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http://shouldbereading.wordpress.com "She didn't see him, so he let her browse. Book browsing had its own set of rules, of course. It was a contemplative pursuit, and he was trying to learn when to reel in a paying customer and when to reel out...Two hours later, Irene McGraw was still sitting on the floor in the Children's section, books strewn about in a bright sea of color. For the first time since he'd known her, she appeared...what? Relaxed. Comfortable."

I finished The Autobiography of An Ex-Colored Man by John Weldon Johnson. Also finished Jasmine Skies by Sita Brahmachari. Now, I want to get well into Somewhere Safe With Somebody Good by Jan Karon. Also, want to continue with What I Know For Sure by Oprah Winfrey. It has one of those pretty silken marks. Mine is like golden bronze. I wish all books had those pretty attached bookmarks. http://bookjourney.wordpress.com

No matter how far away people live or travel from one another they remain connected to one another. Our past, our present and our future seem to fight against the idea that people should remain apart from one another to build a tiny more personal world with people like themselves. When Mira travels from America to India to visit her Indian relatives, she feels an immediate connection. She feels the keen desire to flow backward into the pasts of her loved ones who seem no longer close to one another. So she secretly takes a bundle of her mother's letters from a relative, Anjali., all the way to India with her. Although she stays with her super energetic cousin, Priya, she feels an immediate moment by moment connection to Janu. He seems her soul mate. Janu seems more like the old India while Priya is definitely a part of modern India with her short, pink spiked hair and her lack of desire to wear a sari. Priya kept me grounded through the novel. Perhaps, she kept Mira grounded

This is a Negro man's narrative. It's about his desire to succeed in a society where the color of the skin is more important than honesty or any other character value of life. As he journeys through life from the North to the South in the United States, he faces a hard dilemma. Should he choose to help his Negro brother fight a struggle to prove himself human and intelligent, or should he fight only for himself by making money, owning power and societal connections? He can always say the choice was made for the good of his family. When he sees a man burnt alive, he changes his name and grows a mustache. Then, he goes back to New York. to make his living. The autobiography is brilliantly put together whether you choose to despise this man or choose to believe he was what he was, a flawed man who made decisions that seemed right at the time for him. In the end, it's a whole society being examined on the glass slide under the microscope and not the

Magpies are birds of http://www.bermudaonion.net the corvidae family, including the black and white Eurasian magpie, which is one of the few animal species known to be able to recognize itself in a mirror test. "All I can think of is how embarrassing it would be if Janu came back to find me in his room. I'd feel like a magpie stealing into his nest."

"This was the house of your grandfather and your greatgrandparents," says Janu. "I come here sometimes to look at the carving on the door. The finest example in this area. I study it and try to make my own carving beautiful like this." The tears well up with no warning. To be standing outside the house where Granddad used to live is the weirdest sensation. A bit of me is happy that he never saw the house in this state, so he could keep his memories just as they were. But, for me, this crumbling house is still holding on to the stories that once happened inside it--like the building is guarding the secrets of the past." http://shouldbereading.wordpress.com

"The Irish breakfast--more properly, a resplendent banquet on a plate--was the culprit. He had tried to restrict himself to three such repasts during their stay in County Sligo, but ended up devouring seven, two of them out of view of his wife. He didn't know about Saint Paul, but the grim baggage of diabetes was definitely this cleric's thorn. http://www.bibliophilebythesea.blogspot.com