Tag: The Friday 56 Page 8 of 15

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 Goodbye Coast by Joe Ide

“Is there any other reason Fallon came here?” Marlowe said.

“He wants to be an actor,” Ren said, shaking her head. “He went to a few theater auditions in London. He’d read for a minute, no more, and get dismissed. In England, we take our actors seriously.”

“If you catch up with Fallon, what will you do?”

“I’ll kill him first and then we’ll talk.”

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.

Another week where there’s nothing I can share from my current read. However, the book I’m reading is discussing the third book in the Hitchhiker’s Guide trilogy. That’s close enough for me…

from Page 56 of:

Life, The Universe, and Everything by Douglas Adams

“Ask me if I ever get bored, go on, ask me.”

The mattress did.

Marvin ignored the question, he merely trudged with added emphasis.

“I gave a speech once,” he said suddenly and apparently unconnectedly. “You may not instantly see why I bring the subject up, but that is because my mind works so phenomenally fast, and I am at a rough estimate thirty billion times more intelligent than you. Let me give you an example. Think of a number, any number.”

“Er, five,” said the mattress.

“Wrong,” said Marvin. “You see?”

The mattress was much impressed by this and realized that he was in the presence of a not unremarkable mind.

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.

When I started doing these, I imposed a rule on myself that I would only use a book that I was reading that week, but between ARCs and page 56s that didn’t work without context, I didn’t have anything this week (or, likely, next), and I like doing these. Rules are meant to be broken, right? So I started grabbing random books off my shelf—it took me three tries, apparently, page 56 is a popular one to leave blank.

A blast from the past this week.
from Page 56 of:

MASH by Richard Hooker

Dear Hawkeye:

As Dean of the College, I naturally remember you very well. In my job one has to take the bitter as well as the sweet, and I’ve had my share of both.

My natural expectation is that, if I accede to your request, I will soon have on my hands some illiterate seventy-year-old refugee from a leper colony. Despite the possibility of your having matured slightly in the last nine years, that is really what I expect.

However, this sort of thing is popular these days. If you feel your boy can do college work and if you can get him over here and supply him with a thousand dollars a year, we will give him a chance. Enclosed is an application for Ho-Jon to complete.

Sincerely,
James Lodge
Dean, Androscoggin College

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 56% of:

The Jackals by Adam Shaw

As soon as I step out the front door, I exhale. The chilly downtown air hits me all at once, and I’m forced to recognize the beads of sweat resting in my hairline, the moistness of Rob’s post-workout filth on my shirt, the goosebumps traveling up and down my arms. I quit my job. Apparently, I’m moving.

“Jack!”

Beth is smiling. Her pale skin shines against the red brick of the wall behind her. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing the same red flannel she wore the day I got back to Lafayette. A couple golden strands cling to it near her right shoulder, but she either doesn’t notice them or doesn’t care. It only takes her eyes a couple seconds to notice the box of belongings under my arm, though, the bat signal of a corporate walk of shame, and her smile disappears.