1. 11 Jun



    More great graphic novels for seniors

    bookavore:

    A few weeks ago I suggested five great graphic novels for seniors and asked for more suggestions, which I got, and thank you! Here are some that look particularly great (for seniors, but also for me—I haven’t read about half of these but I am adding all of them to the list). Keep suggesting, please:

    I trust her recs. Yup.

     

  2. 3 Jun


    Rachael Drinks with Dragons (by Rachael Berkey)

    Dragons and sex? Romance novels are great.

     
     

  3. 28 May



    Tumblr Poll: Which classic book do you wish you had taken the time to read in school but didn’t?

     

  4. 21 May


    In case you missed this last night, I vlogged again. This time, gin & tonics and Threads of the Heart by Carole Martinez. It’s a great book. And I am marginally entertaining when talking about it. Also, it’s really hot.

     
     

  5. 16 May


    (Source: shes-reading-again)

     

  6. 13 May


    Drinks with Rachael - Ep. 2 - Allergic to Zombies (by Rachael Berkey)

    Zombies are the worst. Allergies suck too.

     
     

  7. 7 May


    byeraleigh: The Great Gatsby Presented Entirely Through Margin Notes Previously: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 ash imageryeyes billboardto NYC w/ Tomwalk into a brick buildingWilson’s eyes —>Tom’s mistressvitality, despite dull lookseven Wilson is covered in ashin a cabtries to assert his superiorityMyrtle + George WilsonTheir apartmentMyrtle’s mothercompany arriveswhat he describes is little (eyebrows) but tellinghow Myrtle’s behavior changesFitz. is mocking artistsChester McKeeCatherine saying that they should divorce.Lucille + Chester McKeewhy Myrtle married Georgewhen she realizes it’s not going to worklike before: privy to lots of informationhears things, but never asks to hear themsuch a cliche, but she doesn’t think soThe schedule of the rapid socialiteTom hits her.Because tapestries are more important than the problemHe leaves w/ Chester Jim and I went through high school together - meaning my all-girls school and his all-boys school were buddies - and I’m kind of really looking forward to re-experiencing The Great Gatsby through his marginalia. Yay books!

    byeraleigh:

    The Great Gatsby Presented Entirely Through Margin Notes

    Previously: Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    ash imagery
    eyes billboard
    to NYC w/ Tom
    walk into a brick building
    Wilson’s eyes —>
    Tom’s mistress
    vitality, despite dull looks
    even Wilson is covered in ash
    in a cab
    tries to assert his superiority
    Myrtle + George Wilson
    Their apartment
    Myrtle’s mother
    company arrives
    what he describes is little (eyebrows) but telling
    how Myrtle’s behavior changes
    Fitz. is mocking artists
    Chester McKee
    Catherine saying that they should divorce.
    Lucille + Chester McKee
    why Myrtle married George
    when she realizes it’s not going to work
    like before: privy to lots of information
    hears things, but never asks to hear them
    such a cliche, but she doesn’t think so
    The schedule of the rapid socialite
    Tom hits her.
    Because tapestries are more important than the problem
    He leaves w/ Chester

    Jim and I went through high school together - meaning my all-girls school and his all-boys school were buddies - and I’m kind of really looking forward to re-experiencing The Great Gatsby through his marginalia. Yay books!

     

  8. 6 May


    I did this thing. 

    Please tell me how big my ears are. I can’t stop thinking about it.

    I promise to be better next time.

    *runs to hide*

     
     

  9. 6 May


    (via Life-Changing Tip Of The Day: Never Drop Your Book In The Bathtub Again) I LIKE IT.

    (via Life-Changing Tip Of The Day: Never Drop Your Book In The Bathtub Again)

    I LIKE IT.

     

  10. 5 May


    hellogiggles: LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M READING by Rachael Berkey http://bit.ly/YnXuDZ I wrote this. Because sometimes I just can’t come up with lists and I just really need to read a lot of books all at the same time and really fast. And then I write things like this.

    hellogiggles:

    LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M READING

    by Rachael Berkey

    I wrote this. Because sometimes I just can’t come up with lists and I just really need to read a lot of books all at the same time and really fast. And then I write things like this.

     

  11. 29 Apr


    hellogiggles: FIVE YA READS YOU MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT by Rachael Berkey http://bit.ly/17sTLHD WE DIDN’T HAVE HARRY POTTER WHEN I WAS A KID, OKAY? So I wrote this.

    hellogiggles:

    FIVE YA READS YOU MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT

    by Rachael Berkey

    WE DIDN’T HAVE HARRY POTTER WHEN I WAS A KID, OKAY?

