Gør som tusindvis af andre bogelskere
Tilmeld dig nyhedsbrevet og få gode tilbud og inspiration til din næste læsning.
Ved tilmelding accepterer du vores persondatapolitik.Du kan altid afmelde dig igen.
For over a year the town of Twisting Creek, Kentucky has been obsessed with the enigmatic African immigrant accused of the brutal strangulation of a popular young Sunday School teacher. A self-described "ear-witness" describes overhearing an argument that ended with Lovemore Ngweyna shouting at Sarah Lester, "You're dead, woman." Sheriff Greer says, "Of course he's guilty. Do you think one man threatened to kill her, and lo and behold an hour later another man did?" The prosecution knows it's open-and-shut. "Women of any color don't like men of any color who strangle women--of any color." Thus does Assistant DA James Miller explain the prosecution's eagerness to seat African-American women on the jury. Miller adds, "At the time of the arrest, Lovemore was in possession of Sarah's missing jewelry." That adds up to premeditated murder, Miller says, and that means it's death for Lovemore.
Politico Cole Gibson says of Congressman Hatling: "Yes, well...I've heard of him." There could hardly be a more obscure member of Congress than the representative from Kentucky's Fifth District. When his name arises as a potential presidential candidate, no one is more surprised-or horrified-than Hatling himself, for Hatling lives a secret life. With the reappearance of his old college sweetheart, a French-Palestinian woman in Beirut, he has even more to hide. And if his ideas regarding the State of Israel become known, the result will not be a simple election defeat. It will be a battle for peace or war, for life or death. No Senator's Son is a story of families under strain, of failures and redemption in love, of our passage through history, and the passage of history through us. "I've heard of him," Cole Gibson says. He's about to hear a lot more.
How did I wind up in a Kentucky jail cell? I can't put all the blame on Angela Van Landingham. She had her own brand of wickedness-I'm not talking here about her frilly pink handcuffs and tantric love collars-but she's not the one who made me fat. I did that to myself. And how did being fat land me in jail? Because I didn't go to Mexico, as I'd planned. That's where I was headed when I fled from New York, only I made a little detour. If I'd stayed on course and made it to the border, everything would be different now. But I was fat, and I didn't go to Mexico. And now look where I am. Okay, so I robbed her restaurant. She deserved that. But I didn't kill her.
Tilmeld dig nyhedsbrevet og få gode tilbud og inspiration til din næste læsning.
Ved tilmelding accepterer du vores persondatapolitik.