2013, ISBN: 9780553409222

Paperback

Bantam. Good. 5.2 x 0.9 x 7.9 inches. Paperback. 2013. 448 pages. Cover creased and worn.<br>In the spirit of Loving Fra nk and The Paris Wife, acclaimed novelist Melanie Benjamin p… More...

Bantam. Good. 5.2 x 0.9 x 7.9 inches. Paperback. 2013. 448 pages. Cover creased and worn.<br>In the spirit of Loving Fra nk and The Paris Wife, acclaimed novelist Melanie Benjamin pulls back the curtain on the marriage of one of America's most extraor dinary couples: Charles Lindbergh and Anne Morrow Lindbergh. The history [is] exhilarating. . . . The Aviator's Wife soars.--USA Today NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER When Anne Morrow, a shy college senior with hidden literary aspirations, travels to Mexico City to spend Christmas with her family, she meets Colonel Charles Lin dbergh, fresh off his celebrated 1927 solo flight across the Atla ntic. Enthralled by Charles's assurance and fame, Anne is certain the aviator has scarcely noticed her. But she is wrong. Charles sees in Anne a kindred spirit, a fellow adventurer, and her world will be changed forever. The two marry in a headline-making wedd ing. In the years that follow, Anne becomes the first licensed fe male glider pilot in the United States. But despite this and othe r major achievements, she is viewed merely as the aviator's wife. The fairy-tale life she once longed for will bring heartbreak an d hardships, ultimately pushing her to reconcile her need for lov e and her desire for independence, and to embrace, at last, life' s infinite possibilities for change and happiness. Look for spec ial features inside. Join the Random House Reader's Circle for au thor chats and more. Praise for The Aviator's Wife Remarkable . . . The Aviator's Wife succeeds [in] putting the reader inside A nne Lindbergh's life with her famous husband.--The Denver Post A nne Morrow Lindbergh narrates the story of the Lindberghs' troubl ed marriage in all its triumph and tragedy.--USA Today [This nov el] will fascinate history buffs and surprise those who know of h er only as 'the aviator's wife.' --People It's hard to quit read ing this intimate historical fiction.--The Dallas Morning News F ictional biography at its finest.--Booklist (starred review) Utt erly unforgettable.--Publishers Weekly (starred review) An intim ate examination of the life and emotional mettle of Anne Morrow.- -The Washington Post A story of both triumph and pain that will take your breath away.--Kate Alcott, author of The Dressmaker Ed itorial Reviews Review The history is exhilarating. . . . The Av iator's Wife soars. . . . Anne Morrow Lindbergh narrates the stor y of the Lindberghs' troubled marriage in all its triumph and tra gedy.--USA Today Remarkable . . . The Aviator's Wife succeeds [i n] putting the reader inside Anne Lindbergh's life with her famou s husband.--The Denver Post [This novel] will fascinate history buffs and surprise those who know of her only as 'the aviator's w ife.' --People It's hard to quit reading this intimate historica l fiction.--The Dallas Morning News Fictional biography at its f inest.--Booklist (starred review) Utterly unforgettable.--Publis hers Weekly (starred review) An intimate examination of the life and emotional mettle of Anne Morrow.--The Washington Post A sto ry of both triumph and pain that will take your breath away.--Kat e Alcott, author of The Dressmaker Melanie Benjamin inhabits Ann e Morrow Lindbergh completely, freeing her from the shadows of he r husband's stratospheric fame.--Isabel Wolff, author of A Vintag e Affair About the Author Melanie Benjamin is the New York Times bestselling author of The Children's Blizzard, Mistress of the R itz, The Girls in the Picture, The Swans of Fifth Avenue, The Avi ator's Wife, The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb, and Alice I Hav e Been. Benjamin lives in Chicago, Illinois, where she is at work on her next historical novel. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permissio n. All rights reserved. Benjamin / THE AVIATOR'S WIFE chapter 1 December 1927 Down to earth. I repeated the phrase to myself, whispering it in wonder. Down to earth. What a plodding expressio n, really, when you considered it--­I couldn't help but think of muddy fields and wheel ruts and worms--­yet people always meant i t as a compliment. 