2011 Reading Challenge

Beanie has read 1 book toward her goal of 10 books.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

๑ Grab your current read
๑ Open to a random page
๑ Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
๑ Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

Soooo, here's mine:
"No, I know, I don't need that lecture. We're in a sort of cosmic baggie & the universe is spinning out of control, yada yada yada." 
- Spin (Robert Charles Wilson), pg. 90

I know, I know: I've posted this quote before. Well, it's that good (& I didn't want to ruin it for myself by skipping ahead for something different). =P

Sunday, February 6, 2011

From Spin

I feel like a neon sign on an empty building. All lit up but basically hollow.

The Weekend Creation Blog Hop

Just a post to let my readers know that I'm participating in a blog hop -- join in!

(You can click the image to the left to go to the original post & see the rules.)

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

From Spin

I said--belatedly, behind the buzz--"Is the world really so hard to look at?"

Giselle reached out & took back the joint. "From where I stand," she said, "yes. Mostly."

From Spin

"No, I know, I don't need the lecture. We're in a sort of cosmic baggie & the universe is spinning out of control, yada yada yada."

Note: I'm feeling quite saddened at the fact that this chapter is the first & probably the last that will contain the character Giselle Palmer. She reminds me of myself. :P

From Spin

The narcotics took effect while we drove. The night streets of Padang had a cavernous smell, of dank asphalt & rotting fish. Oil slicks parted like rainbows under the wheels of the cab. We left the neon-lit tourist district & entered the tangle of shops & housing that had grown around the city in the last thirty years, makeshift slums giving way to the new prosperity, bulldozers parked under tarps between tin-roofed shacks. High-rise tenements grew like mushrooms from a compost of squatters' fields. Then we passed through the factory zone, gray walled & razor wired, & I slept, I think, again.

From Spin

Not all delirium is bright & frantic. Sometimes it's slow, reptilian, cold-blooded. I watched shadows crawl like lizards up the walls of the hotel room. Blink, & an hour was gone.

From Spin

And eventually I fell asleep with the starlight burning through my eyelids, phosphorescent ghosts floating in the reddish dark.

From Spin

I spent an hour watching the balcony curtains move, watching sunlight angle up the visible leg of the Arch, daydreaming about the Seychelles.


Dreams, Diane once said, are metaphors gone feral. The reason I daydreamed about the Seychelles (I imagined her telling me) was because I felt submerged, ancient, almost extinct.

Like a drowning continent, awash in the prospect of my own transformation.

From Spin

I came to distrust even my most lucid moments. Just as often what I felt was a purely hallucinatory clarity, the world overbright & hyperdefined, words & memory cogged like gears in a runaway engine.