viii. midnight's children - salman rushdie
pretty epic! the fact that the entire premise of perfume is distilled (pun certainly intended) down into a couple of this book's 600 pages and is but a mere feature of a person with a dictionary length list of characteristics indicates why this is the booker of bookers and the other was made into a crappy non-smellavision movie.
ix. for whom the bell tolls - ernest hemingway
um, hello. sad. who knew words could rip holes in you like that. i returned it to the library straight after finishing it because i want the next time i read it to be just as good.
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