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✧︎ DAY THREE: Write about your favorite books ✦︎

I have to say, all of this books, newly favorites to me, actually, more than five months ago or even one year; however, I am still love them with all my heart and soul, which insatiable for classic literature, but not in this case, as you can see. I will share with you a few words and sentences about this books.

→ Number one is Superstitious, by R. L. Stine

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"I met her briefly. That's the young woman who was supposed to be my secretary. But she... It was when I had just arrived in town. My sister and I were so occupied with moving in and getting settled here, I barely had time to go into my office. I think I spoke only once or twice to the poor girl. And then...when she was murdered..."
At first I doubted, whether to read this book or, on the other hand, not to read it. However, I read it in the shortest possible time. This story was so interesting and exacting, that I did not pay any potential attention, as time flies over my head and through me. Non-existent supernatural power, of course.

→ Number two is Valley of the Dolls, by Jacqueline Susann

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"Regardless of Lyon Burke’s “I’ll-take-anything” attitude, she couldn’t quite visualize him in a room like this. Not that it was a bad room. It was clean and conveniently located. Of course, compared to her spacious bedroom in Lawrenceville it was an awful room! The lumpy studio bed looked as if it might not last another year. Sometimes she wondered how many people had slept on it — hundreds, perhaps. But she didn’t know them, and perhaps it was just this anonymity that made it her bed. As long as she paid her rent, everything in this room belonged to her. The small, battered night table, crisscrossed with scratches and old cigarette burns; the bureau with the three drawers that had to be left slightly open because they stuck if they were closed and if you pulled too hard the knobs came off; and the pregnant easy chair, its lowered belly bulging with springs that just longed to burst through."
For the fact, I did not finish reading this book, but I still keep consider it one of my favorites from about a four months. And only this evening I learned about a movie-version of it, through the Google, accidently, for sure. I accept entirely book-version of various stories, rarely movie-versions. Reading books is my partiality, not watching films, for which once I was scolded by one of my teachers two years ago, almost without a good reason for her complaining. I would say, one day I will definitely finish this book. At least, I hope, I will. I am not going for watching the movie, if only my natural curiosity will insist on it.

→ Number three is The Exorcist, by William P. Blatty

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“Well, my daughter, she — oh, well, no. Never mind. I get started, I’ll be telling you my whole life story, you could maybe make a film of it. No, really! It’s incredible! If you only knew half the crazy things that used to happen in my family, you would — No. No, never mind. All right, one! I’ll tell one! Like my mother, every Friday she would make for us gefilte fish, all right? Only all week long — the whole week — no one gets to take a bath on account of my mother has the carp in the bathtub, it’s swimming back and forth, back and forth, because my mother said this cleaned out the poison in its system. I mean, really, who knew! Who knew that carp the whole time are all thinking all these horrible and evil, vindictive thoughts! Oh, well, enough now. Really. Only now and then a laugh just to keep us from crying.”
It was supposed to be a typical New Year's Eve, when my mother, stepfather and little sister left me at our small, but cozy, flat, near my bookshelf, which was brought from my grandmother's apartment. I am quickly noticed one book in a black undercover, with three titles and authors' last names on it. One of them was "The Exorcist". Then, I raised my left eyebrow and took the book from the shelf. Sitting on the couch, I began to read it, starting with the prologue. I was sincerely amazed by the way the plot unfolded as I read it, page by page. Meanwhile, I did not notice how everything was over already. I thought, this is the end, right? Well, now, I am startled. It was a fascinating experiences through this story, which left me speechless by the end of it, and a lone hours without my loud and disturbing family.

→ Number four is Pnin, by Vladimir Nabokov

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"How should we diagnose his sad case? Pnin, it should be particularly stressed, was anything but the type of that good-natured German platitude of last century, der zerstreute Professor. On the contrary, he was perhaps too wary, too persistently on the lookout for diabolical pitfalls, too painfully on the alert lest his erratic surroundings (unpredictable America) inveigle him into some bit of preposterous oversight. It was the world that was absentminded and it was Pnin whose business it was to set it straight. His life was a constant war with insensate objects that fell apart, or attacked him, or refused to function, or viciously got themselves lost as soon as they entered the sphere of his existence."
How can I do not adore this story, when I read it, at least, twice for about a past one year? I specifically asked by the second time for this book from my grandmother's sister, and now it must be returned to her personal bookshelf, but I simply refuse to do it. Who can blame me? Correct. Myself and my grandmother's sister. I feel how this book belongs to me, not to her. Especially, to my heart. The book quite easily fits in my backpack, and I can carry it everywhere with me, even not pulling it out. Books is somewhat mascots for me, a talismans, that brings luck with themselves. I feel myself better, when they are with me, in my backpack or in my heart. Especially, this one.

The first two days, for counting:

Thank you for your attention.
― Alex;