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Verlag: Simon & Schuster Ltd, United Kingdom, London, 2015
ISBN 10: 1471134490ISBN 13: 9781471134494
Anbieter: WorldofBooks, Goring-By-Sea, WS, Vereinigtes Königreich
Buch
Paperback. Zustand: Very Good. 'On the last day of 1959 my father, the Beau Brummel of morticians, piled us into his green and white Desoto in which we looked like a moving pack of Salem cigarettes. He drove away from Lanesboro, the city in which we all were born, and into a small town on the Kentucky and Tennessee border. It was only a ninety-minute drive, but it might as well have been to Alaska. When our big boat of a car glided into Jubilee we circled the town square and headed towards the residential section of Main Street. My father pulled the car over and our five dark heads turned to face a huge, slightly run down house. My parents were total strangers to this tiny enclave, but it didn't matter because my father had finally realised his dream in this old house, which was to own his own funeral home.'. The book has been read, but is in excellent condition. Pages are intact and not marred by notes or highlighting. The spine remains undamaged.
Verlag: Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2015
ISBN 10: 1471134490ISBN 13: 9781471134494
Anbieter: medimops, Berlin, Deutschland
Buch
Zustand: very good. Gut/Very good: Buch bzw. Schutzumschlag mit wenigen Gebrauchsspuren an Einband, Schutzumschlag oder Seiten. / Describes a book or dust jacket that does show some signs of wear on either the binding, dust jacket or pages.
Verlag: Simon & Schuster UK 2015-02-12, London, 2015
ISBN 10: 1471134490ISBN 13: 9781471134494
Anbieter: Blackwell's, London, Vereinigtes Königreich
Buch
paperback. Zustand: New. Language: ENG.
Verlag: Simon & Schuster Ltd, 2015
ISBN 10: 1471134490ISBN 13: 9781471134494
Anbieter: Rheinberg-Buch Andreas Meier eK, Bergisch Gladbach, Deutschland
Buch
paperback. Zustand: Gebraucht. Gebraucht - Sehr gut Leichte Lagerspuren -'On the last day of 1959 my father, the Beau Brummel of morticians, piled us into his green and white Desoto in which we looked like a moving pack of Salem cigarettes. He drove away from Lanesboro, the city in which we all were born, and into a small town on the Kentucky and Tennessee border. It was only a ninety-minute drive, but it might as well have been to Alaska.When our big boat of a car glided into Jubilee we circled the town square and headed towards the residential section of Main Street. My father pulled the car over and our five dark heads turned to face a huge, slightly run down house. My parents were total strangers to this tiny enclave, but it didn't matter because my father had finally realised his dream in this old house, which was to own his own funeral home.' 368 pp. Englisch.