Every Tuesday, Diane at
Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first
paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the
image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
It's almost the shortest day of the year, so maybe it's time for this book:
The Book of Summers by Emylia Hall. Here's the intro from the First Chapter:
Friday morning began as English summer mornings often do, with a shy but rising sun and wisps of cloud that were blown away by breakfast. My father was visiting, so I should hvae known it was never going to be an ordinary day, despite its early promise. It was the first time that he was seeing my London home for himself, and I was no newcomer to the city. I was seventeen when I decided on art college, and with the utter resolution that it had to be London. I wanted to lose myself, and it seemed just the place in which to be lost. I can remember the day I left home twelve years ago, my father standing by the car in the train-station parking lot, one gnarled hand raised in farewell, the other already feeling in his pocket for his keys. Then the put-put of the exhaust as he passed me at the station entrance, how he didn't see me that time, for he was hunched over the steering wheel like someone who was already late. I watched him go, the only family I had.
Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays. Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme,
hosted by MizB of
Should Be Reading. Anyone
can play along! Open to a random page of your current read and share a teaser
sentence from somewhere on that page. BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! Share
the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to
their TBR Lists if they like your teasers.
Here's mine from page 50:
I've always believed that it was at the szalonna party that my mother decided she wanted to stay on in Hungary. That her life should be there, not at home in Harkham with us. Because afterward, life at the lake house seemed to alter its course. There were still the swimming trips, the lounging in rickety deck chairs beneath the spread of the pine trees, the hot and dusty walks to the shop to buy giant watermelons and packets of cherry sherbets. But there was something else in the air.
This book sounds a little sad, but I think I'll keep going. What do you think?
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