Graceling, by Kristin Cashore
Katsa raised her eyebrows.
"I'm not going to wear a red dress," she said.
"It's the color of sunrise," Helda said.
"It's the color of blood," Katsa said.
Sighing, Helda carried the dress from the bathing room. "It would look stunning, My Lady," she called, "with your dark hair and your eyes."
Katsa yanked at one of the more stubborn knots in her hair. She spoke to the bubbles gathered on the surface of the water. "If there's anyone I wish to stun at dinner, I'll hit him in the face."
Friday, September 5, 2014
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It's geometrically progressive--all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.
That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It's geometrically progressive--all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.
Montana 1948, by Larry Watson
Who knows--perhaps any region's most dramatic, most sensational stories were not played out in the public view but were confined to small, private places. A doctor's office, say. A white frame house on a quiet street. So no matter what the historical documents might say, I feel free to augment them with whatever lurid or comical fantasy my imagination might concoct. And know that the truth might not be far off.
Who knows--perhaps any region's most dramatic, most sensational stories were not played out in the public view but were confined to small, private places. A doctor's office, say. A white frame house on a quiet street. So no matter what the historical documents might say, I feel free to augment them with whatever lurid or comical fantasy my imagination might concoct. And know that the truth might not be far off.
William Shakespeare's The Jedi Doth Return, by Ian Doescher
O shall it be? the strands of Fate do seem
To wind themselves about my neck as if
To strangle me and drag me down into
The measureless, uncharted depths of my
beloved Emperor's most perfect will.
Thus shall I drown within the dark side's pull--
A murky grave to bury Vader's soul.
The rudder of my conscience runs not straight,
Thus am I tow'd along toward my Fate.
O shall it be? the strands of Fate do seem
To wind themselves about my neck as if
To strangle me and drag me down into
The measureless, uncharted depths of my
beloved Emperor's most perfect will.
Thus shall I drown within the dark side's pull--
A murky grave to bury Vader's soul.
The rudder of my conscience runs not straight,
Thus am I tow'd along toward my Fate.
The Daughter of Time, by Josephine Tey
"The point is that that every single man who was there knows that the story is nonsense, and yet it has never been contradicted. It will never be overtaken now. It is a completely untrue story grown to legend while the men who knew it to be untrue looked on and said nothing."
"The point is that that every single man who was there knows that the story is nonsense, and yet it has never been contradicted. It will never be overtaken now. It is a completely untrue story grown to legend while the men who knew it to be untrue looked on and said nothing."
The Six Days, by Anna Carolyn McCormally
But she understood. Nia had been raised by her eccentric grandmother and had experience warding off questions about her own parents, who had left her and moved to Europe when she was very young. Nia had never known them and she was nearly as touchy about it as Jamie was about his own missing mother. Maybe having this in common was what had drawn Nia and Jamie together in the first place; they had met in school and taken to each other immediately, like two broken things that together almost made a whole.
But she understood. Nia had been raised by her eccentric grandmother and had experience warding off questions about her own parents, who had left her and moved to Europe when she was very young. Nia had never known them and she was nearly as touchy about it as Jamie was about his own missing mother. Maybe having this in common was what had drawn Nia and Jamie together in the first place; they had met in school and taken to each other immediately, like two broken things that together almost made a whole.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Ifemelu's reply came an hour later, a rush of heartbroken words. I am crying as I write this. Do you know how often I wished that she was my mother? She was the only adult--except for Aunty Uju--who treated me like a person with an opinion that mattered. You were so fortunate to be raised by her. She was everything I wanted to be. I am so sorry, Ceiling.
Ifemelu's reply came an hour later, a rush of heartbroken words. I am crying as I write this. Do you know how often I wished that she was my mother? She was the only adult--except for Aunty Uju--who treated me like a person with an opinion that mattered. You were so fortunate to be raised by her. She was everything I wanted to be. I am so sorry, Ceiling.
