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one centre of pain. The paralysing immobility of a life every circumstance of which is regulated after an unchangeable pattern, so that we eat and drink and lie down and pray, or kneel at least for prayer, according to the inflexible laws of an iron formula: this immobile quality, that makes each dreadful day in the very minutest detail like its brother, seems to communicate itself to those external forces the very essence of whose existence is ceaseless change.
