Grab the Nearest Book...

"It was the gossip of geese round a vulture." Les Miserables-Victor Hugo
 
"In Lorien are his gardens in the land of the Valar, and they are the fairest of all places in the world, filled with many spirits."

The Silmarillion
Valaquenta - Of the Valar
J.R.R. Tolkien
 
"In Lorien are his gardens in the land of the Valar, and they are the fairest of all places in the world, filled with many spirits."

The Silmarillion
Valaquenta - Of the Valar
J.R.R. Tolkien

Ahh that book is among my favourites!
 
"How may we know thee?", the second knight inquired.


The diamond throne - David Eddings
 
Feel free to post a paragraph or more from the book you've grabbed. I really enjoy reading what you think/thought about your book, magazine, etc. as well.

Most of all, thanks for contributing to my reading list over the past year. It's nice to know there are other bookies around. :heart:
 
One of them saw Georgette and said: "I do declare. There is an actual harlot. I'm going to dance with her Lett. You watch me." The tall dark one called Lett said: "Don't you be rash"

10th sentence in bold - From Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises.

This is an amazingly fresh book, especially considering that it was written in 1926, just after WWI. The characters are real people, not prim and proper sorts. I especially like the themes that they are grappling with. One is a senseless war where tens of thousands die and nothing is gained. Another is that the so called civilized rules just don't seem to apply and people challenge everything that they think they know. Not really unlike today ...
 
'Are there any other significant differences I should know about?'
'Some of the customs are different - liturgical variations primarily. I
doubt that you'll be asked to conduct any services, so that shouldn't cause
any problems.'
'It's probably just as well. I heard you deliver a sermon
once. ' Sparhawk smiled.
'We serve in different ways, Sarathi. Our Holy
Mother didn't hire me to preach to people.'

Extract from page 58
Domes of fire - David Eddings
 
Love almost anything by David Eddings...

My contribution...the beginning book of a new series by Allison Brennan:

The gates of hell were open and Moira was too late.

The series~The Seven Deadly Sins
The book? Original Sin
 
Hey Luna. Good to see you up and about :)

Just for you another extract then

'is this going to hurt?' he asked.
'It won't hurt me a bit,' she assured
him, removing her sandals. 'Try to relax.'
Then she started to walk on him.
There were crackling noises and loud pops. There were also gasps and cries
of pain as Kalten writhed under her feet. She finally paused, thoughtfully
probing at a stubborn spot between his shoulder blades with her toes. Then
she rose up on her toes and came down quite firmly. Kalten's shriek was
strangled as his breath whooshed out, and the noise that came from his back was very loud, much like the sound which might come from a tree trunk being snapped in two.

Page 65 Domes of Fire by David Eddings
That is how you treat a bad back from sleeping in a hammock :D
 
Attacking through a rain of boulders is' always sort of distracting. Getting hit on the head with a fifty pound rock always seems to break a man's concentration for some reason.

Page 121 Domes of Fire - David Eddings

Yes I know I'm reading slowly, but it is A4 pages and of course I'm at work so it takes longer :D
 
I often read more than one book at a time, but I have this thing I do when I'm reading something I am really enjoying and don't want to end - I slow wayyyyyyyy down and try to pick it up only once a day.

Nothing wrong with reading slowly - or savoring what you're reading either. I also like sharing thoughts about a current read with a friend (which can be dangerous if I am further ahead.) I don't want spoilers.

Oh, and I should say, I love Eddings. Read them all. :D
 
"Damn their fun!" he shouted and ran out of the pub furiously waving a nearly empty beer glass.

