"George Alec Effinger - Marid 2 - A Fire In The Sun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)GEORGE ALEC EFFINGER
BANTAM BOOKS NEW YORK тАв TORONTO тАв LONDON тАв SYDNEY тАв AUCKLAND A FIRE IN TOE SUN A Bantam Spectra Book I April 1990 spectra and the portrayal of a boxed "s" are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. Copyright ┬й 7990 by George Alec Effinger. Cover art copyright ┬й 7990 fry Steve and Paul Youll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books. My grandfather, George Conrad Effinger, whom I never knew, was a police officer in the city of Cleveland during the Depression. He was killed in the line of duty. This book is dedicated to his memory, growing fainter now each year in the minds of those people who did know him, except for his policeman's shield, Badge #374, hung with pride in a station house in Cleveland. Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them. тАФoscar wilde The Picture of Dorian Gray If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book." ISBN 0-553-27407-4 Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marco Registrada. Bantam Books, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10103. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 7e'd ridden for many days out the coast highway toward Mauretania, the part of Algeria where I'd been born. In that time, even at its lethargic pace, the broken-down old bus had carried us from the city to some town forsaken by Allah before it even learned what its name was. Centuries come, centuries go: In the Arab world they arrive and depart loaded on the roofs of shud-dering, rattling buses that are more trouble to keep in service than the long parades of camels used to be. I re-membered what those bus rides were like from when I |
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