Book of the Week
What Do You Do When Your Favorite Author is Accused of Plagiarism?
Many people consider Freida McFadden to be the queen of popcorn thrillers. I often describe her books as being like Lifetime movies, and I think it’s an accurate description. Her books are fast-paced, and they keep me on the edge of my seat, but they aren’t the type of books that tend to stay with you.
Grapes of Wrath Review
In Chapters 1-3 of “The Grapes of Wrath” where the Joad family begins their journey to California in hope for a better life is a very intriguing scene. The author John Steinbeck exposes the desperate conditions under which the migratory farm families of America, along with focusing on the hardships and migration from Oklahoma to California of the Joad family during the Great Depression of the 1930s. Set during the Great Depression, the novel focuses on the Joads, a poor family of tenant farmers driven from their Oklahoma home by drought, economic hardship, agricultural industry changes, and bank foreclosures forcing tenant farmers out of work. Due to their nearly hopeless situation, and in part because they are trapped in the Dust Bowl, the Joads set out for California on the "mother road", along with thousands of other "Okies" seeking jobs, land, dignity, and a future.
Recommend a free novel
Title: Exploring the Emotional Landscape of Family: A Journey through "Winter Garden" Get 'Winter Garden' for free on Amazon
The Last Ruler of Jammu and Kashmir
Maharaja Sir Hari Singh GCSI GCIE GCVO, born in September 1895, occupies a significant place in the annals of Jammu and Kashmir's history. As the last ruling Maharaja of the princely state, his reign was characterized by both opulence and tumult, culminating in the pivotal decision of accession to the Dominion of India. Let's embark on a comprehensive exploration of the life, legacy, and controversies surrounding this enigmatic figure.
"If You Tell" by Gregg Olsen: A Gripping Dive into the Dark Depths of True Crime
Gregg Olsen's "If You Tell" is not merely a true crime thriller; it is an immersive journey into the chilling realms of human depravity, resilience, and the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood. In this riveting non-fiction narrative, Olsen meticulously unravels a tale that transcends the conventions of traditional crime literature, leaving readers both captivated and horrified by the shocking events that transpired within the walls of a seemingly ordinary family home.
Million Dollar Marriage. Katy Evans — review
I’ve been wanting to read Katy Evans’ book for a long time, because I read something on a similar topic on the #galatea app titled “Journey’s End” and I literally cried with laughter there 🤣
ACCESSORY BEFORE THE FACT, Part 3/3
ACCESSORY BEFORE THE FACT, Part 3/3 He remained in his corner without moving, puffing violently at an extinguished pipe, gripped helplessly by the return of that first vile terror. It came again to him with an absolute clarity of certainty that it was not with himself they had to do, these men, and, further, that he had no right in the world to interfere. He had no locus standi at all; it would be immoral ... even if the opportunity came. And the opportunity, he felt, would come. He had been an eavesdropper, and had come upon private information of a secret kind that he had no right to make use of, even that good might come—even to save life. He sat on in his corner, terrified and silent, waiting for the thing that should happen next.
ACCESSORY BEFORE THE FACT, Part 2/3
ACCESSORY BEFORE THE FACT, Part 2/3 Uneasy and distressed, he increased his pace. Midway in thinking what an unnecessarily clanking noise his nailed boots made upon the hard white road, there came upon him with a rush together the company of these things that haunted him as “unexplained.” They brought a single definite message: That all this business was not really meant for him at all, and hence his confusion and bewilderment; that he had intruded into someone else’s scenery, and was trespassing upon another’s map of life. By some wrong inner turning he had interpolated his person into a group of foreign forces which operated in the little world of someone else. Unwittingly, somewhere, he had crossed the threshold, and now was fairly in—a trespasser, an eavesdropper, a Peeping Tom. He was listening, peeping; overhearing things he had no right to know, because they were intended for another. Like a ship at sea he was intercepting wireless messages he could not properly interpret, because his Receiver was not accurately tuned to their reception. And more—these messages were warnings!
ACCESSORY BEFORE THE FACT, Part 1/3
At the moorland cross-roads Martin stood examining the sign-post for several minutes in some bewilderment. The names on the four arms were not what he expected, distances were not given, and his map, he concluded with impatience, must be hopelessly out of date. Spreading it against the post, he stooped to study it more closely. The wind blew the corners flapping against his face. The small print was almost indecipherable in the fading light. It appeared, however—as well as he could make out—that two miles back he must have taken the wrong turning.
THE RED ROOM, Final Chapter.
Final Chapter. As I stood undecided, an invisible hand seemed to sweep out the two candles on the table. With a cry of terror I dashed at the alcove, then into the corner and then into the window, relighting three as two more vanished by the fireplace, and then, perceiving a better way, I dropped matches on the iron-bound deedbox in the corner, and caught up the bedroom candlestick. With this I avoided the delay of striking matches, but for all that the steady process of extinction went on, and the shadows I feared and fought against returned, and crept in upon me, first a step gained on this side of me, then on that. I was now almost frantic with the horror of the coming darkness, and my self-possession deserted me. I leaped panting from candle to candle in a vain struggle against that remorseless advance.
THE RED ROOM, Chapter Four.
Chapter Four. By this time I was in a state of considerable nervous tension, although to my reason there was no adequate cause for my condition. My mind, however, was perfectly clear. I postulated quite unreservedly that nothing supernatural could happen, and to pass the time I began stringing some rhymes together, Ingoldsby fashion, concerning the original legend of the place. A few I spoke aloud, but the echoes were not pleasant* For the same reason I also abandoned, after a time, a conversation with myself upon the impossibility of ghosts and haunting. My mind reverted to the three old and distorted people downstairs, and I tried to keep it upon that topic.
THE RED ROOM, Chapter Three.
Chapter Three. The door of the Red Room and the steps up to it were in a shadowy corner. I moved my candle from side to side in order to see clearly the nature of the recess in which I stood, before opening the door. Here it was, thought I, that my predecessor was found, and the memory of that story gave me a sudden twinge of apprehension. I glanced over my shoulder at the black Ganymede in the moonlight, and opened the door of the Red Room rather hastily, with my face half turned to the pallid silence of the corridor.