Category: Elif Batuman

8/16 Book Deals

Hey guys, happy Friday! Just wrapping up the week with a few more books on sale! I realized that other than Ken Follet, all of these books are written by women–which I think is pretty neat! Anyway, be sure to have a quick look and have a wonderful day and weekend! 🙂

Find past book deals here–many of which are still on sale!

Today’s Deals:

NOTE:  I am categorizing these book deals posts under the tag #bookdeals, so if you don’t want to see them then just block that tag and you should be good. I am an Amazon affiliate in addition to a Book Depository affiliate and will receive a small (but very much needed!)  commission on any purchase made through these links.

But the Beatles turned out to be one of the th…

But the Beatles turned out to be one of the things you couldn’t avoid, like alcohol, or death.

Most people, the minute they meet you, were si…

Most people, the minute they meet you, were sizing you up for some competition for resources. It was as if everyone lived in fear of a shipwreck, where only so many people would fit on the lifeboat, and they were constantly trying to stake out their property and identify dispensable people – people they could get rid of… Everyone is trying to reassure themselves: I’m not going to get kicked off the boat, they are. They’re always separating people into two groups, allies and dispensable people… The number of people who want to understand what you’re like instead of trying to figure out whether you get to stay on the boat – it’s really limited.

I kept thinking about the uneven quality of ti…

I kept thinking about the uneven quality of time – the way it was almost always so empty, and then with no warning came a few days that felt so dense and alive and real that it seemed indisputable that that was what life was, that its real nature had finally been revealed. But then time passed and unthinkably grew dead again, and it turned out that that fullness had been an aberration and might never come back.

I didn’t care about truth; I cared about…

I didn’t care about truth; I cared about beauty. It took me many years – it took the experience of lived time – to realize that they really are the same thing.

Even though I had a deep conviction that I was…

Even though I had a deep conviction that I was good at writing, and that in some way I already was a writer, this conviction was completely independent of my having ever written anything, or being able to imagine ever writing anything, that I thought anyone would like to read.

Persian, Dilorom told me, had only one word fo…

Persian, Dilorom told me, had only one word for crying, whereas Old Uzbek had one hundred. Old Uzbek had words for wanting to cry and not being able to, for being caused to sob by something, for loudly crying like thunder in the clouds, for crying in gasps, for weeping inwardly or secretly, for crying ceaselessly in a high voice, for crying in hiccups, and for crying while uttering the sound ‘hay hay’.