What is everyone reading now and/or read lately

[Thor827]

Currently reading A Storm of Swords, which is the 3rd book of A Song of ICe and Fire series from author George R.R. Martin. The books are featured on a series from HBO called A Game of Thrones.

Excellent reading if your in to midieval/fantasy books.

I'm currently reading the first book in this series and it's fantastic. I'm not much of a sci fi/ fantasy fan, but the show made me curious and now I'm hooked.

Other than that, I'm reading Vengeance here and I'm still following Adrian's Undead Diary. Both of these have me on the edge of my seat.

[Sparrow]

This is one of my favorite books:



You can download the full txt in PDF here:



Beautiful, sometimes tragic stories of a home that was built and the people who lived there over a span of about 100 years. These stories Hoffman write are very sentimental with beautiful prose which both inspire and help those who read them to be better people, and love and appreciate those around you.

From the first chapter ...
_________________

I.

IT WAS SAID THAT BOYS SHOULD GO ON
their first sea voyage at the age of ten, but surely this notion was
never put forth by anyone's mother. If the bay were to be raised one
degree in temperature for every woman who had lost the man or child she
loved at sea, the water would have boiled, throwing off steam even in
the dead of winter, poaching the bluefish and herrings as they swam.
Every May, the women in town gathered at the wharf. No matter how
beautiful the day, scented with new grass or spring onions, they found
themselves wishing for snow and ice, for gray November, for December's
gales and land-locked harbors, for fleets that returned, safe and
sound, all hands accounted for, all boys grown into men. Women who had
never left Massachusetts dreamed of the Middle Banks and the Great
Banks the way some men dreamed of hell: The place that could give you
everything you might need and desire. The place that could take it all
away.

This year the fear of what might be was worse than ever, never mind
gales and storms and starvation and accidents, never mind rum and
arguments and empty nets. This year the British had placed an embargo
on the ships of the Cape. No one could go in or out of the harbor,
except unlawfully, which is what the fishermen in town planned to do
come May, setting off on moonless nights, a few sloops at a time, with
the full knowledge that every man caught would be put to death for
treason and every boy would be sent to Dartmoor Prison in England as
good as death, people in town agreed, but colder and some said more
miserable.

Most people made their intentions known right away, those who would go
and those who would stay behind to man the fort beside Long Pond if
need be, a battle station that was more of a cabin than anything, but
at least it was something solid to lean against should a man have to
take aim and fire. John Hadley was among those who wanted to stay He
made that clear, and everyone knew he had his reasons. He had just
finished the little house in the hollow that he'd been working on with
his older son, Vincent, for nearly three years. During this time, John
Hadley and Vincent had gone out fishing each summer, searching out
bluefish and halibut, fish large enough so that you could fill up your
catch in a very short time. John's sloop was small, his desires were
few: he wanted to give his wife this house, nothing fancy, but
carefully made all the same, along with the acreage around it, a meadow
filled with wild grapes and winterberry. Wood for building was hard to
come by, so John had used old wrecked boats for the joists, deadwood
he'd found in the shipyard, and when there was none of that to be had,
he used fruit wood he'd culled from his property, though people
insisted apple wood and pear wouldn't last. There was no glass in the
windows, only oiled paper, but the light that came through was dazzling
and yellow; little flies buzzed in and out of the light, and everything
seemed slow, molasses slow, lovesick slow.