Out of my Mind, by Sharon Draper
Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes--each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands. Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...But only in my head. I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.
Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes--each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands. Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...But only in my head. I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.
Lockdown: Escape from Furnace, by Alexander Gordon Smith
The figure stalked like a bird, taking huge, sweeping steps forward, its legs lost in the tails of its leather coat. The body seemed to twitch and shake as it progressed, the head jerking upward every five or six steps, the gloved hands clawing at its own face as if trying to remove the ancient gas mask that hung there. There was something very wrong with the way it moved its limbs, but the heavy crimson light stopped me working out what it was.
The figure stalked like a bird, taking huge, sweeping steps forward, its legs lost in the tails of its leather coat. The body seemed to twitch and shake as it progressed, the head jerking upward every five or six steps, the gloved hands clawing at its own face as if trying to remove the ancient gas mask that hung there. There was something very wrong with the way it moved its limbs, but the heavy crimson light stopped me working out what it was.
Wives and Daughters, by Elizabeth Gaskell
"But--you must let me say it--I couldn't go on when I saw your distress. Has anything happened?--anything in which I can help you, I mean; for, of course, I've no right to make the inquiry, if it is any private sorrow, in which I can be of no use."
"But--you must let me say it--I couldn't go on when I saw your distress. Has anything happened?--anything in which I can help you, I mean; for, of course, I've no right to make the inquiry, if it is any private sorrow, in which I can be of no use."
Sunday, June 8, 2014
48-Hour Book Challenge Finish Line
For this year's 48-Hour Book Challenge, I managed:
- 22 hours of reading
- 3 hours, 20 minutes of listening to an audiobook
- 1 hour of blogging and social media
For a total of 26 hours and 20 minutes!
I read 7.5 books--2,253 pages!--plus 3 stories from my audiobook, Dark and Stormy Knights.
And now, I am so tired...
Earth Girl, by Janet Edwards
On the surface, none of that seemed to have the slightest connection to my unknown parents, but of course it did. Everything did. Everything in my life was because of them and their decision. Everything kept coming back to the shadowy figures who'd handed their ape kid over to Hospital Earth and walked away. If they hadn't done that, my entire life would have been different, and I wouldn't be telling a bunch of lies to an off-world class.
Esperanza Rising, by Pam Munoz Ryan
Esperanza smiled and reached over and gently pulled the yarn, unraveling the uneven stitches. Then she looked into Isabel's trusting eyes and said, "Do not ever be afraid to start over."
Esperanza smiled and reached over and gently pulled the yarn, unraveling the uneven stitches. Then she looked into Isabel's trusting eyes and said, "Do not ever be afraid to start over."
Saturday, June 7, 2014
The Fire Horse Girl, by Kay Honeyman
I was lost and trapped inside the story at the same time. I wanted my own story. Why didn't they believe that if I had left my home and traveled over the ocean, I needed to be here? Why couldn't I tell them how hard it was to live in China, how people broke off pieces of you to make you fit? Why didn't they want to know what it was like being a Fire Horse, full of a strength and power that only destroyed everything I touched?
I was lost and trapped inside the story at the same time. I wanted my own story. Why didn't they believe that if I had left my home and traveled over the ocean, I needed to be here? Why couldn't I tell them how hard it was to live in China, how people broke off pieces of you to make you fit? Why didn't they want to know what it was like being a Fire Horse, full of a strength and power that only destroyed everything I touched?
The Tropic of Serpents: A Memoir by Lady Trent, by Marie Brennan
Some years later--after stories of my exploits aboard the Basilisk began to filter back home, and the outrage over my Erigan deeds had faded somewhat--there were those in Scirland who romanticized me as some kind of champion of the Moulish, nobly aiding them with no desire for my own gain. This is entirely false, and I cannot decide if its falsity is too flattering to me, or perversely insulting, to myself and the Moulish both. One could imagine that I approached my research the way I did out of respect for our hosts and their traditions, but insofar as that is true, I cannot claim credit for it. It was the accidental consequence of my true reasoning, which was concerned with how to achieve the best results with a minimum of fuss.
Some years later--after stories of my exploits aboard the Basilisk began to filter back home, and the outrage over my Erigan deeds had faded somewhat--there were those in Scirland who romanticized me as some kind of champion of the Moulish, nobly aiding them with no desire for my own gain. This is entirely false, and I cannot decide if its falsity is too flattering to me, or perversely insulting, to myself and the Moulish both. One could imagine that I approached my research the way I did out of respect for our hosts and their traditions, but insofar as that is true, I cannot claim credit for it. It was the accidental consequence of my true reasoning, which was concerned with how to achieve the best results with a minimum of fuss.
Thirteenth Child, by Patricia C. Wrede
"This is the most important lesson you must learn about magic," Miss Ochiba went on. "There are many ways of seeing. Each has an element of truth, but none is the whole truth. If you limit yourselves to one way of seeing, one truth, you will limit your power. You will also place limits on the kinds of spells you can cast, as well as their strength. To be a good magician, you must see in many ways. You must be flexible. You must be willing to learn from different sources. And you must always remember that the truths you see are incomplete."
"This is the most important lesson you must learn about magic," Miss Ochiba went on. "There are many ways of seeing. Each has an element of truth, but none is the whole truth. If you limit yourselves to one way of seeing, one truth, you will limit your power. You will also place limits on the kinds of spells you can cast, as well as their strength. To be a good magician, you must see in many ways. You must be flexible. You must be willing to learn from different sources. And you must always remember that the truths you see are incomplete."
Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer
I parrot: Grandfather is not a bad person, Jonathan. everyone performs bad actions. I do. Father does. Even you do. A bad person is is someone who does not lament his bad actions. Grandfather is now dying because of his. I beseech you to forgive us, and to make us better than we are. Make us good.
Guilelessly,
Alexander
I parrot: Grandfather is not a bad person, Jonathan. everyone performs bad actions. I do. Father does. Even you do. A bad person is is someone who does not lament his bad actions. Grandfather is now dying because of his. I beseech you to forgive us, and to make us better than we are. Make us good.
Guilelessly,
Alexander
Friday, June 6, 2014
Bamboo People, by Mitali Perkins
The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green
Who am I to say that these things might not be forever? Who is Peter Van Houten to assert as fact the conjecture that our labor is temporary? All I know of heaven and all I know of death is in this park: an elegant universe in ceaseless motion, teeming with ruined ruins and screaming children.
Who am I to say that these things might not be forever? Who is Peter Van Houten to assert as fact the conjecture that our labor is temporary? All I know of heaven and all I know of death is in this park: an elegant universe in ceaseless motion, teeming with ruined ruins and screaming children.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
William Shakespeare's The Empire Striketh Back, by Ian Doescher
C-3PO:
My R2 small, pray be thou safe, good friend,
And take especial care of Master Luke.
Farewell, farewell! parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say farewell till thou hast left.
R2-D2:
[aside] "Till thou hast left"? No poet he, indeed.
Alas, it seems that romance is not one
of 3PO's six million forms of speech.
C-3PO:
My R2 small, pray be thou safe, good friend,
And take especial care of Master Luke.
Farewell, farewell! parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say farewell till thou hast left.
R2-D2:
[aside] "Till thou hast left"? No poet he, indeed.
Alas, it seems that romance is not one
of 3PO's six million forms of speech.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green
In that moment, the future--uncontainable by any Theorem mathematical or otherwise--stretched out before Colin: infinite and unknowable and beautiful. "Eureka," Colin said, and only in saying it did he realize he had just successfully whispered.
In that moment, the future--uncontainable by any Theorem mathematical or otherwise--stretched out before Colin: infinite and unknowable and beautiful. "Eureka," Colin said, and only in saying it did he realize he had just successfully whispered.
