9780735231528-0735231524-The Conference of the Birds (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children)

The Conference of the Birds (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children)

ISBN-13: 9780735231528
ISBN-10: 0735231524
Author: Ransom Riggs
Publication date: 2021
Publisher: Penguin Books
Format: Paperback 336 pages
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ISBN-13: 9780735231528
ISBN-10: 0735231524
Author: Ransom Riggs
Publication date: 2021
Publisher: Penguin Books
Format: Paperback 336 pages

Summary

The Conference of the Birds (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children) (ISBN-13: 9780735231528 and ISBN-10: 0735231524), written by authors Ransom Riggs, was published by Penguin Books in 2021. With an overall rating of 4.1 stars, it's a notable title among other books. You can easily purchase or rent The Conference of the Birds (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children) (Paperback) from BooksRun, along with many other new and used books and textbooks. And, if you're looking to sell your copy, our current buyback offer is $0.45.

Description

Product Description
With enemies behind him and the unknown ahead, Jacob Portman’s story continues as he takes a brave leap forward into The Conference of the Birds, the fifth novel in the #1 bestselling Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children series by Ransom Riggs.
With his dying words, H—Jacob Portman’s final connection to his grandfather Abe’s secret life entrusts Jacob with a mission: Deliver newly con­tacted peculiar Noor Pradesh to an operative known only as V. Noor is being hunted. She is the subject of an ancient prophecy, one that foretells a looming apocalypse. Save Noor—Save the future of all peculiardom.
With only a few bewildering clues to follow, Jacob must figure out how to find V, the most enigmatic, and most powerful, of Abe’s former associates. But V is in hiding and she never, ever, wants to be found.
Review
“The pulse-pounding fifth volume of the Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children series continues storylines introduced in
Map of Days…. Lost friends are found, boundaries tested, and more surprising history is revealed.
After this installment’s dramatic ending, readers can only hope the next one isn’t long in coming.” —
Booklist
Praise for the #1 bestselling Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children series:
A
New York Times Bestseller
A
USA Today Bestseller
A
Wall Street Journal Bestseller
“Boy, can Ransom Riggs tell a story. If he’d been stuck in rainy 1818 Switzerland with Lord Byron, and Mary and Percy Shelley and taken up Byron’s challenge to write a ghost story,
Miss Peregrine would have given
Frankenstein a run for its money.” —NPR.org
“A visually rich literary experience.” —
New York Times Book Review
“[A] chilling, wondrous novel.” —
People
“[A] thrilling, Tim Burton–esque tale with haunting photographs.” —
USA Today
“Readers searching for the next Harry Potter may want to visit Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children.” —CNN
“X-Men: First Class-meets-time-travel story line, David Lynchian imagery, and rich eerie detail.” —
Entertainment Weekly
“A tense, moving, and wondrously strange first novel. The photographs and text work together brilliantly to create an unforgettable story.” —John Green, #1
New York Times bestselling author of
Turtles All the Way Down and
The Fault in Our Stars
About the Author
Ransom Riggs is the #1
New York Times bestselling author of the Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children novels. Riggs was born on a farm in Maryland and grew up in southern Florida. He studied literature at Kenyon College and film at the University of Southern California. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, bestselling author Tahereh Mafi, and their family.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter OneDeep in the green-­glowing bowels of a Chinatown seafood market, down a dead-­end hallway lined with crab tanks, we crouched in a puddle of dark the light-­eater had made, watched over by a thousand alien eyes. Leo’s men were close, and they were angry. We heard shouts and crashes as they tore apart the market, looking for us. “Please,” I heard an old woman crying, “I didn’t see anybody . . .”
We had realized too late that the hallway had no exit, and now we were trapped here, squatting by a drain in a narrow gap between stacks of doomed crustaceans, their tanks piled ten high in leaning towers that scraped the ceiling. Between the bangs and shouts, beneath our sharp, panicked breathing, was the unceasing rhythm of crab claws tapping glass, an orchestra of broken typewriters burrowing into my skull.
At least it would mask the sound of our breathing. Maybe that would be enough, if Noor’s unnatural dark held and if the men whose heavy steps were growing louder didn’t look too closely at the wriggling void with unsteady edges; an omission in the air, a wrongness unmissable if your eyes came to rest on it. Noor had shaped it by dragging her hand through the air around us, dark spreading in its wake as

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