Zola fred (8 Ergebnisse)

paperback. Zustand: Very Good.

Zustand: New. In English.

Zustand: New. In English.

Zustand: New. In English.

Paperback. Zustand: Brand New. 270 pages. 6.00x0.73x9.00 inches. In Stock.

Zustand: Very Good. Zustand des Schutzumschlags: No Dust Jacket As Issued. Faux red leather with gilt titles; Top edge gilt; 8vo; 8.25 inches tall; 9-485 [advert] [blank] Illustrated with silhouettes by Fred A Meyer. The bindings are tight and square. Text clean, light even age-toning. Modest shelf handling wear. Nana, a novel by the French naturalist author Émile Zola completed in 1880, is the ninth installment in the 20-volume Les Rougon-Macquart series. The story follows Nana Coupeau's transformation from a streetwalker to a celebrated high-class prostitute during the final years of the French Second Empire. Nana, the daughter of a drunkard and a laundress, rises to fame as a sexually magnetic actress, captivating Parisian society and ensnaring men such as the wealthy banker Steiner. She manipulates her allure to gain wealth and gifts, including a country house where she indulges in affairs. However, her seductive power ultimately leads to the downfall of her lovers, particularly Count Muffat, and she herself faces an unexpected twist of fate. [Adapted from Reviews]. Illustrated by Fred A Mayer, . (illustrator).…

Gebunden. Zustand: New. KlappentextrnrnThe first four chapters are a memoir of my days in Morocco 1972-1973.nn I was a Hippie smoking hashish and taking LSD regularly. This led to a psychotic breakdown. Moroccan authorities placed me in a prison for the insane in Tangi.

Zustand: Hervorragend. Zustand: Hervorragend | Seiten: 270 | Sprache: Englisch | Produktart: Bücher | I died and went to hell.Tangier, Morocco, North Africa, 1972, prison for the insane, life sentence.While buying hashish, the Moroccan dealers would say, "Hash makes you crazy." We hippies knew better and laughed. For two years, I smoked hash every day and dropped acid on holidays. Some of those holidays were made up, so I had an excuse to drop more acid.I lived on the "hash trail" that began in Amsterdam and ended in Kathmandu. The trail went right by my front door in Tangier. Traveling the trail were smugglers, flower children, outlaws, draft dodgers, and rock stars.I was on a spiritual journey, studying Tibetan Buddhism while seeking enlightenment. My error was thinking hashish and LSD were a shortcut to Nirvana.The Moroccans were right. Hash did make me crazy, thus prison, no future, no hope. I had to fight for food, fight for a spot to sleep, learn the difference between head lice and clothes lice.No place could be worse; this must be hell.Then God reached into that inferno and pulled me out.…