'Down to earth'--­did you hear that, Elisabe th? Can you believe Daddy would say that about an aviator, of all people? I doubt he even realized what he was saying, my sister murmured as she scribbled furiously on her lap desk, despite the rocking motion of the train. Now, Anne, dear, if you'd just let m e finish this letter . . . Of course he didn't, I persisted, ref using to be ignored. This was the third letter she'd written toda y! Daddy never does know what he's saying, which is why I love hi m. But honestly, that's what his letter said--­'I do hope you can meet Colonel Lindbergh. He's so down to earth!' Well, Daddy is quite taken with the colonel. . . . Oh, I know--­and I didn't m ean to criticize him! I was just thinking out loud. I wouldn't sa y anything like that in person. Suddenly my mood shifted, as it a lways seemed to do whenever I was with my family. Away from them, I could be confident, almost careless, with my words and ideas. Once, someone even called me vivacious (although to be honest, he was a college freshman intoxicated by bathtub gin and his first whiff of expensive perfume). Whenever my immediate family gather ed, however, it took me a while to relax, to reacquaint myself wi th the rhythm of speech and good-­natured joshing that they seeme d to fall into so readily. I imagined that they carried it with t hem, even when we were all scattered; I fancied each one of them humming the tune of this family symphony in their heads as they w ent about their busy lives. Like so many other family traits--­t he famous Morrow sense of humor, for instance--­the musical gene appeared to have skipped me. So it always took me longer to remem ber my part in this domestic song and dance. I'd been traveling w ith my sister and brother on this Mexican-­bound train for a week , and still I felt tongue-­tied and shy. Particularly around Dwig ht, now a senior at Groton; my brother had grown paler, prone to strange laughing fits, almost reverting to childhood at times, ev en as physically he was fast maturing into a carbon copy of our f ather. Elisabeth was the same as ever, and I was the same as eve r around her; no longer a confident college senior, I was diminis hed in her golden presence. In the stale air of the train car, I felt as limp and wrinkled as the sad linen dress I was wearing. W hile she looked as pressed and poised as a mannequin, not a wrink le or smudge on her smart silk suit, despite the red dust blowing in through the inadequate windows. Now, don't go brooding alrea dy, Anne, for heaven's sake! Of course you wouldn't criticize Dad dy to his face--­you, of all people! There! Elisabeth signed her letter with a flourish, folded it carefully, and tucked it in her pocket. I'll wait until later before I address it. Just think ho w grand it will look on the embassy stationery! Who are you writ ing this time? Connie? Elisabeth nodded brusquely; she wrote to Connie Chilton, her former roommate from Smith, so frequently the question hardly seemed worth acknowledging. Then I almost asked if she needed a stamp, before I remembered. We were dignitaries n ow. Daddy was ambassador to Mexico. We Morrows had no need for su ch common objects as stamps. All our letters would go in the spec ial government mail pouch, along with Daddy's memos and reports. It was rumored that Colonel Lindbergh himself would be taking a mail pouch back to Washington with him, when he flew away. At lea st, that's what Daddy had insinuated in his last let- ter, the on e I had received just before boarding the train in New York with Elisabeth and Dwight. We were in Mexico now; we'd crossed the bor der during the night. I couldn't stop marveling at the strange la ndscape as we'd chugged our way south; the flat, strangely light- ­filled plains of the Midwest; the dreary desert in Texas, the lo nely adobe houses or the occasional tin-­roofed shack underneath a bleached-­out, endless sky. Mexico, by contrast, was greener th an I had imagined, especially as we climbed toward Mexico City. Did you tell Connie that we saw Gloria Swanson with Mr. Kennedy? We'd caught a glimpse of the two, the movie star and the banker ( whom we knew socially), when they boarded the train in Texas. Bot h of them had their heads down and coat collars turned up. Joseph Kennedy was married, with a brood of Catholic children and a lov ely wife named Rose. Miss Swanson was married to a French marquis , according to the Photoplay I sometimes borrowed from my roommat e. I didn't. Daddy wouldn't approve. We do have