One Bronze Knuckle - Gordon, Kenneth Hunter
20,99 €
inkl. MwSt.

Versandfertig in über 4 Wochen
payback
10 °P sammeln
  • Broschiertes Buch

The Bergers have prospered in Bergerton since the day that Jonathan Berger's great-great grandfather refused to move from the very spot where his donkey cart had toppled over on the side of the road. Fortune smiles upon them all—until a catastrophic fire strikes on the night of the annual Feast of Sullivan, and they find themselves lost and scattered to the winds.  But despite facing runaway grandchildren, a pitchfork-armed local militia lost to the wars in the north, rival churches, a home for wayward boys, and goat caves converted to a makeshift prison, the Bergers also discover the bonds…mehr

Andere Kunden interessierten sich auch für
Produktbeschreibung
The Bergers have prospered in Bergerton since the day that Jonathan Berger's great-great grandfather refused to move from the very spot where his donkey cart had toppled over on the side of the road. Fortune smiles upon them all—until a catastrophic fire strikes on the night of the annual Feast of Sullivan, and they find themselves lost and scattered to the winds.  But despite facing runaway grandchildren, a pitchfork-armed local militia lost to the wars in the north, rival churches, a home for wayward boys, and goat caves converted to a makeshift prison, the Bergers also discover the bonds that connect them across distances—and that no matter what, they can always come home.
Hinweis: Dieser Artikel kann nur an eine deutsche Lieferadresse ausgeliefert werden.
Autorenporträt
Kenneth Hunter Gordon answers to "Kenny" in real life. He’s reasonably handy with tools and can probably fix it if he can find the right glue. His favorite punctuation mark is the ellipsis. He lives in Salt Lake City with his family; prior to that he lived in Los Angeles, where he played in a reggae band and almost met Tracey Ullman. He’s been publishing poetry and short fiction in literary magazines for many years. This is his first novel. Seriously, the ellipsis . . . Is it a pregnant pause? A raised eyebrow? A wistful trailing off? It has such character, yet it’s so ambiguous. Like arugula . . .