#bibliohpile

[bookwormsshallruletheworld]

It’s funny how I went from reading so many books, to complaining about not having time to read due to my studies, to reading books on Judaism, part of my studies, for fun...

[tothewordgarden]

So excited to read this! Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith.

[ashlyreads]

They went ahead and fell in love. It was beautiful. Daffodils and sparkplugs, wine bottles and puddle-jumping, giggling deep into a maroon night at the silly splendors of the world. Rolling in goose feathers, coffee in bed. Stories from childhood shaken out from dusty cabinets of memory. The soft touch of fingers. The hot song of red lips.

“The Girl in the Red Chair” from Ten Women Who Shook the World by Sylvia Brownrigg

[ashlyreads]

The girl was ready to wail with frustration. Generally her job didn't make her feel powerless–she felt she was serving an important function there at the gallery, and anyway, she always had her hat on to comfort her–but just then she came to see that she was a scarecrow and nothing else and that people think of scarecrows as stuffed canvas bags or dummies, certainly not as potential friends, and that must be how this man in the leather jacket thought of her, too.

“The Girl in the Red Chair” from Ten Women Who Shook the World by Sylvia Brownrigg

[let-the-books-have-me]

[ashlyreads]

when you’re reading an awesome book into the late hours of the night and sleep finally wins:

[the-librarian-geek]

I kind of lose myself to the reading and now it’s three in the morning…oops😥

[theperksofbeingabookseller]

Publishers, readers, booksellers, even critics, acclaim the novel that one can deliciously sink into, forget oneself in, the novel that returns us to the innocence of childhood or the dream of the cartoon, the novel of a thousand confections and no unwanted significance. What becomes harder to find, and lonelier to defend, is the idea of the novel as—in Ford Madox Ford’s words—a “medium of profoundly serious investigation into the human case.”

James Wood