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Brian’s 2025 Year in Books
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Brian O'Hare
Goodreads Author
Born
in Pensacola, FL. , The United States
Website
Genre
Influences
Member Since
July 2020
Brian’s Recent Updates
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Brian O'Hare
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| What price the 'American Dream'? What sacrifices must we make of our culture, our families and of ourselves in pursuit of that dream? Paria Hassouri explores these questions in her debut novel, 'Harvesting Rosewater'—a captivating book brimming with ...more | |
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| Loved this book. Elizabeth's Bruce is a master story-teller, her writing full of humanity and compassion, but always with an 'edge'—reminiscent in many ways of the great Flannery O'Connor. These are stories of the most average of people, struggling t ...more | |
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| A singularly profane and hilarious coming-of-age story that lands like a sucker punch. The United States Marine Corps is a strange tribe, equal parts elite fighting force and religious cult. Cook brings his insiders knowledge (a once-upon-a-time Mari ...more | |
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“His head throbbed beyond mere headache. This went deeper. For a brief moment, as the tiny voices chattered, unintelligible—what were they saying?—Mad Mike felt a familiar panic surge within him. And though he told himself he'd never do it, he understood a .45 round as a solution—a messenger of peace, an exit. And that knowledge, that intimacy, terrified him. He felt strangely tired and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window. He wanted to shed his uniform, like a snake's skin, and to sleep for a very long time. A dim room. Clean sheets. The hum of an air conditioner. The touch of an understanding woman. Not even sexual—a mother maybe. And the realization all of that was so far away. He opened his eyes. It was all still here.”
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“His head throbbed beyond mere headache. This went deeper. For a brief moment, as the tiny voices chattered, unintelligible—what were they saying?—Mad Mike felt a familiar panic surge within him. And though he told himself he'd never do it, he understood a .45 round as a solution—a messenger of peace, an exit. And that knowledge, that intimacy, terrified him. He felt strangely tired and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool window. He wanted to shed his uniform, like a snake's skin, and to sleep for a very long time. A dim room. Clean sheets. The hum of an air conditioner. The touch of an understanding woman. Not even sexual—a mother maybe. And the realization all of that was so far away. He opened his eyes. It was all still here.”
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“These were the idiots shat out by West Point, turds in starched uniforms and glistening high-and-tight haircuts, shiny-foreheaded future corporate executives who used words like envisionment instead of vision.”
― Fobbit: A Novel
― Fobbit: A Novel