The street sparrows

By Rose Ayers

Book Overview

Book by Ayers, Rose This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0345284143
• ISBN13: 9780345284143
• Release Date: July 1979
• Publisher: Ballantine Books
• Weight: 0.55 lbs.

Customer Reviews

The Street Sparrows

I was very impressed with the quality of this book. I never ordered something used before and was a little leary, but it was in near perfect condition. It also came shortly after the order was placed.

Beautiful, Charming, Entrancing: The Street Sparrows

I bumped into this book in my high school library and have loved it ever scince. The characters are as varied as they come; from our heroine Meg who is an inocent but maturing young woman to her beloved "brother in waifhood" Jaime who was raised on the streets of London. Also included is Angle who is so called "because e' aint one" and "Laird Charles", Megs beloved; and a finer man I don't think ever realy existed. Of course there is Gordie, the seemingly unstopable intelegent criminal in whos claws Meg and Jamie find themselvs. The book is told from the standpoint of Meg during her first 17 and 1/2 years and, as you would hope, the author (Rose Ayers) truly captures the innocent wanderings and notions of a young inquisitive mind. I have read this book to my mother (of 53, i hope she doesnt know i told!) and some of my young friends around 13 to 15 and EVERYONE Beged to borrow the book! My mother was entranced by the beauty and charm of the language style Rose Ayers uses and it was more fun to read it out loud that i would have ever imagined. Here is a small excerpt: "at once I was conscious of being the centre of a circumference of observation. Wherever I succeeded in piercing the general gloom, there appeared the outline of a man in ragged coat, torn vest, or ripped shirt, dirty cap askew, pipe or mug in hand, and alert animal-like eyes inspecting me. Without the massive hulk of Mr. William Higginbottom at my side, I might have found the situation alarming. As it was, I was rather intrigued: I had never attracted so much attention before...... He was still examining me. So was the other man. So was another who had sauntered up to the end of the table. So were two more, farther down our table. So, I felt, was every man in the room, far too many of them were decidedly large, and all of them seemed to be coming closer. this was too much of a good thing, and i felt my cheeks getting hot and my backbone quivery. At last Robbie spoke out of the depths of his consideration. "Bloody small, ain't she, Will?" This was too much. Wasn't I taller than that pudgy little shrimp of a betty, and she a good year older than I? Was I ALWAYS to be called too small? "I am NOT bloody small," I exclaimed. "It's just that you're all bloody big." The whoops and shouts of laughter that resulted left me greatly insulted. What were they all howling about? I'D said nothing funny, only the exact truth, and as for the word "bloody," which admittedly was not current at Miss Godfrey's (though I had once or twice heart it uttered on the pavement in front of the shops where I sometimes had gone with Em), THEY had used it first and therefore hadn't the right to be so particular. I was blushing hotly, though in that redolent gloom I don't suppose anyone noticed, and my bottom lip was beginning to tremble when one rough voice boomed out of the chaos. "Yer the right kind of girr-el, yer are, an' I drinks to yer, I does." .... This is the most entrancing