Book Review War And Peace Novels & Stories

I spent almost the entire trip reading through one of the books Peter gave me about the first war. I wasn't a history buff but I knew enough about human history to know that war was one of the worst things a country could face, only I had never really stopped to consider the details. Sitting in the comfort and safety of Cole's car and reading about death and destruction had my body shivering with fear. The book spared no details. Whole chapters were devoted to recounting particular battles listing the deaths and the destruction that occurred and I swallowed hard as I considered that soon we would be going through all of that again. I had closed the book and let my eyes shut for the last twen

I still hated him and that hadn’t changed. Needing a distraction, I headed to the library, determined to lose myself in a book. My fingers trailed over the spines until I settled on a book on the second world war. It wasn’t the type of book I would usually go for, but Lorenzo’s collection was as dark and intense as the man himself—history, philosophy, and war. Hours slipped by unnoticed, the afternoon sun casting golden light through the tall windows. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. With a sigh, I closed the book and made my way to the kitchen.

"I ran this morning. Six miles. The perimeter is secure. The cardiovascular system is efficient." "Read a book." "I finished the books," Cale said. "All of them. The shelf is depleted." Elion looked at the bookshelf in the living room. There were at least fifty books there. "You read War and Peace?" "Yes. It was... long. The military strategy was flawed." "Of course it was." Elion sighed. He stood up, swaying slightly. "You need a hobby," Elion said. "Or a job." "A job," Cale repeated. "Employment. Exchange of labor for currency."

I asked. She looked at me then, her eyes searching mine. “Some things are better left behind,” she said quietly. Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I wanted to press her, to demand answers. But something held me back. Instead, I reached for a book from the shelf, a worn copy of War and Peace. I held it out to her. “This is a good place to start,” I said. She took it hesitantly, her fingers brushing mine. The brief contact sent a spark through me, unexpected and unwelcome. I pulled my hand back quickly, turning away before she could see the effect she had on me.

I sighed a little to myself as the bathroom door closed behind him, taking a seat at one of the sofas much like he had before me. I picked up the book he had been reading, a well worn hardcover. It was War and Peace. I'd spent night reading it over and over. By now, I had nearly memorised it, along with a few other classics my nanny had slipped to me surreptitiously. I flipped to the first page of the book, gasping. It was a first edition! These were hard to come by, specially for someone like me. Eagerly, I flipped to the page he had bookmarked.

"Well, sometimes I watch T.V. I like, well, love to read. So I do that a lot when I'm alone." "Like what? Romance, crime thrillers?" I shrugged. "Sometimes. I really like the classics. Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, George Elliot (who was a woman, by the way). I also like the Russians, like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. 'War and Peace' is amazing." "You've read 'War and Peace'?" "Yeah, twice. It's excellent." I cocked my head. "How about you, what do you like to read?"

Taking a sip of my whiskey, I felt the familiar burn as it slid down my throat, praying to whatever deity would listen that it'd numb the pounding headache beginning to overwhelm all my other senses. “Fuck me,” I mumbled under my breath as I opened the book titled, ‘History of the Great War.’ It was the usual stuff, talking about the first days of humans discovering the supernatural world was real, the attacks within our governments and armies, and the billions who had died. God, it had been a cluster fuck, a well-planned cluster fuck that none of us had seen coming. The war had been going on for a little over seventy years by the time I was born, just in time for me to participate in the la

The book I was holding crashed to the floor, and I flinched because it was a new book and I would hate it if it got any scratches or worse, got torn. I grumble out in frustration, annoyed at my carelessness and his sudden stop before bending down to pick the book, except Zion had bent down at the same time, and we reached for the book together, so our hands touched, and I jolted away from the current that flows from our hands at the touching point.

But on the lower shelf, pushed toward the back like something filed away rather than stored, I found it. No title on the spine. I pulled it free and opened the cover. “ A Complete Record of the Human Management System as Established by the Wolf Council in the Third Year Following the Great War’s Cessation,” I read out loud to myself. Great War. The same war, Mye had mentioned. I carried the book to the chair by the dead fireplace and sat down. The first section was bureaucratic—council minutes, resource allocations, the dry language of people building something terrible and calling it policy. I moved through it quickly, scanning for substance.

Lord of the Rings War and Peace Frankenstein The Great Gatsby My feet halted near the Classics section. I could sense the heat of his gaze on my back. He was observing what book I would choose. ‘Paradise Lost!’ My hand itched, and I took it out. I had read a part of it but never got to complete it. Maybe I should. I was literally living with a devil, so why not read about one too. The iconic cover had gold text clashing with a red background like heaven's light scorching through hell's flames. A visual war portraying the epic poem's cosmic stakes.