to be more caref ul now that he's ambassador. That's true. But didn't she look so tiny in person! Much smaller than in the movies. Hardly taller t han me! I've heard that about movie stars. Elisabeth nodded thou ghtfully. They say Douglas Fairbanks isn't much taller than Mary Pickford. A colored porter knocked on the door to our compartmen t; he stuck his head inside. We'll be at the station momentarily, miss, he said to Elisabeth, who smiled graciously and nodded, he r blond curls tickling her forehead. Then he retreated. I can't wait to see Con, I said, my stomach dancing in anticipation. And Mother, of course. But mainly Con! I missed my little sister; mis sed and envied her, both. At fourteen, she was able to make the m ove to Mexico City with our parents and live the gay diplomatic l ife that I could glimpse only on holidays like this; my first sin ce Daddy had been appointed. I picked up my travel case and foll owed Elisabeth out of our private car and into the aisle, where w e were joined by Dwight, who was tugging at his tie. Is this tie d right, Anne? He frowned, looking so like Daddy that I almost la ughed; Daddy never could master the art of ty- ing a necktie, eit her. Daddy couldn't master the art of wearing clothes, period. Hi s pants were always too long and wrinkled, like elephants' knees. Yes, of course. But I gave it a good tug anyway. Then suddenly the train had stopped; we were on a platform swirling with excit ed passengers greeting their loved ones, in a soft, blanketing wa rmth that gently thawed my bones, still chilled from the Northamp ton winter I carried with me, literally, on my arm. I'd forgotten to pack my winter coat in my trunk. Anne! Elisabeth! Dwight! A chirping, a laugh, and then Con was there, her round little face brown from sun, her dark hair pulled back from her face with a ga y red ribbon. She was wearing a Mexican dress, all bright embroid ery and full skirt; she even had huaraches on her tiny feet. Oh, look at you! I hugged her, laughing. What a picture! A true seño rita! Darlings! Turning blindly, I found myself in my mother's embrace, and then too quickly released as she moved on to Elisabe th. Mother looked as ever, a sensible New England clubwoman plunk ed down in the middle of the tropics. Daddy, his pants swimming a s usual, his tie askew, was shaking Dwight's hand and kissing Eli sabeth on the cheek at the same time. Finally he turned to me; r ocking back on his heels, he looked me up and down and then nodde d solemnly, although his eyes twinkled. And there's Anne. Reliabl e Anne. You never change, my daughter. I blushed, not sure if th is was a compliment, choosing to think it might be. Then I ran to his open arms, and kissed his stubbly cheek. Merry Christmas, M r. Ambassador! Yes, yes--­a merry Christmas it will be! Now, hur ry up, hurry up, and you may be able to catch Colonel Lindbergh b efore he goes out. He's still here? I asked, as Mother marshaled us expertly into two waiting cars, both black and gleaming, oste ntatiously so. I was acutely aware of our luggage piling up on th e platform, matching and initialed and gleaming with comfortable wealth. I couldn't help but notice how many people were lugging s traw cases as they piled into donkey carts. Yes, Colonel Lindber gh is still here-- ­oh, my dear, you should have seen the crowds at the airfield when he arrived! Two hours late, but nobody minde d a bit. That plane, what's it called, the Ghost of St. Louis, is n't it--­ Con began to giggle helplessly, and I suppressed a smi le. It's the Spirit of St. Louis, I corrected her, and my mother met my gaze with a bemused expression in her downward-­slanted e yes. I felt myself blush, knowing what she was thinking. Anne? Sw ooning for the dashing young hero, just like all the other girls? Who could have imagined? Yes, of course, the Spirit of St. Loui s. And the colonel has agreed to spend the holidays with us in th e embassy. Your father is beside himself. Mr. Henry Ford has even sent a plane to fetch the colonel's mother, and she'll be here, as well. At dinner, Elisabeth will take special care of him--­oh, and you, too, dear, you must help. To tell the truth, I find the colonel to be rather shy. He's ridiculously shy, Con agreed, wi th another giggle. I don't think he's ever really talked to girls before! Con, now, please. The colonel's our guest. We must make him feel at home, Mother admonished. I listened in dismay as