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Photograph taken somewhere in California.

I am currently reading “The Reader” by Bernhard Schlink.

Here are two of my favourite passages from the book:

“When I let her alone to prepare pudding, she was not at the table when I came back. She had gone from room to room and was standing in my father’s study. I leaned quietly against the doorpost and watched her. She let her eyes drift over the bookshelves the filled the walls, as if she were reading a text. Then she went to a shelf, raised her right index finger chest high and ran it slowly along the backs of the books, moved to the next shelf, ran her finger further along, from one spine to the next, pacing off the room. She stopped at the window, looked out into the darkness, at the reflection of the bookshelves, and at her own.”

“When an aeroplane’s engines fail, it is not the end of the flight. Aeroplanes don’t fall out of the sky like stones. They glide on, the enormous multi-engined passenger jets, for thirty, forty-five minutes, only to smash themselves up when they attempt a landing. The passengers don’t notice a thing. Flying feels the same whether the engines are working or not. It’s quieter, but only slightly: the wind drowns out the engines as it buffets the tail and wings. At some point the earth or sea look dangerously close through the window. But perhaps the film is on, and the stewards and air hostesses have closed the blinds. Maybe the very quietness of the flight strikes the passengers as an improvement.”

What are you currently reading?

Extracts from “The Reader”

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