"When you open a book," the sentimental library posters said, "anything can happen." This was so. A book of fiction was a bomb. It was a land mine you wanted to go off. You wanted it to blow your whole day. Unfortunately, hundreds of thousands of books were duds. They had been rusting out of everyone's way for so long that they no longer worked. There was no way to distinguish the duds from the live mines except to throw yourself at them headlong, one by one. --Annie Dillard, An American Childhood

I would like to live to be a hunded because loving and being loved are so good and there are so many books; but were I to learn now that I had only a week left, I would finish today's spell of writing, have the cup of coffee that I crave and go on with the one book I'm reading. --John Tittensor, Year One: A Record

November 13, 2010

mission accomplished

This morning I finished my 100th book of 2010! To celebrate, I've decided to give away one of my faves from this year.

Here are your choices:
- The Hotel Under the Sand, by Kage Baker
- An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, by Elizabeth McCracken
- The Ingenious Edgar Jones, by Elizabeth Garner
- The Secret Scripture, by Sebastian Barry
- The Princess and the Hound, by Mette Ivie Harrison


To enter, simply leave a comment telling me which book you might like to win. For a bonus entry: tell me the title/author of one of your favorite books.

Thanks for playing! --V

November 11, 2010

Anne's House of Dreams

by L.M. Montgomery

"Oh, I know I've been very selfish," sighed Anne. "I love Gilbert more than ever--and I want to live for his sake. But it seems as if a part of me was buried over there in that little harbour graveyard--and it hurts so much that I'm afraid of life."

"It won't hurt so much always, Anne."

"The thought that it may stop hurting sometimes hurts me worst of all, Marilla."

November 3, 2010

A Woman's Book of Grieving

by Nessa Rapaport

Undo it, take it back, make every day the previous one until I am returned to the day before the one that made you gone. Or set me on an airplane travelling west, crossing the dateline again and again, losing this day, then that, until the day of loss is still ahead, and you are here, instead of sorrow.