A Hunting We Will Go

A Hunting We Will Go

3.1 8
by Hal Friedman
     
 

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Oh, a-hunting we will go,

A-hunting we will go;

We'll catch a fox and put him in a box,

And then we'll let him go!

So begins this rollicking folk song that has delighted generations of children and inspired them to make up their own verses. John Langstaff has selected some of the most popular stanzas, both old and new, that are sure to bring out smiles

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Overview

Oh, a-hunting we will go,

A-hunting we will go;

We'll catch a fox and put him in a box,

And then we'll let him go!

So begins this rollicking folk song that has delighted generations of children and inspired them to make up their own verses. John Langstaff has selected some of the most popular stanzas, both old and new, that are sure to bring out smiles and giggles. Nancy Winslow Parker's pictures join in the fun as a band of intrepid children hunt for the fox, a skunk, and even a brontosaurus with wildly silly results.

Piano and guitar accompaniment are provided so grown-ups can sing along, too. The playful mood of the words, music, and pictures is infectious -- you may even decide to add new verses of your own!

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Mixing and matching devices from other thrillers, this debut about a pair of star-stalking killers never quite gets off the ground. News anchor and former English professor Katlyn Rome is already facing professional and personal tensions (especially the resentment of her husband, a music producer, over her new career) when she delivers an impromptu editorial on the six-o'clock news questioning the LAPD's handling of a series of rapes and murders committed by a celebrity-obsessed killer nicknamed Starman, whose targets range from porn stars to rock musicians. While Katlyn's boss is critical of her unprofessional rashness, he decides to capitalize on the publicity by having Katlyn cover the Starman story. Needless to say, Katlyn soon attracts the notice of Starman and his mysterious partner, Bo, who stalk her cat-and-mouse fashion, stealing photograph albums from her home, leaving threatening messages and even breaking into a hospital lab to destroy her fertilized egg. Although Friedman has a gift for capturing L.A.'s obsession with publicity, the assorted pathologies he assigns to his pair of killers are old hat, and we never believe in Katlyn's peril enough to care about her story. (Apr.)
Kirkus Reviews
Los Angeles newswoman rises above a mercenary station manager and the incompetence of the LAPD to nab a sadistic killer with a taste for beautiful female celebrities. Arthur Combs, at the urging of "Bo," whose disembodied voice somehow whispers instructions, gets naked, rubs down with undiluted civet, stalks pretty women and sexually savages them. When Katlyn Rome makes an on-the-air speech about the case, she angers Chief of Detectives Stryker and, of course, Arthur and the mysterious Bo. It's no surprise, then, that she becomes their next target, which tickles her venal boss, upsets her struggling musician husband Matthew, and diverts the spotlight from the ambitious Stryker. Detective Dan Jarrett—department bad-boy—gets the assignment when Kate, after a staged broadcast aimed at drawing out the killer, has to go into hiding. Matthew goes missing, their in vitro embryo gets stolen from the hospital lab, and Arthur sets fire to the woods around Kate's not-so-safe safe house—forcing her out and into his clutches. But Jarrett catches Arthur just as he's about to do awful things to Kate, after which Jarrett and Kate start making eyes at each other (a sure sign that poor Matthew is done for). After a woman is arrested for the hospital lab break-in and the vile Arthur commits suicide, Stryker calls the case solved. Kate and Jarrett disagree, as does Matthew, who's now being held captive by Bo—in the cottage right next door. When Kate realizes where Matthew is, she eludes her two police guards, grabs her pistol, and rushes to the rescue. Jarrett follows bravely, sans backup ("the situation was too delicate for. . . even the well-trained SWAT teams"). Advertisingexecutive Friedman (a paperback, The Crib, 1979) lacks any trace of flair for the melodramatic. The result is a novel peopled with stock characters and rife with plot devices that are often both unbelievable and illogical at once.

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780062012791
Publisher:
HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
09/28/2010
Sold by:
HARPERCOLLINS
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
448
Sales rank:
390,202
File size:
2 MB