I followed her into the second car; Daddy, Dwight, and Elisabeth ro ared off in the first. The colonel--­a total stranger--­would be part of our family Christmas? I certainly hadn't bargained on tha t, and couldn't help but feel that it was rude of a stranger to i nsinuate himself in this way. Yet at the mere mention of his name my heart began to beat faster, my mind began to race with the im plications of this unexpected stroke of what the rest of the worl d would call enormous good luck. Oh, how the girls back at Smith would scream once they found out! How envious they all would be! Before I could sort out my tangled thoughts, we were being whisk ed away to the embassy at such a clip I didn't have time to take in the strange, exotic landscape of Mexico City. My only impressi on was a blur of multicolored lights in the gathering shadows of late afternoon, and bleached-­out buildings punctuated by violent shocks of color. So delightful to think that there were wildflow ers blooming in December! Is the colonel really as shy as all th at? It seemed impossible, that this extraordinary young man would suffer from such an ordinary affliction, just like me. Oh, yes. Talk to h, Bantam, 2013, 2.5, Bantam Books. Very Good. 3.94 x 7.87 x 9.84 inches. Paperback. 1996. 432 pages. <br>Single mother Annie Laird makes a huge mistake whe n she joins the jury at the murder trial of mob boss Louie Buffan o. Immediately, Annie is contacted by the Teacher, a Buffano lack ey, who makes it clear that her life, and that of her son Oliver, depend on her saying two words: Not Guilty. And so begins Green' s masterfully manipulative thriller, a gem of deft plotting given added lustre through its rich, if not wholly cohesive, character izations. The plot, jittering from one brutal, clever twist to th e next, will keep readers in a cold sweat. - Publisher's Weekly This novel is less a courtroom drama than a gripping psychologica l cat and mouse game. It should be in very high demand in public libraries. - Library Journal Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekly Single mother and struggling sculptress Annie Laird makes a huge mistake when she joins the jury at the Westchester murder trial of mob boss Louie Buffano. Immediately, Annie is contacted by the Teacher, the sleek, Lao Tse-quoting eminence grise behind Buffano, who makes it clear that life, and that of her son Oliver , depend on her saying two words: Not guilty. And so begins Green 's (The Caveman's Valentine) masterfully manipulative thriller, a gem of deft plotting given added lustre through its rich, if not wholly cohesive, characterizations. Annie is an especially fine creation, victimized by her whipsawing emotions as she panics, re bels, crosses her conscience and plots to trap the Teacher. The T eacher is equally complex, an utterly logical madman whose portra it is flawed only by his unlikely romantic obsession with Annie ( Buffano alone is a throwaway character, too clearly modeled on Jo hn Gotti). The plot, jittering from one brutal, clever twist to t he next, will keep readers in a cold sweat. Green pushes buttons without remorse, always keeping his finger poised above the one m arked Oliver's death-and as it descends at book's end, the tensio n is nearly unbearable. 200,000 first printing; major ad/promo; L iterary Guild and Doubleday Main Selection; audio rights to Time Warner AudioBooks. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc . --This text refers to an alternate paperback edition. About th e Author William Dufris has been nominated nine times as a finali st for the APA's prestigious Audie Award and has garnered twenty- one Earphones Awards from AudioFile magazine, which also named hi m one of the Best Voices at the End of the Century. He has also a cted on stage and television in the United States, the United Kin gdom, and Germany. --This text refers to an alternate paperback e dition. From Booklist Annie Laird and her adolescent son, Oliver , lead average lives. Annie is struggling financially and artisti cally, earning money as a data-entry clerk during the day so she can sculpt at night. Oliver enjoys computer games and has a crush on his mother's best friend. Both of them have fantasies of a be tter life, but not the life they are about to live. Immediately a fter Annie is accepted as a juror for a famous Mafia case, a myst erious, sexy businessman pays $12,000 for three of her works, wit h the