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More Tales
Paperback
Series: Tales, Book 2
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ISBN13: 9798839837447
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jul 7 2022
Pages: 316
Weight: 0.81
Height: 0.66 Width: 5.50 Depth: 8.50
Language: English
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jul 7 2022
Pages: 316
Weight: 0.81
Height: 0.66 Width: 5.50 Depth: 8.50
Language: English
The long awaited follow up to Many Tales. Lazy Sunday afternoon reading, the second book following Many Tales.
A journey of ordinary people in unusual occupations and their families and friends sharing their lives. Leana Taylor has a way with words that makes it exciting to read. In this book she takes you on a journey through the lives of a Tobacconist, a Night Watchman, a Shoemaker and a Jeweler. Once you get past the first sentence in the first story you cannot put the book down. 1970. My father was called JJ; but my birth name is Hendrik van Rooyen. I also stumbled upon the convenient mannerism of inserting jitte, jitte (loosely translated as oh my) in my sentences when I found a word I was to utter, missing from my vocabulary. I picked it up from my father, that's why he was called JJ. I would recall the word, of course, but often it was too late to insert it in its proper place as the moment has passed. I was followed by three sisters, yes, they were named: Christo, Ben and baby Louise. I was to be the sixth baby delivered in the Sasolburg Hospital; it was about the only significance in my life worth noting. Our parents were Elsa and Louis, and my father was a night watchman, as was I...
A journey of ordinary people in unusual occupations and their families and friends sharing their lives. Leana Taylor has a way with words that makes it exciting to read. In this book she takes you on a journey through the lives of a Tobacconist, a Night Watchman, a Shoemaker and a Jeweler. Once you get past the first sentence in the first story you cannot put the book down. 1970. My father was called JJ; but my birth name is Hendrik van Rooyen. I also stumbled upon the convenient mannerism of inserting jitte, jitte (loosely translated as oh my) in my sentences when I found a word I was to utter, missing from my vocabulary. I picked it up from my father, that's why he was called JJ. I would recall the word, of course, but often it was too late to insert it in its proper place as the moment has passed. I was followed by three sisters, yes, they were named: Christo, Ben and baby Louise. I was to be the sixth baby delivered in the Sasolburg Hospital; it was about the only significance in my life worth noting. Our parents were Elsa and Louis, and my father was a night watchman, as was I...
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