Category: Tuesday Intros

Every Tuesday Vicki at I'd Rather Be At the Beach hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph, Tuesday Intros, where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. Mine comes from Macbeth by Jo Nesbø. The shiny raindrop fell from the sky, through the darkness, towards the shivering lights of the port below. Cold gusting north-westerlies drove the raindrop over the dried-up riverbed that divided the town lengthwise and the disused railway line that divided it diagonally. The four quadrants of the town were numbered clockwise; beyond that they had no name. No name the inhabitants remembered anyway. And if you me those same inhabitants a long way from home and asked them where they came from they were likely to maintain they couldn't remember the name of the town either. The raindrop went from shiny to grey as it penetrated the soot and poison that lay like a constant lid of mist over the town despite...

Every Tuesday Vicki at I'd Rather Be At the Beach hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph, Tuesday Intros, where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. Mine comes from The Last Cruise by Kate Christensen. It doesn't come out until July. As Christine walked out of the air-conditioned terminal into the balmy, sweet air of Southern California, she inhaled sharply and started to laugh. She might as well have traveled to another planet. It was summer here. The air vibrated with sunlight. Bits of mica glinted in the pavement, making it sparkle. She walked through clumps of people with deep tans wearing shorts and sandals. when she looked down to steer her luggage cart over the curb, she caught a glimpse of the winter pallor of her own skin, dead white. The cabbie helped her stow everything in his trunk. "You brought everything, I guess." "I'm going on a cruise," she told him, trying...

Every Tuesday Vicki at I'd Rather Be At the Beach hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph, Tuesday Intros, where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. Mine comes from The Pot Thief Who Studied Edward Abbey by J. Michael Orenduff. Life imitates art - but badly.   - Edward Abbey According to the brochure, the process began with the model totally naked. She smeared herself from head to toe with alginate, a slimy material made - as the name suggests - from algae. The alginate served three purposes. First, it retained the finest details of the surface once it dries. Second, it allowed the cast to be removed from the model without pulling away skin and hair. And finally, it insulated the model from the heat given off by drying plaster. An assistant to the art professor covered the alginate with several layers of overlapping gauze swatches. Those initial layers of gauze were DayGlo green so...

Every Tuesday Vicki at I'd Rather Be At the Beach hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph, Tuesday Intros, where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. Mine comes from Death by Dumpling by Vivien Chien. You know in the movies where someone says "You can't fire me, I quit!" . . . maybe don't do that in real life. Unless you don't mind working as a server in your parents' Chinese restaurant for the rest of you life. Turns out finding a new job wasn't as easy as I thought and my portion of the rent wasn't going to pay itself. My roommate and best friend, Megan Riley, didn't have the extra funds to cover my half of the bills, so there was no time to waste being "in between jobs." And to top it off, those pesky credit card people kept calling me day and night. Without any other options readily available and...

Every Tuesday Vicki at I'd Rather Be At the Beach hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph, Tuesday Intros, where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. Mine comes from Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith. The train tore along with an angry, irregular rhythm. It was having to stop at smaller and more frequent stations, where it would wait impatiently for a moment, then attack the prairie again. But progress was imperceptible. The prairie only undulated, like a vast, pink-tan blanket being casually shaken. The faster the train went, the more bouyant and taunting the undulations. Guy took his eyes from the window and hitched himself back against the seat. Miriam would delay the divorce at best, he thought. She might not even want a divorce, only money. Would there really ever be a divorce from her?...