    So I wrote this.

     

  12. 26 Apr



    Seven great escapes in children's literature

     

  13. 23 Apr



    A sure sign of a good book is that you like it more the older you get.
    — Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (via literaryescapist)

    (via fuckyeahreading)

     

  14. 20 Apr



    I am always concerned when people, finding out that I am a writer, apologise and say, “I’m not much of a reader actually. I know I ought to, but I just don’t seem able to find the time,” and then go on to tell me how they feel obliged to finish any book they begin. Well, of course, I say, you will be reluctant to open one in the first place, knowing what it might entail. It isn’t meant to be like that, I assure them. If you begin a book and you don’t like it, just throw it away. Or take it round to a charity shop. It’s like going to a party: some people you linger with, knowing you get on. Some people you exchange greeting with and move on fast. It’s nothing against them. They’re just not your kind of person. It’s the same with books. You must be prepared to discard. And though you may feel it’s a waste of money not reading a book you don’t get on with, that’s like not opening the windows when the weather turns warm for fear of wasting the central heating. So, as I say, now is a good point to abandon the book. You have my permission - even my encouragement.
    — Chalot Crescent by Fay Weldon
     

  15. 4 Apr


    theparisreview: One could as well have chosenthat life of supermarket cartsjunked in the backyard,where you stand and waitwith your mechanic’s handsand a bare chestin summer, lightbehind you jammed into the picture,its code undecipherableeven by the camera,so steep and dense itsdreaming smeared on the warpedboards of the toolshed, makeshiftcinder path, and what once must have beengrass of a lawn now given wayto automobile parts and that complicationof wreckage, brutal and casualat once, whose talent it is to attachitself to us in Californiaor to those lives in other placeswe accede to. Where evening finds usI cannot name yet; these are livesbest seen, or dreamt, beneath that sunof backyard chaosand indeterminate nourishing power,that sun of rusting crankshafts,of beached headlights, where you waitfor what shall not be named yet in this poem, where evening finds us,should it find us,on a second-hand mattress whose bent springsjangle when the wind lies right,those mechanic’s handsto small availagainst the infinitemachine turningthe stars on over California,the dark no doubt insisting moonlightcolor chaos silver soon in backlotswhere supermarket cartsand auto bodiesawait, if we are gifted,restoration at our hands(and we are gifted),we who, beneath that daylight etchedlike anniversaries on the calendarnailed to the toolshed wall,wait for what has not disclosed its name,neither in Californianor in this life of bleached,unlikely places. Herbert Morris, “These Are Lives”Photography Credit Lluís Tudela God I love The Paris Review.

    theparisreview:

    One could as well have chosen
    that life of supermarket carts
    junked in the backyard,
    where you stand and wait
    with your mechanic’s hands
    and a bare chest
    in summer, light
    behind you jammed into the picture,
    its code undecipherable
    even by the camera,
    so steep and dense its
    dreaming smeared on the warped
    boards of the toolshed, makeshift
    cinder path, and what once must have been
    grass of a lawn now given way
    to automobile parts and that complication
    of wreckage, brutal and casual
    at once, whose talent it is to attach
    itself to us in California
    or to those lives in other places
    we accede to.

    Where evening finds us
    I cannot name yet; these are lives
    best seen, or dreamt, beneath that sun
    of backyard chaos
    and indeterminate nourishing power,
    that sun of rusting crankshafts,
    of beached headlights, where you wait
    for what shall not be named yet in this poem,

    where evening finds us,
    should it find us,
    on a second-hand mattress whose bent springs
    jangle when the wind lies right,
    those mechanic’s hands
    to small avail
    against the infinite
    machine turning
    the stars on over California,
    the dark no doubt insisting moonlight
    color chaos silver soon in backlots
    where supermarket carts
    and auto bodies
    await, if we are gifted,
    restoration at our hands
    (and we are gifted),
    we who, beneath that daylight etched
    like anniversaries on the calendar
    nailed to the toolshed wall,
    wait for what has not disclosed its name,
    neither in California
    nor in this life of bleached,
    unlikely places.

    Herbert Morris, “These Are Lives”
    Photography Credit Lluís Tudela

    God I love The Paris Review.