Day: May 11, 2018

BookTalk event, 25th April 2018: The No Good Brother(s) Tour with Tyler Keevil

Our next event will be BookTalk with a twist! We are pleased to welcome Tyler and Jonathan Keevil to celebrate the UK launch of Tyler’s latest novel, No Good Brother – a rip-roaring tale of ‘loyalty, love, danger and family’ (HarperCollins, 2018). Tyler Keevil is an award-winning writer … Continue reading BookTalk event, 25th April 2018: The No Good Brother(s) Tour with Tyler Keevil

Harry Potter & the Philosopher’s Stone: Excerpt #3

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh – mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.”

“Is he always that nervous?”

“Oh yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where’s me umbrella?”

Vampires? Hags? Harry’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the dustbin.

“Three up… two across…” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archy on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”

Excerpt taken from Harry Potter and the Philospher’s Stone (London: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2013), pp. 55-6.

Image credit.

Zola’s La Bête humaine: Excerpt #2

In the frenzy of his desire to have her, and excited by her caresses, Jacques, having no other weapon, was already stretching out his fingers to strangle Severine when she herself, from habit, turned and put out the lamp. Then he took her, and they lay together. It was one of their most passionate nights of love, and best of all, the only time when they had felt completely merged together, completely obliterated each in the other.
— Émile Zola, La Bête humaine (1890), ch. 11