For Darkness Shows the Stars, by Diana Peterfreund
Elliot only had eyes for Kai. The could stand here forever, it seemed. Not moving, not blinking, not breathing, if that's what it took to plant this moment into reality. She didn't care that Olivia and Donovan were holding tight to each other for comfort, that Andromeda had run off to cry, that Horatio was chattering about plants as if he could somehow bring the level of discourse in the room back to the mundane, that the sun was shining or the seeds were sprouting or that the ship lay in the harbor waiting for Kai to sail away in it.
Elliot only had eyes for Kai. The could stand here forever, it seemed. Not moving, not blinking, not breathing, if that's what it took to plant this moment into reality. She didn't care that Olivia and Donovan were holding tight to each other for comfort, that Andromeda had run off to cry, that Horatio was chattering about plants as if he could somehow bring the level of discourse in the room back to the mundane, that the sun was shining or the seeds were sprouting or that the ship lay in the harbor waiting for Kai to sail away in it.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Shadow and Bone, by Leigh Bardugo
One thing did stand out to me: the word the philosophers used to describe people born without Grisha gifts, otkazat'sya, "the abandoned." It was another word for orphan.
One thing did stand out to me: the word the philosophers used to describe people born without Grisha gifts, otkazat'sya, "the abandoned." It was another word for orphan.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Tenth of December, by George Saunders
From across the woods, as if by common accord, birds left their trees and darted upward. I joined them, flew among them, they did not recognize me as something apart from them, and I was happy, so happy, because for the first time in years, and forever more, I had not killed, and never would.
*****
When they were first married, they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? And then they would--Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone's affection for you expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he'd ever--
From across the woods, as if by common accord, birds left their trees and darted upward. I joined them, flew among them, they did not recognize me as something apart from them, and I was happy, so happy, because for the first time in years, and forever more, I had not killed, and never would.
*****
When they were first married, they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? And then they would--Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone's affection for you expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he'd ever--
Thursday, March 20, 2014
A Natural History of Dragons: A Memoir by Lady Trent, by Marie Brennan
"The albino? Of course." Lord Hilford's prize, and in so many ways, the reason both Jacob and I were here.
"You remind me of that dragon."
Now I sat up and twisted to face him, torn between outrage and hilarity. "I'm a pale, sexless runt?!"
He fended me off with his hands, laughter getting the better of him. "Not in the least. But Mr. Swargin always said it was surprisingly robust. I think if Hilford hadn't captured it, the creature would have lived a fine life somewhere in these mountains." Jacob sobered, hands sliding down my arms to grip my hands. "I don't want you to pine away, Isabella. If it's my job, as your husband, to take care of you, then I will do so--by giving you the life you need."
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Impossible Knife of Memory, by Laurie Halse Anderson
When I was with Finn, the world spun properly on its axis, and gravity worked. At home, the planet tilted so far on its side it was hard to tell which way was up. Dad felt it, too. He shuffled like an old man, as if the carpet under his feet was really a slick sheet of black ice.
When I was with Finn, the world spun properly on its axis, and gravity worked. At home, the planet tilted so far on its side it was hard to tell which way was up. Dad felt it, too. He shuffled like an old man, as if the carpet under his feet was really a slick sheet of black ice.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
13 Reasons Why, by Jay Asher
You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person's life, you're not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can't be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part of a person's life, you're messing with their entire life.
Everything...affects everything.
You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person's life, you're not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can't be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part of a person's life, you're messing with their entire life.
Everything...affects everything.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Hypberbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened, by Allie Brosh
I don't like it when I can't control what reality is doing. Which is unfortunate because reality works independently of the things I want, and I have only a limited number of ways to influence it, none of which are guaranteed to work.
I still want to keep tabs on reality, though. Just in case it tries to do anything sneaky. It makes me feel like I'm contributing. The illusion of control makes the helplessness seem more palatable. And when that illusion is taken away, I panic.
