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The Invention of ...
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by Gwendolyn Kiste (Goodreads Author)
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Night of the Mann...
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by Stephen Graham Jones (Goodreads Author)
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Carmilla
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See all 9 books that Justin ••• is reading…
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Osamu Dazai
“A farmhouse was blazing away right before us. It took an incredibly long time to burn to the ground. One could almost see the history of that house going up in flames along with its roof and pillars.”
Osamu Dazai, Early Light
tags: war

Anton Chekhov
“When I lie in the grass and look for a long time at a bug that was born yesterday and doesn't understand anything, it seems to me that its whole life consists of nothing but horror, and I see myself in it... I'm frightened mainly by the common place, which none of us can escape from. I'm unable to tell what in my actions is true or false, and they bother me; I'm aware that the conditions of life and my upbringing confined me to a narrow circle of lies, and that my whole life is nothing but a daily worry about deceiving myself and others and not noticing it, and I'm frightened by the thought that till death I won't get out of this lie.”
Anton Chekhov, Fifty-Two Stories

Tahar Ben Jelloun
“So I had to... I had to leave my country, my family, and first become the wife of a charming person, then by sheer chance meet Nazim--an immigrant or exile (I still don't know which) and a real man--for me to not only escape my sad story, but also experience love, true love, the one that gives you shivers, staggers you, makes you vulnerable, transparent, ready for anything. I hadn't known that state in which the body, when it is so desired and so well loved, climbs to the heights and gazes out over the city with an appetite for trying everything, for consuming and embracing everything.”
Tahar Ben Jelloun, Leaving Tangier

Yūko Tsushima
“Conceivably, though, the sea might have filtered into her body over the years in tiny fragments like the parts of a picture puzzle which, while she'd never identified the whole, had pieced themselves together as the sea in all its sparkling radiance. An internal sea. Untouched by anyone...

Having drunk too much, the mother was beginning to drift off with the sound of the children's high-pitched voices in her ears.

Fragments of the sea... Could she trace the matrix into which she'd fitted them all the way back to the flood of light she'd experienced at the moment of birth? The light was pain. She didn't actually remember that time, of course. She'd thought she was reminded of it when she heard the first cries of her own children: yes, she'd thought then, it was painful and dazzling, and I couldn't help crying. With every cry I was longing to accustom myself to the flood of light. But before my body had time to adjust, the light had ceased to exist as light. Perhaps what I was seeing was the brightness of the internal sea? My mother's sea.

There were other memories. The tale of the Little Mermaid she'd come across in a foreign picture book. Though it would never have occurred to her to see herself in the person of the lovely little princess, she'd been haunted by the idea that perhaps she had been present herself, somewhere in the deeps where the princess lived. She sensed the sea's wan bluish gleam in the Little Mermaid's sobs.”
Yūko Tsushima, The Shooting Gallery

Claire North
“My dad was blown up by a tank in Poland, but he left us the car. You want a ride?”
Claire North, The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August

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