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy....The Trilogy of Four
 
Up went the ship, up, up, up, paused and then plunged down with a sidelong slither. Adam caught at his glass and saved it. Then shut his eyes.
'Now I'll tell you a drawing-room one,' said the journalist. Behind them a game of cards was in progress among the commercial gents. At first they had rather a jolly time about it, saying, 'What ho, she bumps', or 'Steady, the Buffs', when the cards and glasses and ash-tray were thrown on to the floor, but in the last ten minutes they were growing notably quieter. It was rather a nasty kind of hush.
' ... And forty aces and two-fifty for the rubber. Shall we cut again or stay as we are?'
'How about knocking off for a bit? Makes me tired - table moving about all the time.'
'Why, Arthur, you ain't feeling ill, surely?'
'Course I ain't feeling ill, only tired.'
'Well, of course, if Arthur's feeling ill ... '
'Who'd have thought of old Arthur feeling ill?'
'I ain't feeling ill, I tell you. Just tired. But if you boys want to go on I'm not the one to spoil a game.'
'Good old Arthur. 'Course he ain't feeling ill. Look out for the
cards, Bill, up she goes again.'
'What about one all round? Same again?' 'Same again.'
'Good luck, Arthur.'
'Good luck.'
'Here's fun.'
'Down she goes.'
'Whose deal? You dealt last, didn't you, Mr Henderson?'
'Yes, Arthur's deal.'
'Your deal, Arthur. Cheer up, old scout.'
'Don't you go doing that. It isn't right to hit a chap on the back like that.'
'Look out with the cards, Arthur.'
'Well, what d'you expect, being hit on the back like that. Makes me tired.'
'Here, I got fifteen cards.'

Vile Bodies, Evelyn Waugh
 
It reminded her of the small logging town in Oregon where she grew up, unforgiving country she could not wait to leave. - Neanderthal by John Darnton
 
I often read more than one book at a time, but I have this thing I do when I'm reading something I am really enjoying and don't want to end - I slow wayyyyyyyy down and try to pick it up only once a day.

Nothing wrong with reading slowly - or savoring what you're reading either. I also like sharing thoughts about a current read with a friend (which can be dangerous if I am further ahead.) I don't want spoilers.

Oh, and I should say, I love Eddings. Read them all. :D

Funny! When I am reading a book or a series that I don't want to end, I put the book away for a couple weeks when I get to the last 2 chapters.
 

... It was just about 2:00 P.M. when a British shell landed squarely on the southwest bastion of Fort McHenry, and exploded with a blinding flash. For a brief second everything was lost in a ball of fire and smoke, then it cleared away, revealing a 24-pounder dismounted and its crew sprawled at odd angles in the dirt.

Several members of Judge Nicholson's Fencibles rushed over— but they were too late to help Lieutenant Levi Clagett or Sargeant John Clemm, two of Baltimore's prominent merchants who served in the company. As the dead and wounded were carried off, Private Philip Cohen must have felt lucky indeed. He had been standing right next to Clagett when the shell landed, yet escaped without a scratch.

So many of the garrison seemed to live charmed lives. Captain Henry Thompson dashed through a hail of shrapnel carrying messages to and from Hampstead Hill. Master's Mate Robert Stockton constantly exposed himself as Commodore Rogers's courier. And every man in the garrison had a horseshoe in his pocket that terrifying moment when a shell finally did crash through the roof of the magazine. It didn't go off... just lay there sputtering as some quick-witted hero doused the fuse in time.

This was too close a call for Major Armistead. He ordered the powder barrels cleared out and scattered under the rear walls of the fort. Better risk one or two than see the whole place go up. Private Mendes Cohen of the Fencibles joined the crew in rolling out the kegs. It was dangerous work with the shells flying about, and he finally took a moment to rest— by sitting on the end of a full powder barrel.

Toward 3:00 P.M., Major Armistead suddenly noticed that three of the British bomb vessels had weighed anchor and, together with the rocket ship, were moving toward the fort again. Apparently, Admiral Cochrane felt he had softened it up enough— that it could no longer hurt his ships even if they came within range. Now they were closing in for the kill.

