This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
She said to Ho, “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”
As an interrogation technique, thought River, this lacked bite.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
Theft of Swords by Michael J. Sullivan
The room was unused.
Hadrian remained silent near the window as Royce moved across the room to the door. He watched as the thief’s feet tested the surface of the floor before committing his weight. Royce mentioned once how he had been in an attic on a job when he hit a weak board and fell through the bedroom ceiling. This floor was stone, but even stones sometimes had loose mortar or contained hidden traps or alarms. Royce made it to the door, where he crouched and paused to listen. He motioned a sign for walking with his hand and then began counting on his fingers for Hadrian to see. There was a pause, and then he repeated the signal. Hadrian crossed the room to join his friend and the two sat waiting for several minutes in silence.
Eventually Royce lifted the latch with gloved hands but did not open the door. Outside they could hear the heavy footfalls of hard boots on stone, first one set, and then a second. As the steps faded, Royce opened the door slightly and peered out. The hall was empty.
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
“Do you think of yourself as a genius, Arthur?”
“What? Me?”
Apparently the Head takes that as a no. “You and me. we’ve met geniuses. And we know we’re not like them, don’t we? What is it like to go on, knowing you are not a genius, knowing you are a mediocrity? I think it’s the worst kind of hell.”
“Well,” Less said. “I think there’s something between genius and mediocrity—”
“That’s what Virgil never showed Dante. He showed him Plato and Aristotle in a pagan paradise. But what about the lesser minds? Are we consigned to the flames?”
“No, I guess,” Less offers, “just to conferences like this one.”
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
He nodded off into the forest. “You can go now.”
“While you do what?” Jess said.
“Not your problem.”
“Don’t let him—” Shirazad began, before Deathgrip twisted her arm, making her cry out in pain.
“You still here?” Deathgrip asked Emmanuel.
“So how do we get paid?” Emmanuel asked.
“Guess you’ll just have to keep your advance.”
“We didn’t get an advance.”
Deathgrip raised his eyebrows. “Sucks to be you.”
I saw this over at My World of Books, and it looked fun, so I thought I’d take a stab at it. I should also credit Ariel Bissett the creator of this here tag.
Both B.B. Warfield’s Faith & Life and Richard Gaffin’s In the Fullness of Time: An Introduction to the Biblical Theology of Acts and Paul are project books that I’m plugging away at a little each week—and should have no problem finishing by the end of the year.
I really don’t think of reading that way—seasons rarely impact what I’m reading. But if I had to pick one, I guess Jane Steele sort-of functioned in a transition-ish way for me—shifting from my summer project to pressing on to my rest-of-the-year goals, I guess.
The World Record Book of Racist Stories by Amber Ruffin & Lacey Lamar promises to be hilarious, heartbreaking, and anger-inducing. It feels strange to look forward to that, but hey…that’s the kind of guy I am. I’ve enjoyed the first two volumes of the Sunshine Vicram trilogy, so I expect to love A Hard Day for a Hangover by Darynda Jones. I can’t believe I almost published this without mentioning Desert Star. Bosh, Ballard, and Connelly are one of the best combinations out there, I can’t wait to dive in. I’m sure there are other upcoming releases that I’ll be as excited about, but I’ll have to wait until they’re upon us before I realize it.
I thought about mentioning books 2-4 of The Frost Files…but that feels like a cheap way to get to three easily. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail on that front, alas—and why set myself up for failure like that?
So, let’s go with…
I’m going to go with Mick Herron’s Dead Lions for 3 reasons—1. I’ve been promising myself for ages to read the rest of the series, and #2 is the next step; 2. My buddy Paul will stop nagging me if I read it (and start nagging me about Real Tigers, but that’s 2023’s problem. Besides, change will do him good), and 3. I want to be able to watch season 2 of the Apple series in a couple of weeks. Secondly, I’ve been on myself to read Ian Shane’s Radio Radio since at least April of 2019 when I bought it, and I’m sure it’ll be a burst of goodness (and it’ll help me finish up a Reading Challenge). Lastly, I planned on reading E.B. White on Dogs this spring, so I’d better hop to it.
Any of the books mentioned in this post are likely contenders. Other than White and Herron, all the authors mentioned in this post have made best-of lists for me in the past few years—and I think Herron’s got a shot at it this year already because of Reconstruction, so why not for this one, too? So…yeah, any of these.
A little. Not much. Most of my energy is trying to finish fulfilling the plans I had for 2022. I do have three review copies of ’23 releases and only plan on reading one of them this year. I have sketches of plans and projects, but I won’t finalize those for another 6 weeks or so. Probably.
But really, I have to keep the pedal to the metal to hope to take care of most of my 2022 hopes and plans. I can deal with 2023 after that.
As usual, I’m not tagging anyone in this—but I’d like to see what you all have to come up with.
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
My mother nodded away as she took all this in.
“You see, I was right.”
“How’s that, Ma?”
“He was too clever. If you’re that clever you can argue yourself into anything. You just leave common sense behind. It’s his brain unhinged him, that’s why he did it.”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say? You mean you agree?”
Not replying was the only way to keep my temper.
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
The Bullet That Missed by Richard Osman
“So kill me or let me go. Those are your two options. Which do you choose?”
“I think I choose option three,” says the Viking. “The option where I send Viktor Illyich the full photos.”
“The full photos?”
“Yes, for sure. The photos with your friend Joyce Meadowcroft by your side. Both pictures, both names.”
“Bit below the belt,” says Stephen. Elizabeth still feels safe. Viktor won’t go after Joyce either. Not if they’re in the photo together. A friend of Elizabeth is a friend of Viktor.
“Viktor might not have the heart to kill Joyce, of course,” says the Viking. “She is more of a civilian, I think? So here’s my deal. Just as insurance, if Viktor Illyich isn’t dead within two weeks, I will kill your friend Joyce.”
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
Dead Man’s Hand by James J. Butcher
He longed for the days when things were simply monsters and slaying. Black-and-white. But that was a long time ago. Now everything was more muddled gray. He was starting to think maybe it always had been; he just couldn’t see it.
Not until after Mary died.
He growled and shook his head. He had hoped to shake out the memories, but they just settled to the bottom of his mind instead, like shards of glass floating in a whiskey bottle.
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
6 Ripley Avenue by Noelle Holten
Sloane was startled out of her thoughts by a hand around her ankle and she had to work to regain her balance.
‘What the hell?’
Looking down, she saw a middle-aged woman with unkempt greying hair, her thin frame layered in old sweaters that had seen better times and wrapped in sleeping bags that had a strange odour emanating from them. She couldn’t hear what the woman was saying as she was speaking in a low voice, so she bent down, subtly holding a hand over her nose.
‘Are you OK? Hungry? I’ve got a sandwich if you want it.’
Sloane started to open her bag when the woman grabbed her wrist – much tighter than Sloane would have expected.
‘Be careful. A pretty girl like you could get hurt out here.’ The woman spat the next words: ‘They’re not finished yet…’
This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.
RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.
from Page 56 of:
A Death in Door County by Annelise Ryan
He paused and pulled at his beard. “I suppose one explanation is that whatever bit them fellas carried them to the waters near the beaches where they were found.”
“But why?” I said, a mostly rhetorical question. I was merely thinking aloud. “If the men weren’t killed for food, why were they killed? It doesn’t fit with typical animal behavior.”
“Well, this ain’t exactly a typical animal we’re thinking about here, is it?” Marty said, arching those scraggly eyebrows.
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