Because, deep down, I know how pointless and helpless I am, and it scares me. I am an animal trapped in a horrifying, lawless environment, and I have no idea what it's going to do to me. It just DOES it to me.
I don't like it when I can't control what reality is doing. Which is unfortunate because reality works independently of the things I want, and I have only a limited number of ways to influence it, none of which are guaranteed to work.
I still want to keep tabs on reality, though. Just in case it tries to do anything sneaky. It makes me feel like I'm contributing. The illusion of control makes the helplessness seem more palatable. And when that illusion is taken away, I panic.
Because, deep down, I know how pointless and helpless I am, and it scares me. I am an animal trapped in a horrifying, lawless environment, and I have no idea what it's going to do to me. It just DOES it to me.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan
his eyes have this crazy hope and crazy longing and ridiculous giddiness in them, and even though i think it's completely stupid and even though i am never going to feel the things that he feels, at the very least i don't mind the idea of kissing him and seeing what happens. he is starting to blush from what he's said, and he's actually too shy to lean down to me, so i find myself lifting to kiss him, keeping my eyes open because i want to see his surprise and see his happiness because there's no way for me to see or even feel my own.
*****
"I just think that if you don't say the honest thing, sometimes the honest thing never becomes true, you know, and I--" she says, but then I hold up my finger, because I need to hear the thing she just said, and she talks too fast for me to keep up. I keep holding up my hand, thinking if you don't say the honest thing, it never becomes true.
his eyes have this crazy hope and crazy longing and ridiculous giddiness in them, and even though i think it's completely stupid and even though i am never going to feel the things that he feels, at the very least i don't mind the idea of kissing him and seeing what happens. he is starting to blush from what he's said, and he's actually too shy to lean down to me, so i find myself lifting to kiss him, keeping my eyes open because i want to see his surprise and see his happiness because there's no way for me to see or even feel my own.
*****
"I just think that if you don't say the honest thing, sometimes the honest thing never becomes true, you know, and I--" she says, but then I hold up my finger, because I need to hear the thing she just said, and she talks too fast for me to keep up. I keep holding up my hand, thinking if you don't say the honest thing, it never becomes true.
William Shakespeare's Star Wars: Verily, A New Hope, by Ian Doescher
R2-D2:
Around both humans and the droids I must
Be seen to make such errant beeps and squeaks
That they shall think me simple. Truly, though,
Although with sounds oblique I speak to them,
I clearly see how I shall play my part,
And how a vast rebellion shall succeed
By wit and wisdom of a simple droid.
R2-D2:
Around both humans and the droids I must
Be seen to make such errant beeps and squeaks
That they shall think me simple. Truly, though,
Although with sounds oblique I speak to them,
I clearly see how I shall play my part,
And how a vast rebellion shall succeed
By wit and wisdom of a simple droid.
Real Talk for Real Teachers, by Rafe Esquith
Constantly ask the kids: Why are we doing this? The answer must be: If I learn this skill my life will get better.
Constantly ask the kids: Why are we doing this? The answer must be: If I learn this skill my life will get better.
The Summer Prince, by Alaya Dawn Johnson
I'm an artist, after all, and I live for spectacle, for the construction of emotional states and the evocation of suppressed feelings. I can appreciate what Enki has done with his election--the way he subverted it while simultaneously triumphing within its rules. I don't envy Queen Oreste in her efforts to manage him during this year. The summer kings of moon years might not have any political clout, but I think grandes underestimate the power of desire.
I'm an artist, after all, and I live for spectacle, for the construction of emotional states and the evocation of suppressed feelings. I can appreciate what Enki has done with his election--the way he subverted it while simultaneously triumphing within its rules. I don't envy Queen Oreste in her efforts to manage him during this year. The summer kings of moon years might not have any political clout, but I think grandes underestimate the power of desire.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
"The Fair Singer" by Andrew Marvell
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe?
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe?
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