This one will be dedicated to a book’s page 69. I will post one or more sentences from the page that seem interesting/fun.
I started with this one in 2015 (May), and here is the backstory on how I got the idea: You all probably know that publishers often put something on the back to attract people. Something like turn to “insert page number”. Well, according to a writer’s 2006 book you should pick page 69 to determine if you want to read the book (Find Your Perfect Novel).
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Rule of the Wolves by Leigh Bardugo
Nikolai could have chosen to meet the enemy in the field, banners up, troops in plain sight. A show of force. It would have been the honorable thing, the brave thing. But Nikolai figured his soldiers were more interested in surviving than looking noble before the Fjerdans shot them full of holes, and he felt the same.
In the window overlooking the patio, the curtains rustle. Dad’s arm tenses around me; I know he saw it too. Someone – one of Kat’s parents – watching us, maybe, studying the words forming on our lips.
But when we make our way into the kitchen, it’s empty, silent except for the hum of the fridge. The floor tiles are gleaming white, not a trace of the mess that was there earlier.
The house in Oxford was beautiful in the morning. A long rectangle of sunlight cut into my bedroom and rested on the duvet. The Islip canvas in the guestroom was a river in motion and Ana had placed it behind the bed, facing the window, so that it was hard to tell what was the effect of the pain and what was the real light in the room. I kicked off the cover and stretched into the warm day. For a moment I imagined the house was mine, and empty. I would take a book from the study and spend the morning in the garden. There would be no need to talk to anybody all day.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See
As the sun set, we walked to the water’s edge, where Shaman Kim made offerings to the sea gods. “Release Sun-sil’s spirit,” she entreated. “Let her come back with me.” She tossed one end of a long piece of white cloth into the waves, then slowly hauled it in, bringing my mother’s spirit with it.
The next morning, the winds were violent, making it impossible to keep the candles lit. Today would be about release: for my mother to be released from this plane and for us to be released from our links to her and from our torments. we began with the same pattern of weeping, wailing, dancing, and chanting, until Shaman Kim finally asked us to sit. Around me, I saw faces filled with sadness but also excitement.
I was fourteen when Joel and Edwin left for university. Miserable at school, short-tempered with Danny at home, I began to dream of Joel returning and declaring he’d fallen love with me. I longed to leave the sneers of my classmates behind, and marry Joel, and live happily ever after with him at Summerbourne.
How I miss the days when love seemed so obvious and simple.
My fledgling romantic hopes were crushed a couple of weeks before my fifteenth birthday. I don’t relish revisiting that memory now, but it occurs to me for the first time that something Joel said that day might be linked in some way to what happened when Danny and I were born.
A minute later we’re back in the foyer, me watching as Charlie presses his formidable stomach against the floor. In his hand is a penshaped magnet stick, the end of which he lowers through the grate.
“I’m so sorry for this,” I say.
Charlie wiggles the stick. “Happens all the time. These grates are notorious. I think of them as monsters. They’ll eat up anything that comes their way.”
The comparison is apt. The longer I look at the heating vent, the more it resembles a dark maw just waiting to be fed.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ The Recovery of Rose Gold by Stephanie Wrobel
Sometimes I wonder whether Alex and I had anything besides a hometown in common anymore. We had been so compatible when we were little: making rollercoaster rides out of odd stuff around the house, pretending the living-room carpet was lava, hosting dog pageants with Alex’s Puppy In My Pocket toys. Friendships were easier when you were a kid.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ You Say It First by Katie Cotugno
“I rode, like, eleven different roller coasters,” she confessed, lying back on the mattress. She’d turned off all lights off except for the one beside her bed. “And I was doing fine until I got off number twelve, but then I wasn’t near a garbage can so I just panicked and barfed into the sleeve of my hoodie.” “You did not,” Colby said immediately. “I know,” she said, feeling weirdly pleased with herself. “I can tell by your voice that you think I’m too prissy to have done something so unladylike, but: desperate times.” “Clearly,” Colby said. “I think I underestimated you, Meg from WeCount.”
Friday’s Page 69 ~ The Tourist Attraction by Sarah Morgenthaler
Now for the record, Graham completely agreed with Zoey’s reaction. If he’d walked out of a forest and into a chainsaw, he’d be upset too.
The problem was, when she turned to run away, she’d been running toward the north side of the his property, making a beeline for a thirty-foot ravine. The chivalrous part of Graham’s nature would never willingly let someone fling themselves to their death on his property, especially when it was all based on a simple misunderstanding.
Unfortunately, it was hard to express agreement while dry retching into a welding mask, injured beyond all hope of recovery. As a person with hopes and dreams and the desire to someday father children, Graham knew better than to remain keeled over with a chainsaw beneath him, even on not running.
All in all, it was a dangerous time to be a man.
Rahul thought about screaming. It was a strange moment because screaming – well, you might think that’s something that you do straight away, as soon as you’re frightened. You don’t stop to think about it.
But actually Rahul – who was a thoughtful fellow – was thinking about it.