That was all right with Armistead. For six hours he had sat taking his punishment, firing only occasionally to reassure Baltimore that he was still holding out. But most of his guns were sound and his gunners thirsting for a chance to work off their frustrations. Now they stood at the embrasures aching to go. At the Lazaretto across the Northwest Branch, Lieutenant Rutter stood ready too, as did Lieutenant Solomon Frazier's flotillamen on the gunboats in the channel. The British ships glided closer— two miles... a mile and a half. Then with a roar that shook the whole harbor, Armistead let go with everything he had...


-Walter Lord
The Dawn's Early Light
New York, N.Y. 1972.




The Bicentennial of the War of 1812 is approaching. As everyone knows, Francis Scott Key was inspired by the repulse of the British attack on Baltimore and Fort McHenry to compose a poem— "Defence of Ft. M'Henry" that was subsequently sung to the tune of "Anacreon in Heaven." Only later did it come to be known as "The Star Spangled Banner."

The War of 1812 is not well-remembered. The Bicentennial will undoubtedly see the appearance of new histories. I am aware of at least one new book, Perilous Fight: America's Intrepid War with Britain on the High Seas, 1812-1815, that will be available this month. A little remembered history of the naval war, The Age of Fighting Sail, was authored by C. S. Forester ( yes, THAT C. S. Forester— in one of his few works of non-fiction). It's a highly readable account that details the surprising successes of the fledgling, underdog United States Navy against the world's biggest and best. It was this book that first introduced me to the heroic voyages and battles of Constitution ( "Old Ironsides"), President, Java, Guerrière, Hornet, Wasp, Saratoga, Congress and Constellation— among others. Several of those names are mythic and form the backbone of U.S. Navy history and tradition. Most will recognize ship names that appear many times over in U.S. naval affairs. The privateer schooners known to history as Baltimore Clippers bedeviled British commerce throughout the war. The multitude of privateers built and based there formed a substantial part of the rationale for the British attack on the city.

 


...The Englishmen followed the Florida coast for a little more than a week and arrived off the Outer Banks of North Carolina in early July. The Outer Banks are a line of narrow, sandy islands extending approximately 150 miles, from near the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay in the north to Cape Lookout in the south. Created by prevailing winds and currents, the islands act as a barrier between the Atlantic Ocean and the shallow waters of the sounds within: Currituck, Albemare, and Pamlico. Fernandes had to skirt the Outer Banks for over a hundred miles before he found a passage between the islands that the ships were able to navigate, albeit with some difficulty. Entering Pamlico Sound, they dropped anchor about a mile from the island of Hatarask and gave thanks to God for their safe arrival.

Amadas and Barlowe were aware of the significance of their arrival off the American shore. They would be the first Englishmen to set foot on mainland North America in the vanguard of an English New World colony...

...The English had not seen any local peoples since arriving off the Outer Banks, but it is certain that the Indians had seen them. The two ships would not have taken the Indians entirely by surprise; they had seen such ships before. From the 1520s onward, Europeans had occasionally sailed by the Carolina coast on their way to the Chesapeake Bay or farther north, and in 1558 some ( probably Spanish or French ) sailors had been shipwrecked on the Outer Banks. The men had remained a few weeks on the island of Wococon before putting to sea in a makeshift boat and had perished soon after; Indians had found the remains of their boat washed up on the shore.

A Spanish ship had arrived off the coast some years later. The ship had been trying to reach the Bahia de Madre de Dios ( Chesapeake Bay ) to return an Indian convert called Paquiquineo, known as Don Luis to the Spanish, to his homeland...

...Besides their own experiences of Europeans, it is probable that the Indians had picked up news of other white men who had entered lands to the south and north of them. Information passed by word of mouth from one group to another across hundreds of miles, and peoples of the Carolina region may well have heard stories of the Spanish in Florida, who had built forts and made war on the peoples of those lands. They may also have heard that a small group of Spaniards had tried to build a settlement on the Chesapeake Bay but had been destroyed by the Indians there ( in 1571 )...


