Book Details
Title: Summer of the Red Wolf
Author: Morris West
Illustrator: N/A
Publisher: Heinemann
Year: 1971
Impression/Edition: N/A
Cover: Hardcover with Dust Jacket
Pages: 278
Dimensions: L22 xW14.5cm x D2.5cm
Weight: 500g
ISBN: 434 85911 7
Battle Scars:
Outside:
Dust Jacket is of acceptable condition. It is intact, however has clear wear around edges, ends and corners, with tears and rubbing to edges. Also some creases and scuffing to the cover. The laminate on the cover has cracked on one spot on the spine. The hardcover itself is of blue boards and has been preserved. There is some shelf wear to edges and ends of spine, some wear to corners and a spot of marks on the rear. Crushing to spine end. Gold embossing on the spine is intact.
Inside:
Binding is firm and intact. There is an ink inscribed name to the top right of the front-end page. Apart from occasional marks and mild tanning, pages are in good shape.
Don't forget to check the photos below for a visual and make sure you are happy prior to purchase. Happy to answer questions if there is information missing.
Book Content:
Blurb -
"This is a story of two men and two women in the Outer Hebrides, the far islands where the land falls into the sea and there is nothing between the last crags and the coast of America.
At first glance it is a very simple story of love, rivalry, brotherhood and epic violence. At second glance it is something else, an evocation in the form of a novel of the flight of modern man from a civilisation which has grown too complex for his frail spirit. This is what the author himself said of it when he delivered the manuscript:
' I was dead, barren, caught in the grip of that destructive ennui which the Greeks called 'accidie'. I wanted to retreat into the womb of time, to a possibly unattainable simplicity, so I took ship to the Outer Hebrides. It was a strange, solitary journey into my own Celtic past, a dangerous journey because I might lose myself in a strangeness for which I was not prepared. Then, by some magic of the place and the people, I was preserved. I went through a saving and regenerative experience which is expressed in symbol and in fiction in this book. Unlike any other book I have ever written, it is far removed from the arguments with which I have been involved too long and too often. It is a recall of the simple and primitive adventure of being alive and battling, not with an impersonal civilisation, but with the elements and with elemental man.' "
Book Details
Title: Summer of the Red Wolf
Author: Morris West
Illustrator: N/A
Publisher: Heinemann
Year: 1971
Impression/Edition: N/A
Cover: Hardcover with Dust Jacket
Pages: 278
Dimensions: L22 xW14.5cm x D2.5cm
Weight: 500g
ISBN: 434 85911 7
Battle Scars:
Outside:
Dust Jacket is of acceptable condition. It is intact, however has clear wear around edges, ends and corners, with tears and rubbing to edges. Also some creases and scuffing to the cover. The laminate on the cover has cracked on one spot on the spine. The hardcover itself is of blue boards and has been preserved. There is some shelf wear to edges and ends of spine, some wear to corners and a spot of marks on the rear. Crushing to spine end. Gold embossing on the spine is intact.
Inside:
Binding is firm and intact. There is an ink inscribed name to the top right of the front-end page. Apart from occasional marks and mild tanning, pages are in good shape.
Don't forget to check the photos below for a visual and make sure you are happy prior to purchase. Happy to answer questions if there is information missing.
Book Content:
Blurb -
"This is a story of two men and two women in the Outer Hebrides, the far islands where the land falls into the sea and there is nothing between the last crags and the coast of America.
At first glance it is a very simple story of love, rivalry, brotherhood and epic violence. At second glance it is something else, an evocation in the form of a novel of the flight of modern man from a civilisation which has grown too complex for his frail spirit. This is what the author himself said of it when he delivered the manuscript:
' I was dead, barren, caught in the grip of that destructive ennui which the Greeks called 'accidie'. I wanted to retreat into the womb of time, to a possibly unattainable simplicity, so I took ship to the Outer Hebrides. It was a strange, solitary journey into my own Celtic past, a dangerous journey because I might lose myself in a strangeness for which I was not prepared. Then, by some magic of the place and the people, I was preserved. I went through a saving and regenerative experience which is expressed in symbol and in fiction in this book. Unlike any other book I have ever written, it is far removed from the arguments with which I have been involved too long and too often. It is a recall of the simple and primitive adventure of being alive and battling, not with an impersonal civilisation, but with the elements and with elemental man.' "
