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Clay’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Clay’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Clay Anderson’s Followers (91)
979 books
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1,569 friends
284 books
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4,243 friends
1,549 books
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157 friends
71 books
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4,870 friends
551 books
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170 friends
1,178 books
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88 friends
894 books
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56 friends
874 books
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59 friends
More friends…
Clay Anderson
Goodreads Author
Born
in The United States
Website
Twitter
Genre
Influences
Cormac McCarthy, William Gay, Harry Crews
Member Since
June 2020
More books by Clay Anderson…
Clay’s Recent Updates
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Clay Anderson
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Clay Anderson
is currently reading
Lucky Day
by Chuck Tingle (Goodreads Author) Goodreads Choice Awards Nominee in Readers' Favorite Horror |
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Clay Anderson
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Clay Anderson
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Clay Anderson
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| Nice fit. Especially with the short story | |
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Clay Anderson
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Clay Anderson
rated a book liked it
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| It was okay. Kinda slow. Wouldve been better with an older gal. Maybe 13 or so. So she could really understand the revenge aspect, but young enough to remain innocent | |
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Clay Anderson
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Clay Anderson
is currently reading
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Clay Anderson
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| Wow. What a gut punch of a story. I loved it so much | |
“I tried to search out God’s hand in everything. Every tragedy I wanted to find the almighty’s reason for it being so. Yet, after many years, I concluded that there was no motive behind the good or bad things that befall mankind. There was no other course. Retracing those steps will just lead to the confirmation that our life is purely made of chaotic events strung together.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“She let the tears come. Anna wept in the way of an only and lonely child, because now, that was what she was. An acolyte of some new order. The fellowship of the damned. As above, so below. This was the ending of a cycle. All closing in. The sanctity was inchoate. Anna let the images of all she’d done and lost pass before her. She grieved her griefs. At long last, they came.”
― Though I Walk
― Though I Walk
“She returned to numbness and despair. Life as it really was. A shrinking world of waiting terrors followed by nameless oblivion. The animate life of the Palms left her encumbered with the fact that she’d have to return to the crack house in the morning. Everything gnarled and black in her heart. Clara turned down seventh street. She heard the sounds of Joe snorting a bump of meth and the terrible rattling tick from deep in the car’s engine. She hoped for a message or warning in the tableau but was left wanting, as always.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“I tried to search out God’s hand in everything. Every tragedy I wanted to find the almighty’s reason for it being so. Yet, after many years, I concluded that there was no motive behind the good or bad things that befall mankind. There was no other course. Retracing those steps will just lead to the confirmation that our life is purely made of chaotic events strung together.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“What happened? I got into a disagreement with some pretty bad guys over the ownership of my jail commissary. They were pretty adamant that it should be theirs. I thought differently. Some words were said. One decided that he wanted to see what my insides looked like.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“She returned to numbness and despair. Life as it really was. A shrinking world of waiting terrors followed by nameless oblivion. The animate life of the Palms left her encumbered with the fact that she’d have to return to the crack house in the morning. Everything gnarled and black in her heart. Clara turned down seventh street. She heard the sounds of Joe snorting a bump of meth and the terrible rattling tick from deep in the car’s engine. She hoped for a message or warning in the tableau but was left wanting, as always.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“Life is nothing but what you make of it. The past can own you, but only if you give it that right. Most people are unaware that you can say no.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
“He remembered those countless nights staring at the irrevocable concrete and wishing he might will himself beyond the dungeon. Yet, the evocative beseeching for God never reached beyond the guard towers. Mechanistic accretions that eroded in the ether and died shortly after the moment of conception. This world incubated and full of things that you have no control over. Windless air in the tomb that perpetually stank of a milieu of filthy men and toxic bleach. That was now gone. Finally, Ronnie had what he prayed for those many nights. A plan that was based off more than the basic human contingencies. A reason to live that was outside of himself.”
― The Palms: A novel
― The Palms: A novel
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