β Scribed by David Day
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
Nevermore: A Book of Hours is a modern bestiary and a book of remembrance, a distillation of thirty years of research and meditation by author and poet David Day, an acknowledged authority on the extinction of species. In its conception and approach, Nevermore is unlike any other natural history. It is laden with a combined sense of wonder and savagery in its vivid descriptions of first encounters with, and last glimpses of, long forgotten species. It is beautifully illustrated by four distinguished wildlife artists, and unfolds as a requiem to vanished species.
π SIMILAR VOLUMES
As a divorced teacher with small children Ted has gotten more comfortable than hed like to be in a self-imposed closet. Will his lovers relaxed outlook and discovery of Teds true identity help Ted see the light? Read :
EDITORIAL REVIEW: \*And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
### From School Library Journal Gr 7 UpβCheerleader Isobel (another Bella?) becomes the reluctant partner of Goth Varen Nethers for an English assignment on Poe. Predictably, she falls hard for him, and he may not be a lost soul trapped between the real world and the dream world; psychologically ab
_And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow
When cheerleader Isobel Lanley is assigned to work with goth, Edgar Allen Poe fan Varen Nethers on an English project, she is swept into a horrific dream world that he has created in his mind.
EDITORIAL REVIEW: \*And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;