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What are you fuckers reading?

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Fata Morgana said:
God knows what the hell that was all about. ^

Started The Stopped Heart by Julie Myerson. Good ole fashioned ghost story with a horrendous chick-lit cover.
Click to expand...

tell me when you have read the ending

the reviews says the story was good but the ending sucked
 
https://www.google.com/imgres?imgur...KEwitgP-Ai97TAhWJ7IMKHXtiCSkQ_B0IpgEwCg#spf=1


wonderful book, not at all what I expected from cover and title - thought it was maybe some religious thing a family member suggested I read. it's charming, awful, sad, delightful, and crammed to the gills with imagination. Fata, you need to read this. you do.
 
lovetoread said:
tell me when you have read the ending

the reviews says the story was good but the ending sucked
Click to expand...
Fuck it, I hate that.
butters said:
https://www.google.com/imgres?imgur...KEwitgP-Ai97TAhWJ7IMKHXtiCSkQ_B0IpgEwCg#spf=1


wonderful book, not at all what I expected from cover and title - thought it was maybe some religious thing a family member suggested I read. it's charming, awful, sad, delightful, and crammed to the gills with imagination. Fata, you need to read this. you do.
Click to expand...

I certainly will, I loved Ove.
 
Currently catching up on .......



...... some Pete Hamill novels I somehow neglected reading. Finished "North River" last week and am involved in "Snow In August" now. One of the four or five writers I'd love to sit down with, share a couple of beers, and get to know.
 


" ...Alexandra told Rasputin about Nicky's plans and the starets bombarded him with telegrams. Rasputin was not acting out of megalomania: he was fighting for his life here. Drinking heavily, he had 'no doubt they'll kill me. They'll kill Mama and Papa too'*...


________________
* One of those who cooked for Rasputin during the Great War was a chef at Petrograd's luxurious Astoria Hotel who went on, after the Revolution, to cook for Lenin and Stalin. He was Spiridon Putin, grandfather of President Vladimir Putin."
​


-Simon Sebag Montefiore
The Romanovs: 1613-1918
New York, N.Y. 2016.​

​





Many, if not most, are familiar with the later Romanovs, their downfall and murder. Other than that and a few rulers such as Peter the Great and Catherine the Great who have been the subjects of recent well-known biographies, I knew virtually nothing about the history of the family and its origins and rise to power.

I've read (and own) one previous work by Simon Sebag Montefiore, Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar (2004) and, thus, knew him to be a thoroughly well-informed and erudite historian and writer.

Though it can be a bit tedious and ponderous in places, this book didn't disappoint. It's history on a grand scale with the usual murder, intrigue, mayhem and horror.


​
​
 
i started re reading the sinners on tour series

i freaking love these fellas

510MrU3AAoL.jpg
 
View from the Cheap Seats by Neil Gaiman, a collection of his nonfiction, mostly about books and movies and music and writers.
 


"...Yurovsky ordered two chairs brought in. Alexandra sat on one and Nicholas 'gently set his son in the second in the middle of the room,' then 'stood in front so that he shielded him,' Botkin stood behind the boy, while the steady Tatiana was directly behind her mother's chair with Anastasia behind her. Olga and Maria leaned on the wall behind. The room, thought Yurovsky, 'suddenly seemed very small.' Announcing he was off to fetch the truck, he left them. 'The Romanovs were completely calm. No suspicions.'

Outside, Ermakov told the driver to back the truck into the courtyard and gun the engines to drown out the noise of the shooting. As the truck revved, Yurovsky led the executioners into the room.

Yurovsky ordered the prisoners to stand. 'In view of the fact that your relatives continued their offensive against Soviet Russia,' he read from a scrap of paper, 'the Praesidium of the Ural Regional Soviet has decided to sentence you to death.'

'Lord oh my God,' Nicholas said. 'Oh my God, what is this?'

'Oh my God! No!' came a chorus of voices.

'So we're not to be taken anywhere?' asked Botkin.

'I can't understand you,' Nicholas told Yurovsky. 'Read it again please.' Yurovsky read it again. 'What? What?' stuttered Nicholas.