promise of further purchases. And before the initial thrill of success wears off, Annie discovers that Vincent, aka the Teac her, doesn't need Annie's artwork. What he needs is an acquittal for his Mob-boss friend. And if he doesn't get it, well, he'll ki ll Oliver. A fair exchange. Watching Annie's every move, the Teac her comes to know what she will do even before she does it. In fa ct, he dictates through threats and pyschological games exactly w hat she will do. With her options disappearing before her eyes, A nnie tries frantically to protect her son and escape the clutches of a very disturbed individual. But she can't outsmart this guy- -she's got to kill him. A thrilling climax in Guatemala wraps eve rything up satisfactorily. The big publicity campaign will result in demand. Kathy Broderick --This text refers to an alternate pa perback edition. From Library Journal Annie Laird is a single mo ther, a part-time data entry clerk, an aspiring sculptor, and a j uror selected for the murder trial of a mob boss. When a suave, h andsome art broker buys some of her work and then invites her to dinner, she thinks her luck may be changing. Her supposed admirer , a Wall Street financier and Taoist nicknamed The Teacher, is ac tually the brains behind the jailed mobster. The Teacher is incre dibly charming; he's also a vicious killer. He promises Annie the continued safety of her son and the assurance of a lucrative art istic career in exchange for help in acquitting the mobster. But even if Annie agrees to the plan, she and her son may not be safe because the Teacher soon discovers he's in love with her. This n ovel by the author of The Caveman's Valentine (LJ 12/93) is less a courtroom drama than a gripping psychological cat-and-mouse gam e. It should be in very high demand in public libraries. Charles Michaud, Turner Free Lib., Randolph, Mass. Copyright 1994 Reed Bu siness Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate paper back edition. From AudioFile Annie Laird doesn't know the horror that awaits her when she's picked to serve on the jury of accuse d murderer and mobster Louie Buffano. The dual readership of Davi dovich and Heard functions perfectly. Heard takes on the gritty, tough voices of the mobsters while Davidovitch counter-balances w ith the innocent, terrified voice of Annie. I.Z. (c)AudioFile, Po rtland, Maine --This text refers to an alternate paperback editio n. ., Bantam Books, 1996, 3<

1996, ISBN: 9780553409222

Bantam Books. Very Good. 3.94 x 7.87 x 9.84 inches. Paperback. 1996. 432 pages. <br>Single mother Annie Laird makes a huge mistake whe n she joins the jury at the murder trial of mo… More...

Bantam Books. Very Good. 3.94 x 7.87 x 9.84 inches. Paperback. 1996. 432 pages. <br>Single mother Annie Laird makes a huge mistake whe n she joins the jury at the murder trial of mob boss Louie Buffan o. Immediately, Annie is contacted by the Teacher, a Buffano lack ey, who makes it clear that her life, and that of her son Oliver, depend on her saying two words: Not Guilty. And so begins Green' s masterfully manipulative thriller, a gem of deft plotting given added lustre through its rich, if not wholly cohesive, character izations. The plot, jittering from one brutal, clever twist to th e next, will keep readers in a cold sweat. - Publisher's Weekly This novel is less a courtroom drama than a gripping psychologica l cat and mouse game. It should be in very high demand in public libraries. - Library Journal Editorial Reviews From Publishers Weekly Single mother and struggling sculptress Annie Laird makes a huge mistake when she joins the jury at the Westchester murder trial of mob boss Louie Buffano. Immediately, Annie is contacted by the Teacher, the sleek, Lao Tse-quoting eminence grise behind Buffano, who makes it clear that life, and that of her son Oliver , depend on her saying two words: Not guilty. And so begins Green 's (The Caveman's Valentine) masterfully manipulative thriller, a gem of deft plotting given added lustre through its rich, if not wholly cohesive, characterizations. Annie is an especially fine creation, victimized by her whipsawing emotions as she panics, re bels, crosses her conscience and plots to trap the Teacher. The T eacher is equally complex, an utterly logical madman whose portra it is flawed only by his unlikely romantic obsession with Annie ( Buffano alone is a throwaway character, too clearly modeled on Jo hn Gotti). The plot, jittering from one brutal, clever twist to t he next, will keep readers in a cold sweat. Green pushes buttons without remorse, always keeping his finger poised above the one m arked Oliver's death-and as it descends at book's end, the tensio n is nearly unbearable. 