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Erik’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Erik’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Erik Storey’s Followers (118)
3,043 books
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787 friends
3,715 books
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1,282 friends
27,757 books
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1,990 friends
2,754 books
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362 friends
2,057 books
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70 friends
847 books
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85 friends
2,589 books
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1,783 friends
6,370 books
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596 friends
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Erik Storey
Goodreads Author
Born
in Cody, Wyoming
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
September 2014
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Nothing Short of Dying (Clyde Barr, #1)
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published
2016
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31 editions
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A Promise to Kill (Clyde Barr, #2)
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published
2017
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15 editions
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Gather at the River: Twenty-Five Authors on Fishing
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published
2019
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2 editions
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Untitled Erik Storey
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To Hell with Dante
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published
2014
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Intet mindre end døden: Clyde Barr #1
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Erik’s Recent Updates
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Erik
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"the biggest boldest pieceofshit pulpedout ridiculous shitshow of a novel I've come across. ever. i love it.
here’s the deal: an effete bookworm gets on a boat that crashes just off the san fransiscan coast and is scooped out of the water and brought " Read more of this review » |
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Erik
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“In the rearview mirror I could see the tired old ball of atoms settle down in its bed of rocks and sand, pulling its pink-and-red blankets over its head, then finally turning off the light.”
― Nothing Short of Dying
― Nothing Short of Dying
“The place smelled of piss and mildew and stale beer. There was something else, too: the acrid sweat of the strung out—a smell that reminded me of the little cantinas in Bolivia where people in the coca trade use booze to come down from the powder cloud that gets them through the long shifts. If broken souls had an odor, they’d smell like the Cellar. A single bar on the right ran the entire length of the building: twelve bar stools, five occupied by men. And to the left of the bar was a group of tables, one of which propped up three people—two women and a guy—who looked like they were passed out. The bartender, a good-looking young woman with a ponytail, was yelling at a man whose elbows were propped on the bar. He stomped outside after the reaming, and I headed toward his abandoned seat. The”
― Nothing Short of Dying
― Nothing Short of Dying
“The place smelled of piss and mildew and stale beer. There was something else, too: the acrid sweat of the strung out—a smell that reminded me of the little cantinas in Bolivia where people in the coca trade use booze to come down from the powder cloud that gets them through the long shifts. If broken souls had an odor, they’d smell like the Cellar. A”
― Nothing Short of Dying
― Nothing Short of Dying
Topics Mentioning This Author
| topics | posts | views | last activity | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Aussie Lovers of...: Brenda's 2016 Challenge - Goal-80 plus | 78 | 50 | Aug 26, 2016 03:35AM | |
| Anyone there other than Jack Reacher? | 13 | 197 | Sep 01, 2016 06:32PM | |
| Aussie Readers: Brenda's 2016 challenges | 59 | 87 | Sep 15, 2016 12:09AM | |
The Seasonal Read...:
Completed Tasks: PLEASE DO NOT DELETE ANY POST IN THIS THREAD
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2555 | 480 | Nov 30, 2016 09:00PM | |
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NetGalley Readers:
Books read in 2016 - Target 50,000
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1059 | 431 | Jan 12, 2017 01:11PM | |
| Retro Chapter Chi...: The 100 Challenge 2017 | 28 | 49 | Nov 27, 2017 02:58PM | |
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Aussie Lovers of...:
Currently reading/Just finished! CLOSED
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7094 | 744 | Dec 31, 2019 07:03PM |
“And this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything. I would not change it.”
― As You Like It
― As You Like It
“Now I dream of the soft touch of women, the songs of birds, the smell of soil crumbling between my fingers, and the brilliant green of plants that I diligently nurture. I am looking for land to buy and I will sow it with deer and wild pigs and birds and cottonwoods and sycamores and build a pond and the ducks will come and fish will rise in the early evening light and take the insects into their jaws. There will be paths through this forest and you and I will lose ourselves in the soft curves and folds of the ground. We will come to the water’s edge and lie on the grass and there will be a small, unobtrusive sign that says, THIS IS THE REAL WORLD, MUCHACHOS, AND WE ARE ALL IN IT.—B. TRAVEN. . . .”
― Blood Orchid: An Unnatural History of America
― Blood Orchid: An Unnatural History of America
“I am by nature a person suspicious of the economic machine that feeds me. And yet I am a captive of that economic machine, and my mind is structured by its lessons and demands. I consume its wealth with zest. I drive a truck, watch a color television, and write on a computer, but I cannot overcome the feeling that these objects and the industrial culture that produced them are temporary things, a kind of fat beast feeding on the bounty of the earth that will starve to death within the next century, or at least be severely diminished.”
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“I live in a time of fear and the fear is not of war or weather or death or poverty or terror. The fear is of life itself. The fear is of tomorrow, a time when things do not get better but become worse. This is the belief of my time. I do not share it. The numbers of people will rise, the pain of migration will grow, the seas will bark forth storms, the bombs will explode in the markets, and mouths fighting for a place at the table will grow, as will the shouting and shoving. That is a given. Once the given is accepted, fear is pointless. The fear comes from not accepting it, from turning aside one's head, from dreaming in the fort of one's home that such things cannot be. The fear comes from turning inward and seeking personal salvation. The bones must be properly buried, amends must be made. Also, the beasts must be acknowledged. And the weather faced, the winds and rains lashing the face, still, they must be faced. So too, the dry ground screaming for relief. There is an industry peddling solutions, and these solutions insist no one must really change, except perhaps a little, and without pain. This is the source of the fear, this refusal to accept the future that is already here. In the Old Testament, the laws insist we must not drink blood, that the flesh must be properly drained or we will be outcasts from the Lord. They say these rules were necessary for clean living in some earlier time. I swallow the blood, all the bloods. I am that outlaw, the one crossing borders. The earlier time is over.”
― Some of the Dead Are Still Breathing: Living in the Future
― Some of the Dead Are Still Breathing: Living in the Future