'This!' Yurovsky drew his pistol and fired it directly into Nicholas's chest. All ten of the killers aimed at the ex-tsar, firing repeatedly into his chest which exploded in blood. 'I shot Nicholas and everyone else shot him too.' Quivering with each shot, with vacant eyes, 'Nicholas lurched forward and toppled to the floor.' The barrage hit Botkin and the servants who collapsed, but scarcely anyone had fired at the rest of the victims who, frozen with terror, were just screaming. It was pandemonium. Yurovsky shouted orders, but the shooting was 'increasingly disorderly,' the crack of gunfire so deafening, the smoke and dust so thick, that no one could see or hear anything. 'Bullets were flying around the room.' One of the shooters was wounded in the hand. 'A bullet from one of the squad behind me flew past my head,' recalled Yurovsky, while those in front were burned.

Alexandra was crossing herself. She had always believed that she and Nicky would be, as she wrote long before, when they were newlyweds, 'united, bound for life and when life is ended, we meet again in the other world to remain together for all eternity.' As her hand was raised, Ermakov fired his Mauser point-blank at her head which shattered in brain and blood. Maria ran for the double doors at the back so Ermakov drawing a Nagant from his belt fired at her, hitting her in the thigh, but the smoke and clouds of plaster were so dense that Yurovsky ordered a halt and opened the door to let the shooters, coughing and spluttering, rest as they listened to 'moans, screams and low sobs' from within. Only Nicholas and Alexandra, and two of the servants, were dead. Leading the assassins back into the room, Yurovsky found Botkin getting up and, placing his Mauser against the doctor's head, he pulled the trigger. Spotting Alexi still frozen in his chair, white face splattered with his father's blood, Yurovsky and his deputy Nikulin fired repeatedly into the thirteen-year-old, who fell but lay moaning on the ground until the commandant called for Ermakov, who drew his bayonet.

As Ermakov stabbed frenziedly, blood squirting in an arc, poor Alexi was still alive, protected by his diamond-armoured shirt, until Yurokovsky, drawing his Colt, shoved Ermakov out of the way and shot the boy in the head. Olga, Tatiana and Anastasia was still untouched, huddled together screaming. 'We set about finishing them off.' As Yurokovsky and Ermakov stepped over the bodies towards them, they scrambled, crouched and covered their heads. Yurokovsky shot Tatiana in the back of the head, spattering Olga in a 'shower of blood and brains'; next the blood-drenched Ermakov kicked her down and shot her in the jaw. But Maria, wounded in the leg, and Anastasia were still alive, crying out for help. Ermakov wheeled round to stab Maria in the chest, but again 'the bayonet wouldn't pierce her bodice.' He shot her. Anastasia was the last of the family moving. Slashing his bayonet through the air, Ermakov cornered her but, stabbing manically against her diamond-armoured bodice, he missed and hit the wall. She was 'screaming and fighting' until he drew another pistol and shot her in the head. Now berserk with intoxicated bloodlust, Ermakov spun back to Nicholas and Alexandra, wildly stabbing first one then the other so hard that his bayonet cracked bones and pinned them to the floorboards...
​


-Simon Sebag Montefiore
The Romanovs: 1613-1918
New York, N.Y. 2016.​

​





Many, if not most, are familiar with the later Romanovs, their downfall and murder. Other than that and a few rulers such as Peter the Great and Catherine the Great who have been the subjects of recent well-known biographies, I knew virtually nothing about the history of the family and its origins and rise to power.

I've read (and own) one previous work by Simon Sebag Montefiore, Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar (2004) and, thus, knew him to be a thoroughly well-informed and erudite historian and writer.

Though it can be a bit tedious and ponderous in places, this book didn't disappoint. It's history on a grand scale with the usual murder, intrigue, mayhem and horror.


​
​
 
I'm still plugging away at The Life Of Elizabeth I. I'm on 306 of 488.
 
Just starting into Gaiman's Norse Mythology, and it is absolutely splendid so far. The man is a fine, fine scribe.
 
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