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Crash Into Me
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by Robinne Lee (Goodreads Author)
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Lonely Crowds
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by Stephanie Wambugu (Goodreads Author)
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Dog Days
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Chuck Palahniuk
“What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

Gustave Flaubert
“Before her marriage she had thought that she had love within her grasp; but since the happiness which she had expected this love to bring her hadn’t come, she supposed she must have been mistaken. And Emma tried to imagine just what was meant, in life, by the words “bliss,” “passion,” and “rapture” - words that had seemed so beautiful to her in books.”
Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

Cormac McCarthy
“She smiled and sipped from her glass. There was altogether too much of her sitting there, the broad expanse of thigh cradled in the insubstantial stocking and the garters with the pale flesh pursed and her full breasts and the sootblack piping of her eyelids, a gaudish rake of metaldust in prussian blue where cerulean moths fluttered her awake from some outlandish dream. Suttree gradually going awash in the sheer outrageous sentience of her. Their glasses clicked on the tabletop. Her hot spiced tongue fat in his mouth and her hands all over him like the very witch of fuck.”
Cormac McCarthy, Suttree

Gabriel García Márquez
“It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.”
Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Joan Didion
“He ran his fingers over the moist ends of her hair and across her face. Her eyes were wet. Jesus Christ. How many nights had he heard Lily crying. As some parents sleep through fire, thunderstorms, and voices at the back door only to wake at a child’s whisper, so Everett heard Lily crying at night. Her muffled sobs seemed to have broken his dreams for years. He had heard her even at Fort Lewis, even in Georgia, finally at Bliss. That was Lily crying in the wings whenever the priest came to tear up his mother’s grave. Lily cried in the twilight field where he picked wild poppies with Martha; Lily’s was the cry he heard those nights the kiln burned, the levee broke, the ranch went to nothing.”
Joan Didion, Run River

3183 Tournament of Books — 2371 members — last activity Sep 14, 2026 11:36AM
This book group was established for those interested in participating in The Morning News's Tournament of Books. Please do not feel the need to finish ...more
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25x33 2019 Dream Team — 8 members — last activity Jan 27, 2019 10:44AM
The 2019 curated list!
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