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Every once in a while you read the blurb of a book and think this could be a new favorite. Then you read the first paragraph and gets it confirmed. This was that book for me. I knew I was in safe hands and could just get lost in the story.

Arthur by the Thames from the 1840s, Narin by the Tigris in 2014 and Zaleekhah by the Thames in 2018. I preferred Arthur and Zaleekhah‘s stories and I post under a spoiler why

And that ending

It occurs to him, in that moment, that poverty has its own scent, an odour that emanates from his pores, easily detected. It is an awful, debilitating thought.

(This quote has my thinking of “Parasite” right away)

A day late because I wasn‘t very well yesterday.

This one was by far and away my favourite book of 2024.

#FaveBk24
#25Alive
@Alwaysbeenaloverofbooks
@Eggs

#FirstLineFridays

This paragraph pulled me in and hooked me

“Water is the consummate immigrant, trapped in transit, never able to settle.”

The story spans multiple timelines, a story of a child born in London in the 1800s, a young researcher with a broken marriage finding her footing in present day London and about a young girl belonging to an unconventional religion in present times as well.The common denominator is a single drop of water caught in its never ending cycle of evaporation and precipitation.

Not just my favourite read of November, but the best book of the year for me. I adored it.

#12BooksOf2024
@Andrew65

I have read this book in the last 24 hours and feel a bit battered and broken.
It‘s amazing, a work of art, but brutal and honest.
I learned a lot and googled a lot!
Brilliant story telling.

Joining @TheAromaofBooks #Readouttheold readathon to finish all the books before the new year arrives. Read this one for a bookclub. I had a hard time getting into it and when I got in, it became very heavy.

As she experimented with memoir, biography, and novels that contained elements of each, [Woolf] noticed that the process by which events are converted into history is inevitably distorting, for the past acquires in the telling a shape and coherence that is absent from the present. It's an observation that she expressed sharply when she came to write of her brother's death...

I could hear the water lapping almost at my heels, a flood tide rushing to glut the river. It rises and it falls, that flood, and in time it will have the barbastrelle and the brown-eared bat; it will have the Oak Eggar and the Garden Tiger; it will have the peregrine and the clattering jacks.