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Read an Excerpt


Bel Air, California
Monday, May 11

Arthur Combs entered the heavily wooded area at precisely ten o'clock.A proficient predator, he'd chosen a moonless night, the perfect cover.When he was done there would be no evidence of his passing.
After a short walk he arrived at the spot he'd chosen earlier under thetallest trees and put down his small black gym bag. In a few deft moveshe stripped off all his clothing. The night air caressed his freshly shavenbody, every part tingling in the breeze.
With practiced hands he retrieved a small glass bottle from the gym bag.The vial contained three ounces of undiluted civet, a musklike secretionfrom cats. The oil, a natural aphrodisiac, masked his scent and signaledthe presence of a dangerous predator to any creature nearby--except forhumans.
He applied a thin coat to his skin and massaged it in. The ripe odor infusedhim with warmth and made him feel eternal. When he was finished he stuffedthe vial and clothes into the bag and placed it under a pile of brush. Thenhe sprang from the ground and became part of the canopy.
As he climbed, Arthur felt a connection to all hunters since the beginningof time. Once in the treetops he savored the seductive, ocean-scented windand the prickly feel of bark under his bare feet. His senses reeled fromthe intoxicating perfume of bougainvillea and laurel that rose from theground. The natural world was always his greatest source of strength. Andwith each hunt he reveled more in the pleasure and confidence it gave him.
He was stronger now in his thirty-ninth year than he had ever been, evenmore than when, for two years, he purged his body of chemicals and trainedin counter-insurgency withthe military. He had learned the drills welland drawn on the training since--perfected it, until he had mastered thescience of "zero presence." He had made his body harder sincethen, until it was as sturdy as bronze, and he was able to stand for hoursin the trees--if he had to. This night's station had been selected for itscomplete view of the walled compound below, including a cabana with glassdoors that opened onto a patio and pool.
His instructions from Bo had been precise, and he would execute them tothe letter. Bo had not told him why this one had been singled out from themany, or why this time he was not to bring her back for a more unhurrieddiscipline, as he had been instructed before on occasion. But he never questionedBo--any more than leaves questioned the wind.
Invisible in the tallest bough, Arthur closed his eyes. He felt that hecould fly. He was omnipotent. He reveled in the feeling and waited serenely,unmoving.
Still lost in his euphoria, he could nevertheless tell when something inthe air changed. He smelled her scent before she stepped out into view onthe patio. Raised his head. Inhaled deeply. Anne Marie Warren was alone,as he knew she would be, protected only by the thin beam of a security systemwhich would soon be rendered useless by a single, catlike leap of brilliance.For a long while, he watched her from his high station. His vision was acutein the dark. He studied the way her body moved, every nuance of her motion,as she began to unfasten her robe and move unaware to the edge of the poolto test the water with her toes.
When she let the robe fall from her shoulders, her unexpected nudity senta warm ripple of pleasure through his loins. He became as hard as granite.He had anticipated a minimal bathing costume, like the abbreviated whitehalter and small triangle of fabric she wore the last time he had observedher. He remembered how it had become transparent when wet, how the pointsof her breasts strained to push through.
But nothing had prepared him for the perfection of her completely exposedbody. In the muted lights that rimmed the pool, her skin was luminescent.Shining up on her from below, the lights accentuated the sturdiness of herbreasts, which stood high and away from her torso, the stiff dark nipplescrowning their aureoles. Something pretty for Bo, he thought.
As he watched, she arched backward and her hips flared provocatively, funnelinghis vision to the thick pelt that wove her thighs together. Her scent wasintoxicating. He felt his heart race, his hands sweat.
Arthur closed his eyes, steeling himself against the impulse to begin.
Savor the hunt. The hunt is everything.
No, not everything.
He felt cradled by the nightscape that surrounded him. The ancient forestwas dense, separating Anne Marie's house from the nearest one by severalacres. A curious stillness had seized the woods. Sensing the cat hunter,other creatures went silent and would remain so until they were certainthe unpredictable predator had moved on.
Satisfied that the two of them were alone, Arthur slipped along a sturdybough with perfect balance, his arms at his sides. There were only a fewmore tall trees between him and the backyard, and he glided through themeffortlessly. Only once did a slight snapping of an unseen branch causeher to look up. But by the time she did, she saw nothing.
When he was past the wall Arthur crouched in the large tree and looked down.As he watched her almost directly below him, Anne Marie lowered herselfinto the pool and purred luxuriously. Arthur tried to imagine her face themoment she realized she wasn't alone, the look of terror when she wouldsee his tall, sleek, naked body next to hers. The sound her throat wouldmake.

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Meet the Author

Masterful author of A Hunting We Will Go, Hal Friedman delivers a dizzying, on-and-over-the-edge thriller about the heights of anger, the depths of violence, and the perilous trail of justice.

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A-Hunting We Will Go 2.8 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 5 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One of my favorite books.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book was definitely one of the best suspense books I have read (and I have read many). It gave me goosebumps while reading it and I was still sleeping with a night light on several days after finishing it!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
U CANT HABE TIGERKIT I RP HER. Walks off with tigerkit in her mouth I RP JER IS THAT CLEAR
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Left
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Tracks his prey, a.k.a. nettle