tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81336060905120283582011-07-31T03:51:59.127-07:00finding my way through booksHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.comBlogger81100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-79089567166038716552010-04-21T19:05:00.000-07:002011-01-23T03:22:57.760-08:00

"The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense."Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, 1813 first words"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-18503650201794222172010-04-21T17:24:00.000-07:002010-05-01T16:53:41.562-07:00

I've been on a re-reading kick lately.  Of course, from the few reviews I've managed to post on this blog it may be easy to assume that I usually re-read books, since two of the four are re-reads.  But it's actually something a rarely do.  Until lately.  I've discovered a certain adventure in reading over again a book I haven't read for ten years--it gives me a chance to meet myself as I used to

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-38469821132265616242010-04-13T00:13:00.000-07:002010-04-21T22:56:02.631-07:00

"...I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around--nobody big, I mean--except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff--I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-13131475278526842262010-02-08T14:54:00.000-08:002010-04-13T01:42:24.353-07:00

“I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.” The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, 2008 distinctions ~New York Times Bestseller, fiction, 2008 ~Time Magazine's Best Books of the Year, #7, fiction, 2008 ~Indies Book of the Year, adult fiction,

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-79299223698578366232010-01-23T10:00:00.000-08:002010-04-13T01:45:51.963-07:00

“It seems there is always a road with bends and forks to choose, and taking one path means you can never take another one. There’s no starting over nor undoing the steps I’ve taken. It isn’t like I’d want to.... It’s just that I want everything, my insides are not just hungry, but greedy. I want to find out all the things in the world and still have a family and a ranch.” These is My Words:

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-39275546349282324492010-01-22T23:20:00.000-08:002010-01-23T00:14:22.165-08:00

So I knew it was kind of silly to start this blog in November, right on the cusp of all the big holiday madness that chases out the year and consumes all my (oh so copious) discretionary time. But I just had to, since the idea for it wouldn’t let me think about much else. So I started it and promptly sat it in a corner, where it has waited patiently to go somewhere, like my 16-month-old who

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-30945073904685374102009-11-19T00:41:00.000-08:002010-04-25T15:09:48.562-07:00

"Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8133606090512028358.post-80082112713652699192009-11-17T03:00:00.000-08:002009-11-17T03:37:57.483-08:00

Welcome to my book blog!I've dithered over doing this for a while now. I feel like I don't read quite enough books to really be a book blogger. And I'm a little shy of the public aspect, of actually encouraging strangers to read what I've written (and even maybe act on what I've written). But probably my main reservation has been that I don't think I'm all that good at writing reviews, and there

Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07780716176071346576noreply@blogger.com15