1. Choose five of your all time favorite books.
2. Take the first sentence of the first chapter and make a list in your journal.
3. Don't reveal the author or the title of the book.
4. Now everyone try and guess.
1) Abishag the Shunammite washes her hands, powders her arms, removes her robe, and approaches my bed to lie down on top of me. -- God Knows, by Joseph Heller
2) The Brangwens had lived for generations on the Marsh Farm, in the meadows where the Erewash twisted sluggishly through alder trees, separating Derbyshire from Nottinghamshire. -- The Rainbow, by D.H. Lawrence
3) At the age of fifteen my grandmother became the concubine of a warlord general, the police chief of a tenuous national government of China. -- Wild Swans, by Jung Chang; identified by anonypooh
4) My dear Mark,
Today I went to see my physician Hermogenes, who has just returned to the Villa from a rather long journey in Asia. -- Memoirs of Hadrian, by Marguerite Yourcenar
5) 'I have been here before,' I said; I had been there before; first with Sebastian more than twenty years ago on a cloudless day in June, when the ditches were creamy with meadowsweet and the air heavy with all the scents of summer; it was a day of peculiar splendour, and though I had been there so often, in so many moods, it was to that first visit that my heart returned on this, my latest. -- Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh; identified by meko00
I can't imagine my life without books. Ever since I first learned my letters at age 5, it has been my favourite pastime to read, something I'll enjoy doing any time, any place, anywhere. I always carry a book in my purse (currently, that would be Bill Bryson's Notes From A Big Country), and browsing through bookshops and libraries easily qualifies as the most satisfying time I can spend anywhere. Drop me in a strange town, and I'll check out the local bookshop before I'll go anywhere else...unless I run into an interesting-looking shoe shop first, of course.
I can never part with my books, either; and I hate having to lend them because so often, I don't get them back without having to nag the borrower for them, or I don't get them back at all. I know that eight years after having asked to borrow it, Timo still keeps possession of my copy of Susan Sontag's The Volcano Lover, and Chris still hasn't returned The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield, and it's been more than a decade! (But that's okay, he can keep it; it was a load of tosh, anyway).
So when I go and see my Dad in the home that he is in, sometimes I look around me and I get scared that that'll be me in 30 years, living somewhere where there are no books, where there is no room for a bookcase in your private quarters, and where there's no intellectual stimulation of any kind. Really, I think I'd rather be dead.