200,000 first printing; major ad/promo; L iterary Guild and Doubleday Main Selection; audio rights to Time Warner AudioBooks. Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc . --This text refers to an alternate paperback edition. About th e Author William Dufris has been nominated nine times as a finali st for the APA's prestigious Audie Award and has garnered twenty- one Earphones Awards from AudioFile magazine, which also named hi m one of the Best Voices at the End of the Century. He has also a cted on stage and television in the United States, the United Kin gdom, and Germany. --This text refers to an alternate paperback e dition. From Booklist Annie Laird and her adolescent son, Oliver , lead average lives. Annie is struggling financially and artisti cally, earning money as a data-entry clerk during the day so she can sculpt at night. Oliver enjoys computer games and has a crush on his mother's best friend. Both of them have fantasies of a be tter life, but not the life they are about to live. Immediately a fter Annie is accepted as a juror for a famous Mafia case, a myst erious, sexy businessman pays $12,000 for three of her works, wit h the promise of further purchases. And before the initial thrill of success wears off, Annie discovers that Vincent, aka the Teac her, doesn't need Annie's artwork. What he needs is an acquittal for his Mob-boss friend. And if he doesn't get it, well, he'll ki ll Oliver. A fair exchange. Watching Annie's every move, the Teac her comes to know what she will do even before she does it. In fa ct, he dictates through threats and pyschological games exactly w hat she will do. With her options disappearing before her eyes, A nnie tries frantically to protect her son and escape the clutches of a very disturbed individual. But she can't outsmart this guy- -she's got to kill him. A thrilling climax in Guatemala wraps eve rything up satisfactorily. The big publicity campaign will result in demand. Kathy Broderick --This text refers to an alternate pa perback edition. From Library Journal Annie Laird is a single mo ther, a part-time data entry clerk, an aspiring sculptor, and a j uror selected for the murder trial of a mob boss. When a suave, h andsome art broker buys some of her work and then invites her to dinner, she thinks her luck may be changing. Her supposed admirer , a Wall Street financier and Taoist nicknamed The Teacher, is ac tually the brains behind the jailed mobster. The Teacher is incre dibly charming; he's also a vicious killer. He promises Annie the continued safety of her son and the assurance of a lucrative art istic career in exchange for help in acquitting the mobster. But even if Annie agrees to the plan, she and her son may not be safe because the Teacher soon discovers he's in love with her. This n ovel by the author of The Caveman's Valentine (LJ 12/93) is less a courtroom drama than a gripping psychological cat-and-mouse gam e. It should be in very high demand in public libraries. Charles Michaud, Turner Free Lib., Randolph, Mass. Copyright 1994 Reed Bu siness Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate paper back edition. From AudioFile Annie Laird doesn't know the horror that awaits her when she's picked to serve on the jury of accuse d murderer and mobster Louie Buffano. The dual readership of Davi dovich and Heard functions perfectly. Heard takes on the gritty, tough voices of the mobsters while Davidovitch counter-balances w ith the innocent, terrified voice of Annie. I.Z. (c)AudioFile, Po rtland, Maine --This text refers to an alternate paperback editio n. ., Bantam Books, 1996, 3<

1996, ISBN: 9780553409222

Uk: Bantam, 1996. Book. Good. Mass Market Paperback. some shelf wear, some wear to edges etc, a good tight clean copy, you are a juror in a murder trial, they tell you your child will be … More...

Uk: Bantam, 1996. Book. Good. Mass Market Paperback. some shelf wear, some wear to edges etc, a good tight clean copy, you are a juror in a murder trial, they tell you your child will be safe, your career will flourish, your friends will stay alive.... all you have to do is say two words... not guilty., Bantam, 1996, 2.5<