Sad now:
RIP Arthur C. Clarke
(Cross-posted to Natter)
There's more to life than watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer! No. Really, there is! Honestly! Here's a place for Buffistas to come and discuss what it is they're reading, their favorite authors and poets. "Geez. Crack a book sometime."
RIP Arthur C. Clarke
Awwwww....
I'm going to have to re-acquire Roll of Thunder when I'm next home. I probably haven't read it in 20 years, but it was on repeat for quite a while. I can vividly recall the images of the land, structures and books (oh, the books) it drew in my mind. I wonder if they'd change. I have a clear impression of red dirt.
I don't know if it is just that I read them all at the same time and they are all oh the humanity, but Sadako, Return to Manzanar, a non-Anne Frank authored Anne Frank-book, a YA about someone named Liese during WW2, a YA about deportation to the Steppes during Stalinism and The Great Gilly Hopkins all share a common area in my head.
With few exceptions, I can't put anything down, no matter how upsetting or unsettling the story.
Probably took me a box of kleenex and liters of water to get through Four Spirits. (Fictional novel wrapped around the 16th Street Church bombing in B'ham .)
I've never read Roll of Thunder. There was another book that hit me hard, though ... and of course I can't remember the name of it now. Something about the redfern? Or the lilies?
Damn it. I have to Google now. Ah! Where the Lilies Bloom was the title.
Ah, The Endless Steppe .
There's also Where the Red Fern Grows but that's about dogs.
Amy, I remember that one too! Appalachia, poverty and orphans. With the mentally challenged sister, right?
Yes! Damn, now I want to reread all of these books. Aimee, you want me to do your homework for you?
And Laga, Where the Redfern Grows was the title I was conflating with Lilies.
Yeah, me too. I'm mentally combing the bookshelf in my old bedroom. I know exactly where I put some of those books when I moved out.
About ten years ago, I designed the costumes for The Diary of Anne Frank. I read so many books about the Holacaust, and in particular young people, that I completely made myself sick with grief. To the point that I still have recurring Holocaust dreams. Then I realized that there was literally nothing I could do about history and I had learned enough that I hope I would be able to fight against something like that in the future. And so I am no longer able to read about the Holocaust, and I may be missing some good books, but I am OK with that to spare my mental health.