Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. What if this young woman, who writes such bad poems, in competition with her husband, whose poems are equally bad, should stretch her remarkably long and well-made legs out before you, so that her skirt slips up to the tops of her stockings? I have never begun a novel with more misgiving. Somerset Maugham, The Razor's Edge Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up.
Chesterton, The Napoleon of Notting Hill In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby You better not never tell nobody but God.
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It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and so does Mindy Metalman, Lenore notices, all of a sudden. If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog. Francis Marion Tarwater's uncle had been dead for only half a day when the boy got too drunk to finish digging his grave and a Negro named Buford Munson, who had come to get a jug filled, had to finish it and drag the body from the breakfast table where it was still sitting and bury it in a decent and Christian way, with the sign of its Saviour at the head of the grave and enough dirt on top to keep the dogs from digging it up.
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Granted: I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of his sight; there's a peephole in the door, and my keeper's eye is the shade of brown that can never see through a blue-eyed type like me. Ralph Manheim. When Dick Gibson was a little boy he was not Dick Gibson. Hiram Clegg, together with his wife Emma and four friends of the faith from Randolph Junction, were summoned by the Spirit and Mrs. Clara Collins, widow of the beloved Nazarene preacher Ely Collins, to West Condon on the weekend of the eighteenth and nineteenth of April, there to await the End of the World.
She waited, Kate Croy, for her father to come in, but he kept her unconscionably, and there were moments at which she showed herself, in the glass over the mantel, a face positively pale with the irritation that had brought her to the point of going away without sight of him.
In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull.
The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.
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Hartley, The Go-Between On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. In the last years of the Seventeenth Century there was to be found among the fops and fools of the London coffee-houses one rangy, gangling flitch called Ebenezer Cooke, more ambitious than talented, and yet more talented than prudent, who, like his friends-in-folly, all of whom were supposed to be educating at Oxford or Cambridge, had found the sound of Mother English more fun to game with than her sense to labor over, and so rather than applying himself to the pains of scholarship, had learned the knack of versifying, and ground out quires of couplets after the fashion of the day, afroth with Joves and Jupiters, aclang with jarring rhymes, and string-taut with similes stretched to the snapping-point.
When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon. It was just noon that Sunday morning when the sheriff reached the jail with Lucas Beauchamp though the whole town the whole county too for that matter had known since the night before that Lucas had killed a white man. I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus This-that-and-the-other for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles who was once, and not so long ago either, known to my friends and relatives and associates as "Claudius the Idiot," or "That Claudius," or "Claudius the Stammerer," or "Clau-Clau-Claudius" or at best as "Poor Uncle Claudius," am now about to write this strange history of my life; starting from my earliest childhood and continuing year by year until I reach the fateful point of change where, some eight years ago, at the age of fifty-one, I suddenly found myself caught in what I may call the "golden predicament" from which I have never since become disentangled.
Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I've come to learn, is women. I am an American, Chicago born—Chicago, that somber city—and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent.
The towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. I will tell you in a few words who I am: lover of the hummingbird that darts to the flower beyond the rotted sill where my feet are propped; lover of bright needlepoint and the bright stitching fingers of humorless old ladies bent to their sweet and infamous designs; lover of parasols made from the same puffy stuff as a young girl's underdrawers; still lover of that small naval boat which somehow survived the distressing years of my life between her decks or in her pilothouse; and also lover of poor dear black Sonny, my mess boy, fellow victim and confidant, and of my wife and child.
But most of all, lover of my harmless and sanguine self. He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. Psychics can see the color of time it's blue. In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together. Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. He—for there could be no doubt of his sex, though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it—was in the act of slicing at the head of a Moor which swung from the rafters. High, high above the North Pole, on the first day of , two professors of English Literature approached each other at a combined velocity of miles per hour.
But she might be on her own, and the toxic world beyond the silos walls is only one of her worries — a poison has begun to grow within the walls of Silo 18 itself. Set in a somewhat familiar post-apocalyptic world, most of the population has been infected by a zombie fungus. Also adapted into a recent film, this book will appeal to fans of the video game The Last of Us which also happens to feature fungal zombies and a young, headstrong female protagonist. Meet the world of Red Rising , where everything is color-coded, including society.
Darrow is a Red, the lowest caste: he spends his days toiling in the mines so that Mars is habitable for future generations.
But when he discovers that the surface of Mars is already inhabitable and that he and his fellow Reds have been duped, his desire for vengeance sends him to the Institute, the top training institution in the galaxy… and a death ground for anyone but Golds. One brave young explorer in the form of Rosemary Harper? A motley and diverse crew that contains multiple alien species?
A fast-paced, riotous romp through space as the Wayfarer encounters a lot of mishaps — and we mean a lot? Check, check, check. Time comes to reveal the truth, but it could rip her colony apart forever. Fans of Tiptree and Crispin will take to this exceptionally gripping novel instantly. The Nebula and Hugo winner for best sci-fi novella, Binti introduces us to an unforgettable titular character: Binti, a girl who has just become the first of the Himba people to get an offer to study at Oomza University.
Only everyman Mike Erikson is unconvinced. Fans of Marie Lu, gather around! The truth may only be found in the data and documents that Kady discovers: a web of emails, chatrooms, and IMs that coincidentally happen to be the frame text of this heart-pounding, immensely readable novel. To have a hope of succeeding, she must partner with the undead general Shuos Jedao. The tiny problem with this is that Shuos Jedao went mad in an earlier life and massacred two armies — one of them his own. This first entry in the Broken Earth series transformed Jemisin from a beloved genre darling into a breakout star of mainstream fiction.
The narrative follows three female characters who belong to a class that has the power to influence earthquakes and volcanoes.
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Noted for its incredible characterization , The Fifth Season is a true modern masterpiece. This YA novel imagines a future world free of conflict: poverty, war, hunger, and even mortality have all been solved once and for all.
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Of course, now the world is seeing overpopulation at unprecedented rates. Enter: the Scythedom, an organization that controls who lives and dies. One day, young Rose was riding her bike when the earth caved in beneath her and she fell through, landing in a giant, metal palm. Now, finally, she is on the edge of uncovering the truth — and potentially discovering that some truths are best left buried.
In the world of Six Wakes , when you die, you come back as a cloned version of yourself, with all your memories intact. The streaks of blood adorning her cloning vat? What follows is a race against the clock to find the murderer… before they strike again. Native humans have integrated with the advanced aliens and signs of closer collaboration are beginning to show.
Yet everything suddenly hangs in the balance when Donovan Reyes, the son of the prestigious Prime Liaison, is captured by a rebel group. In Exo , Fonda Lee asks what peace really means and thoughtfully explores questions about imperialism and what it means to be under rule. Or sign up with an email address. Sign up to Reedsy Discovery to win our best sci-fi book every month for a year.
Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne Though best known as a quintessential adventure novelist , Jules Verne often incorporated shades of science fiction into his work — most notably in his early masterpiece, Journey to the Center of the Earth. The Time Machine by H. Wells Often credited as the work that sparked the concept of time travel via a — drum roll please — time machine!
The War of the Worlds by H. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley Hundreds of years in the future, the world is a utopian dream read: dystopian nightmare thanks to genetic manipulation, an intelligence-based caste system, heavy medication, and the fact that people now learn in their sleep. A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M.
Miller Jr. Solaris by Stanislaw Lem Kris Kelvin is going about his day, preparing to study the ocean that covers the planet Solaris. Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Dick Is it really science fiction if it takes place in the past or present?