Book 1984 Author Mga Nobela at Kwento

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 3 hours late I stretch my arms over my head and groan. I started with English. I didn't realize how behind I am with my reading. I almost panicked when I saw this year's novel. It's 1984 by George Orwell, who thought this would be a good idea. On a normal day I would have enjoyed it but right now I'm on a deadline to complete three assignments based on the book.

It sank even deeper but I tried not to show it. "Why are you telling me? You usually don't." He was quiet, till he breathed. "I don't know," before his footsteps got entirely erased. * * * * My fingers trailed across the spine of the books and I stopped on a white covered book. I pull it out of the shelf and hold it in both hands. "Crime and Punishment," I read aloud before gazing down at the author's name. "Fyodor Dos-tos-to-eeev-evsky?" I squint my eyes. "Fyodor Dostoevsky!"

I could feel an intense gaze on me but i didn’t dare to look at the direction it’s coming from. I opened my book and started working, but that feeling didn’t go away, i was definitely being watched. Mr Isaac’s voice echoed in the classroom. “Winston Smith is the protagonist of which George Orwell novel?” I raised my hand. “Yes Miss Jenkins” “1984” “Very, very good Miss Jenkins, that is correct can you tell me what genre of book does Danielle Steel primarily write?” “Romance” “Excellent! What do George Eliot, George Sand and Acton Bell all have in common?”

The walls being light colored didn’t surprise me more than the mountains upon mountains of books he has sitting on bookshelves surrounding the room. I walk around the room running my hands over all the different titles and authors. Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, H.G Wells, and so much more. Wuthering Heights, a first edition version sat in a case in between the shelves by a set of double doors to what looks like a balcony. It stuck out to me more than any of the other titles because it surprises me more than anything that he would read a book such as that. I try to picture in my head him sitting in a chair with glasses, all relaxed and snuggled up reading a classical romance novel