Book Talk Novels & Stories

I didn’t argue anymore and just let Maico pay. Jacky suggested we go to National Book Store. Not obvious at all that she loves books, huh? Arrienne and Jacky went inside first. Maico followed, but I stopped him. I needed to talk to him. “Bro, can we talk?” He looked at me. “About what?” he asked, uninterested. Huh! “Let’s not play games here, man. You know what I want to talk about.” He glanced inside the bookstore before facing me again.

When Darius calls and asks if I want to get out for a bit, I say yes before he even finishes the question. "Luna and Cathy are having a shopping spree," he says. "Thought you might want a breather." "Please. Anywhere that's not here." He picks me up twenty minutes later and drives us to a bookstore in Brooklyn I've never been to. Small, independent, the kind of place that smells like old paper and coffee. "Come on." He takes my hand and leads me inside. We wander through the shelves aimlessly, no destination in mind. He pulls books at random and reads me the back covers in dramatic voices that make me laugh. I find a cookbook with ridiculous recipes and show him one for "deconstructed cereal

"Armani, you? Since when do you love books?" I give him a tight smile. "You might be surprised, Brother." "I certainly would be. Tell me, which book did you both read and bond over? I’m sure Lauren and I would love to read it as well." I hesitate. Damn. I should have seen this coming. My mind scrambles for an answer, but it’s blank. Any title. Any author. Anything. "1984," Rena says smoothly, setting her half-eaten bread down. Her voice is calm, self-assured. "It’s an interesting read, given the current times."

“Would you like to join a book club or something?” I stopped walking and turned to look at her. “A book club?” “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “There’s one I’m in. It’s actually really nice. Good people, good conversations. It might help you… reset a little.” I raised an eyebrow. “You? In a book club?” She gasped dramatically. “Wow. That’s rude.” I smiled faintly. “It’s not. I’m just surprised.” “It’s not boring, I promise,” she said. “And you might like it. It’ll give you something new to focus on.”

What if the information we needed simply wasn't there? I reached out and touched the cover. Instantly, golden light burst from the pages. Micha and I both froze. Then—something that had never happened before happened. The book spoke. Its voice was ancient, layered, and echoing like someone whispering from a distant chamber. "Dearest reader, this book chose not to open earlier because the time was not right. Do not be shocked—I can speak. I am called the Living Book for a reason." Micha and I exchanged stunned looks but nodded quickly.

They light up. Actually light up. Like humor is bouncing around inside them. “Am I right?” I ask. “Or at least close?” He shakes his head slowly. “Not even remotely.” “Fine,” I say. “Educate me. What’s a book ban?” He sighs dramatically, but his eyes are still sparkling. “It’s when a responsible citizen decides to stop buying books for a while,” he explains, “because their bank account is begging for mercy.” “Oh,” I say slowly, glancing at the stack in his arms.

I tried to instill my enthusiasm in Bill, who didn't quite understand a thing. The talk was to be at a bookstore where they were donating part of the proceeds to cancer patients. The owners let me prepare my intervention at a table at the back of the room, where thanks to the wifi connection and a notebook they offered me, I was able to take notes and learn more about the topic to be discussed. Redman had not oriented me as to the type of audience I expected to meet, but I thought they must be budding writers or teachers, as I aspired to be someday. The training was not very official, although a certificate was issued in token form.

“You’d better keep it! I call you because I want to invite you to my event… I wonder if you are free this Saturday…” “I’d love to come but… what’s the event?” “It’s actually my book publication event… It’s my fourth book from the series I write. There’ll be some boring interview, book signing but there will be a banquet after that with some good wine, and… I would sincerely want you to come,” he said a little shyly. “That sounds great! I'm ashamed to ask… but I don’t even know what kind of books you are writing…” I thought of historical fiction novels or something medical, since he was supposed to be doctor.

Daniel Hart was a chapter closed with no intention of being reread. And then, on a crisp Saturday morning in early October, I met him. The bookstore was nearly empty—one of those independent shops with mismatched chairs, shelves that reached too high, and the scent of cedar and old paper in the air. I went there often, drawn to its quiet corners and anonymity. I was in the psychology aisle, flipping through a worn copy of The Body Keeps the Score, when I heard a voice behind me. “That one saved my life. Or at least explained why I couldn’t sleep for three years.”

Kennedy POV. The weather was bad, but I needed to get that new book, it's Robert birthday gift, who'd knew a grown up man would kill for the newest werewolf love book. I got into my car, drove carefully toward the local book store, they had the new book reserved for me. It was supposed to one quick drive, until I walked into the library. A girl was sitting on a bean bag, her blond hair was covering her eyes with overgrown bangs, she tried to huff them away from her face but to no use. She looked young, maybe she's just here with her parents, looking down at the book she had in her hands it was a kids story. Does she read for the local kids? Or is it just for her?