-Anna
Well, I've done the math, and I don't think I'll be able to read 60 books this year. That was my goal. I've read 39 to date, but 21 books in 3 months? That is daunting. My "second best" goal is to read 48, so I'll shoot for that, and anything over is just candy!
-Anna
I am an Avid Reader who is looking for an Awesome Average Length Book to read.
I love Young Adult Fiction.
I love Fantasy and Science Fiction (not the crazy weird stuff, more along Lewis, Tolkien, Rowling).
I love Jane Austen.
P.G. Wodehouse hits my funny bone, and L.M. Montgomery soothes my soul.
I am looking for a book that I can't put down, that I can take long baths with, that will make me laugh out loud and perhaps shed a few tears. Would prefer 400 pages or less.
Is there anyone out there who can set me up with an Awesome Average Length Book?
-Anna
The goal: to choose Catching Fire for book club.
The problem: it's the second book in a series, and I couldn't pick the 1st, Hunger Games, because I'd already read it.
The solution: begging, bribing, cajoling.
The result: a bend in the rules and Catching Fire is in!
(E, don't I still owe you a coffee?)
-Anna
It's the simple scenes that I enjoyed most in this book.
Three women snug inside, chatting about life in their little community.
Twin brothers' camaraderie in putting one over on their wives.
The golden apples that are the envy of the neighborhood.
The contagious nature of getting spooked.
Mischievous childhood pranks pulled on neighbors.
These everyday scenes set the backdrop for Nan's journey to take the path that is natural to her despite the social sanctions of the day. And while the ideology of education and discussion of woman's roles is interesting, it is these heartwarming scenes that breathe life into the story.
-Anna
Are...you...saying...I will have to wait a year to find out what happens to Peeta?
-Anna
Just a short excerpt to give you a taste....
Unless, as sometimes happens, the change is in the person's clothes. Since I'd always hated turtlenecks worn as undershirts and despised the men who wore them as the lowest kind of pseudo-sportsmen with, as they say, the lamest kind of collar, I started wearing hideous turtlenecks as undershirts the moment she left. Basically, I never took them off. No doubt this was magical thinking on my part (if I never took them off, nothing could ever take off on me); at any rate, these turtleneck-undershirts erupted in my life without my noticing until it was too late and I was under their curse. You could even say they'd inflicted themselves on me, so that now I hardly remembered the wind on my neck, which is the very feeling of freedom itself. But if that was the price I had to pay, I told myself, so be it. We brick ourselves up in prisons of our own devising...Read more...
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