-James Horn
A Kingdom Strange: The Brief and Tragic History of the Lost Colony of Roanoke
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 2010.




European efforts to colonize North America began more than 250 years before the creation of the United States. That's a lot of history that basically isn't taught and with which few are familiar.

I was always aware of the failed colony of Roanoke and the trivial fact that Virginia Dare was the first English child born in the "New World." I was not, however, aware of how much was known about the effort. I was completely unaware that historians have always known the location of Roanoke, assuming that it had long ago disappeared in the tangled growth of the regnant wilderness. The story of the colony is interesting; Sir Walter Rale(i)gh, a temporary favorite of the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth I, was an entrepreneur/pirate/hustler of the first water. He succeeded to the colonial rights that she originally granted to his cousin, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, and was the moving force behind the 1587 colonizing voyage to Roanoke Island. The location resulted from two earlier reconaissance voyages made to the area in 1584 and 1585. The choice of a location for the settlement was not wise as the lack of a safe harbor was a contributing factor in its demise. Of course, part of the reason for that poor choice was fear of detection by the Spanish.

The author, James Horn, is employed at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation and is, thus, immersed in colonial history. This account relates the long background rivalry and eventual war between Spain and England that contributed to Roanoke's disappearance. In so doing he recounts the 1565 Spanish destruction and massacre of a French Huguenot colony in Florida ( Fort Caroline— said to have been located near present day Jacksonville ) as well as the brief existence of a Spanish settlement in the Chesapeake. That was news to me; I'd never previously read or heard of that Spanish settlement.

 
"If you plan a public Web site, with users acessing your Web site from the WWW, you need Windows 2000 or later."
— PHP & MySQL for Dummies 3rd Edition by Janet Valade​
 
Lose yourself in art and you end up not knowing where you begin and end.

H. Jacobson, Kalooki Nights.
 
These two odours are among my primary memories, not to be forgotten any more than I could forget mother's way of lingering over my name as she pronounced it, the sky light in her eyes, of the purple blue of the fringed gentian, or the expression of father's face when on coming home from a long morning ride he found mother among her flowers; she would bring him a welcome bit of luncheon or a cooling drink as she rested under the old apple tree while she listened to reports of various happenings, and I absorbed scraps of food and conversation alike.

'The Garden Of A Commuter's Wife'

recorded by
The Gardener.
MacMillen Co.
1901

The above run on sentence was actually on page 29 but there were only six or seven sentences on page 28.
 
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A little aside...

Look, Earth is four and a half billion years old. The rocks in your backyard are moving, if only you could stand still enough to watch. How are we supposed to measure the brief, warm, intensely complicated fingersnap of our lives against the absolutely incomprehensible vastness of the universe?

How? We stare into the fire. We turn to friends, bartenders, lovers, priests, drug-dealers, painters. And we turn to books.

All around us right now, tucked into the valleys and along the coasts, bookshops glow in the winter light. Think of them like singular, magical, and multi-dimensional recipe boxes. They wait for us to pluck out a card, to stand over the stove, to start cooking.

Anthony Doerr on Books, Memory and the Twelve Bright Stars Scratched Across Page 302.
 
Paris, October 3, 1914.

The Café Viennois is, if you remember, situated at the corner of the Boulevard Montmartre and the Rue Drouot, in plein, full, center of Paris, to express it in the most Parisian term. Well, what would you think if I should, tell you that on the three-stone-step entrance that forms the angle before the now closed doors of this establishment redolent of 1900's Viennese fad, almost on the side-walk of what was once the busiest point of the city's thorough-fare there is a woman sitting on a camp stool giving knitting lessons. Her terms are gratuitous (we all have our own way of helping) so, need it be said that even in these thinly populated days, she manages to get a class around her.

Elizabeth Dryden, Paris in Herrick's Days.
 
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