I have been memed, and its a good one. The meme comes from Almost Diamonds, and here’s the rules:
– You can pick and choose the books to find the most interesting sentences.
– At least five of the books should be fiction.
– Try not to use books that are so obscure no one could guess what they are.
– You can give hints, if you so desire.
– Tag some other bloggers to pass the meme along.
– You find and print, on your best available keyboard, the fifth sentence on page 56.
Hmm… this rules out a lot of my fiction books, since they are under 56 pages long…..
OK, here we go:
The first three are from the same author. This is a living male author whom I’ve mentioned on this blog. If you’ve read this person’s work, the second passage is a dead-easy clue, and of course, the third names a character so that should give it to you if you remember such things.
Her reverie was interrupted by footsteps on the sidewalk across the street.
Talking about all those brand-new wheelchairs.
Decker didn’t know what this giant fruitcake was up to, but a boat ride sure beat hell out of an all-night divorce surveillance.
The next three are each from a different author. The first is very very famous, female, and this may be her least famous (and my least favorite of hers) book. It is also her last book or nearly so, if I remember. Real literary folks do not admit they’ve read her work. The second is a prize winning classic American author who was famously gay and the book is perhaps his most well known work. Readl literary folks claim to have read all his work even if they have not. The third author is actually a pseudonym written by two brothers.
“So you’ve heard that term before,” she said. “I see.”
A cork bulletin board, painted pink, hung above a white-skirted dressing table; dry gardenias, the remains of some ancient corsage, were attached to it, and old valentines, newspaper recipes, and snapshots of her baby nephew and of Susan Kidwell and of Hobby Rupp, Bobby caught in a dozen actions — swinging a boat, dribbling a basketball, driving a tractor, wading, in bathing trunks, at the edge of McKinney Lake (which was as far as he dared go, for he had never learned to swim).
But why haul a chair over here to reach a cup-hilted Italian rapier of the seventeenth century when you have merely to stand on the floor and extend your arm and reach a nineteenth-century French dueling-sword which will do the work equally well?
OK, so any guesses?
Here’s who I’m tagging: