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Maryjmetz is now friends with Kathleen Cubley
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Maryjmetz rated a book 1 of 5 stars
Dust by Martha Grimes
Dust (Richard Jury, #21)
by Martha Grimes (Goodreads Author)
read in February, 2014
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Maryjmetz wants to read
Flora and Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo
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Maryjmetz made a comment on their review of Bleak House
31242
"Oh, it's probably worth more. Sometimes I feel like I'm too easy a grader and then I start giving too *few* stars. I'd make it a 7 on a 10-star scale. "
Maryjmetz rated a book 4 of 5 stars
Dr. Thorne by Anthony Trollope
Dr. Thorne
by Anthony Trollope
read in December, 2013
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Maryjmetz rated a book 5 of 5 stars
The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken
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I just reread this book yet again--probably forty years after I read it for the first time. It is amazing how good it still is. It's exciting, well-written, and fun. The young protagonists are plucky and brave without being saccharine or unbearable....more
Maryjmetz rated a book 3 of 5 stars
Bleak House by Charles Dickens
Bleak House
by Charles Dickens
read in January, 2014
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Maryjmetz made a comment on their status in Bleak House
31242
"I've read it before so, yes, I recommend. But then, I almost always like Dickens. "
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Bleak House by Charles Dickens
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Maryjmetz rated a book 4 of 5 stars
Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope
Framley Parsonage
by Anthony Trollope
read in January, 2014
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More of Maryjmetz's books…
Anthony Trollope
“They had not been long there before Lord Dumbello did group himself. "Fine day," he said, coming up and occupying the vacant position by Miss Grantly's elbow.
"We were driving to-day and we thought it rather cold," said Griselda.
"Deuced cold," said Lord Dumbello, and then he adjusted his white cravat and touched up his whiskers. Having got so far, he did not proceed to any other immediate conversational efforts; nor did Griselda. But he grouped himself again as became a marquis, and gave very intense satisfaction to Mrs. Proudie.
"This is so kind of you, Lord Dumbello," said that lady, coming up to him and shaking his hand warmly; "so very kind of you to come to my poor little tea-party."
"Uncommonly pleasant, I call it," said his lordship. "I like this sort of thing--no trouble, you know."
"No; that is the charm of it: isn't it? no trouble or fuss, or parade. That's what I always say. According to my ideas, society consists in giving people facility for an interchange of thoughts--what we call conversation."
"Aw, yes, exactly."
"Not in eating and drinking together--eh, Lord Dumbello? And yet the practice of our lives would seem to show that the indulgence of those animal propensities can alone suffice to bring people together. The world in this has surely made a great mistake."
"I like a good dinner all the same," said Lord Dumbello.
"Oh, yes, of course--of course. I am by no means one of those who would pretend to preach that our tastes have not been given to us for our enjoyment. Why should things be nice if we are not to like them?"
"A man who can really give a good dinner has learned a great deal," said Lord Dumbello, with unusual animation.
"An immense deal. It is quite an art in itself; and one which I, at any rate, by no means despise. But we cannot always be eating -- can we?"
"No," said Lord Dumbello, "not always." And he looked as though he lamented that his powers should be so circumscribed.”
Anthony Trollope

Julian Barnes
That's the real distinction between people: not between those who have secrets and those who don't, but between those who want to know everything and those who don't. This search is a sign of love, I maintain.
It's similar with books. Not quite the same, of course (it never is); but similar. If you quite enjoy a writer's work, if you turn the page approvingly yet
don't mind being interrupted, then you tend to like that author unthinkingly. Good chap, you assume. Sound fellow. They say he strangled an entire pack of Wolf Cubs and fed their bodies to a school of carp? Oh no, I'm sure he didn't; sound fellow, good chap. But if you love a writer, if you depend upon the drip-feed of his intelligence, if you want to pursue him and find him -- despite edicts to the contrary -- then it's impossible to know too much. You seek the vice as well. A pack of Wolf Cubs, eh? Was that twenty-seven or twenty-eight? And did he have their little scarves sewn up into a patchwork quilt? And is it true that as he ascended the scaffold he quoted from the Book of Jonah? And that he bequeathed his carp pond to the local Boy Scouts?
But here's the difference. With a lover, a wife, when you find the worst -- be it infidelity or lack of love, madness or the suicidal spark -- you are almost relieved. Life is as I thought it was; shall we now celebrate this disappointment? With a writer you love, the instinct is to defend. This is what I meant earlier: perhaps love for a writer is the purest, the steadiest form of love. And so your defense comes the more easily. The fact of the matter is, carp are an endangered species, and everyone knows that the only diet they will accept if the winter has been especially harsh and the spring turns wet before St Oursin's Day is that of young minced Wolf Cub. Of course he knew he would hang for the offense, but he also knew that humanity is not an endangered species, and reckoned therefore that twenty-seven (did you say twenty-eight?) Wolf Cubs plus one middle-ranking author (he was always ridiculously modest about his talents) were a trivial price to pay for the survival of an entire breed of fish. Take the long view: did we need so many Wolf Cubs? They would only have grown up and become Boy Scouts. And if you're still so mired in sentimentality, look at it this way: the admission fees so far received from visitors to the carp pond have already enabled the Boy Scouts to build and maintain several church halls in the area.

Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

Marcel Proust
“Well, how could a reader notice that? There may be something lacking there I admit. But heavens above, they ought to count themselves lucky! It's full enough of good things as it is, far more than they usually get.”
Marcel Proust

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The Breakaway by Michelle D. Argyle
YA Abuse with New Love
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