Then a terrible shriek came from the middle of the crowd, as if someone has set his foot upon a burning thorn, as if his foot being nailed to the earth with nails of fire, as if flames were shooting through his marrow. The crowd fell apart, all eyes drawn to the foot to which... Continue Reading →
"She pictured him in nice clothes, his hair cut shorter, maybe his nose straightened, speaking a more careful English, interested in music and literature, learning about politics, psychology, philosophy; wanting to know more the more he knew, in this way growing in value to himself and others." The Assistant, Bernard Malamud I found Bernard Malamud... Continue Reading →
“...my point is that the only authentic identity for the African is the tribe...I am Nigerian because a white man created Nigeria and gave me that identity. I am black because the white man constructed black to be as different as possible from his white. But I was Igbo before the white man came.”... Continue Reading →
“Men may keep a sort of level of good, but no man has ever been able to keep on one level of evil. That road goes down and down.” Meeting fictional detectives seems to be my main interest when reading classic crime books and this year I started with Father Brown. Unlike the flashy and... Continue Reading →
On November 16, 1959, The New York Times published an account of murders, which began: Holcomb, Kan., Nov. 15 [1959] (UPI) — A wealthy wheat farmer, his wife and their two young children were found shot to death today in their home. They had been killed by shotgun blasts at close range after being bound and gagged...... Continue Reading →
December is always dreadful. This is the time when Goodreads sends us our 'year in books' and this month I have to face the fact that I didn't accomplish my reading goal (45/55). I was thinking of reading ten mangas and called it done but thinking about all the books I read, I was quite... Continue Reading →
I told Helen my stories and she went home and cried Reading this first line at a bookstore instantly made me rush to the cashier to pay. I wanted to sit and do nothing but found out what had happened to the narrator. Sophia is a twenty-one and naive artist living in England in the... Continue Reading →
