I fold back the sheet, get carefully up, on silent bare feet, in my nightgown, go to the window, like a child, I want to see. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. The sky is clear but hard to make out, because of the searchlight; but yes, in the obscured sky a moon does float, newly, a wishing moon, a sliver of ancient rock, a goddess, a wink. The moon is a stone and the sky is full of deadly hardware, but oh God, how beautiful anyway.

.. I still don't understand why I was unable to speak the truth. Perhaps there is no explanation other than that I had been weaned too long on secrecy, taught by my mother from earliest childhood the strange and unquantifiable power of keeping one‘s counsel. But that is probably too generous an assessment. I suspect the truth was that, like so many who cloak themselves in mistrust and call it independence, I was merely a coward.

But he knew better than to interrupt her now. She must have spent the morning in an agony of thought. She must have spent the afternoon in a frenzy of action at the shopping center, racing in and out of stores to buy the birthday gifts and the roast of beef and the cake and the cocktail apron. Her whole day had been a heroic build-up for this moment of self-abasement; now it was here, and she was damned if she‘d stand for any interference.

A copy, surprisingly well preserved, that belonged to the Brothers Karamazov.

#thebrotherskaramazov #dostoevsky #Russianclassics #oldbooks #antiquebooks

In 1839 the eighteen year old youth Dostoevsky (Fyodor) wrote to his brother: "Man is a mystery: if you spend your entire life trying to puzzle it out, then do not say that you have wasted your time. I occupy myself with this mystery, because I want to be a man."

#thebrotherskaramazov

"I wade out to the bench, set down my wine,
My bread and cheese, and like some sage
Of old, sit down to dine.
I do not rage
Or pine
At age,
For youth once mine.
This pool, this plate, this page,
This tree whose roots are branch and tine
Holds me in its still hour-glass, its free cage."

#vikramseth #poetry

"Last night a storm raged round the bare oak tree.
A cold, sharp rain fell; wild in pace
The ice-fed air swirled free.
Now in this place
I see
No trace
Of wind or lee,
No grass, no earth—the space
Is a clear lake, deep as my knee.
I reach its edge and view, far down, my face."

#poetry #vikramseth

So I'm sinking my teeth into this one and even though I've not read it before its like rediscovering a dish from childhood that you once loved but didn't get to savour again, for a long time. And the delight you feel on stumbling upon it again. This particular image of Gandalf walking through a lush green wood, with the rain making everything mystical and yet so inviting, is a favourite.

#LOTRchapteraday #inotherwords #tolkien #thehobbit

Read this over 2 days. Not because it is an excellent thriller but because it is a reasonably swift page turner, which is the least any thriller ought to be in order to be called one. Although not the most exciting whodunit, the writing is promising for a debut, with possibly better things to come. I've still to read The Woman in Cabin 10 though. Kill time before you doze off with this one.

#inadarkdarkwood #review #ruthware #inotherwords

Excited to read this one as part of the #LOTRchapteraday
Thanks @freyaheart for a great pick as a group read.

An interesting fact about The Hobbit that I came across: There is no female character in the book - the only woman mentioned by name is Bilbo's mother, Belladonna Took.

Do share more fun facts that you know about this or other works by Tolkien. Happy reading!

#LOTRchapteraday #thehobbit #tolkien #inotherwords

"It had become a routine of Ifemelu's visits: Aunty Uju collected all her dissatisfactions in a silk purse, nursing them, polishing them, and then on the Saturday of Ifemelu's visit, while Bartholomew was out and Dike upstairs, she would spill them out on the table, and turn each one this way and that, to catch the light."

#americanah #chimamandangoziadichie #inotherwords

Riveting read. Keep going back to this one again and again. Imagine reading about God's honest truth as if it were the strangest fiction. But that is how truth reads to us today. What an extraordinary, mad world it is - ever since we, Homo Sapiens, came into our own. A bracing read that chronicles the history of mankind - the beginning; Cognitive, Agricultural & Scientific Revolutions; present day & a glimpse of what the future holds. Enter, AI.

A Strangeness in My Mind by Orhan Pamuk contains some beautiful and evocative sentences about this state of being and how it can influence the shape of being.

#astrangenessinmymind #orhanpamuk #inotherwords

Loneliness is an indescribable malady - and yet one which can, perhaps, be called a fount of wisdom. Although, occasionally, it chooses irrationality to have a drink with; it also allows itself to be examined by objectivity, albeit discreetly - so that genuineness has a chance to thrive.

#astrangenessinmymind #orhanpamuk #inotherwords

Here are two of a series of letters written post partition by Manto to "Uncle Sam" that not only reflect his own wit, writing genius and the ethos of that era, but make for delightful and relevant reading even and especially now, more than 5 decades later..

http://www.alhamra.com/Excerpts/LettersExcerpt.htm

http://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article/third-letter-to-uncle-sam

#manto #unclesam #letterstounclesam #shortstories #inotherwords

"I had seen Siraj once or twice. She was really skinny but beautiful, and her prominent eyes over-shadowed every other feature on her oval face. When I saw her for the first time on Clare road, I was puzzled. I wanted to tell her eyes, ‘Excuse me, please move aside a little so I can see Siraj.‘ Needless to say, it didn‘t happen."

#manto #shortstories #shortstory #inotherwords

For the love of Manto.

Saadat Hasan Manto's stories, dark as they may be, leave your heart that much lighter for the whittling down it endures whilst reading them.

#manto #shortstories #shortstory #inotherwords