What are you currently reading?

[MattPie]

Ok. Thanks for the suggestions; I'm just not a sci-fi guy. So I ordered Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith. Should be here tomorrow.

 

Ah. Well I'm actually working my way thru "The Vicomte de Braglonne" right now. It's a continuation of the Three Musketeers story, which will end with The Man in the Iron Mask. I can't say I particularly recommend this book, but the series isn't bad.

[josie]

I just started Don't Call Me Goon. Love me some learnin' about old time hockey. Well, it's old time at the moment.

[Taro T]

Ok. Thanks for the suggestions; I'm just not a sci-fi guy. So I ordered Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith. Should be here tomorrow.

Hope it's better than the movie. It almost has to be by definition. That movie stunk.

[MattPie]

Hope it's better than the movie. It almost has to be by definition. That movie stunk.

 

I thought the movie was amusing, even if it kinda followed the romantic comedy blueprint.

[Eleven]

Hope it's better than the movie. It almost has to be by definition. That movie stunk.

I thought the movie was amusing, even if it kinda followed the romantic comedy blueprint.

 

I don't think there's going to be too much romance or comedy in the book. I never saw the movie.

[MattPie]

I don't think there's going to be too much romance or comedy in the book. I never saw the movie.

 

My guess would be that what was a couple page romantic anecdote in the book became a major part of the movie. Gotta give the average[0] girls that get forced to watch the movie something. It's like that one scene in Titanic in reverse.

 

[0] As opposed to the hockey-loving ladies of Sabrespace!

Edited October 16, 2013 by MattPie

[nfreeman]

It's not literature, but some of these are great articles: http://deadspin.com/deadspin-2013-all-the-cool-old-stories-we-republished-1486006466

 

I just read the one about NBA groupies and the one about Steve Carlton. Holy mackerel.

[FolignosJock]

Gonna re read the hobbit this weekend, then I would like to start these divergence books? are they any good?

[dEnnis the Menace]

Finally read World War Z. Liked it a lot, and it had little to no resemblance to the movie.

 

Started The Outpost by Jake Tapper this past weekend. It's about an Army forward outpost in the most remote region of Afghanistan, and the perils of scouting and building it. I'm a little over a third of the way thru so far, and it has been a mixed bag of emotions. I love the book, but get angry with decision makers and pencil pushers whilst reading.

 

For anyone that wants a good understanding of why a lot of things went wrong in Afghanistan, this is a great book.

[bunomatic]

Currently reading The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky. I've always loved Russian Lit. and this one so far hasn't disappointed me. Next I'll re-read Dead Souls by Gogol which is very humorous and a great read.

[Weave]

Maybe I am a bit too "regular".

 

The wife and I stop in at the local watering hole tonight., It is a Friday night ritual. After we"ve settled in with our drinks the owner walks up with a package in hand and sets it in front of me., It is a Christmas gift. Judging by the weight and shape I say, "it looks like a book. A whiskey book I'll bet". The owner smiles. I open the package and I am correct, It is a copy of Guide to Urban Moonshining, How to Make and Drink Whiskey by The Kings County Distliilery.

 

I love living in a small town. I'm sure I will enjoy the read.

[WildCard]

Just got "11/22/63" by Stephen King for Christmas today. A customer came into work and raved about it so I asked for it and Santa delivered

 

Brief synopsis: It's about a man, an English Teacher, who discovers a way to go back in time and he's urged by a friend (the discoverer) to prevent the Kennedy assassination.

 

Carved out nearly 200 hundred pages in the first night; I can't seem to put it down, King has an incredible way of making the reader forget he's actually reading and he really draws you in to his characters, makes them very relatable. More importantly, King's description of the aspects of his time travel actually allows for a plausible universe, and the details he puts into the method of it aren't laden with overly-complicated scientific detail but rather interesting nuances that really make you want to push forward.

 

So far, I love it, and I'm extremely eager to see which direction King takes this hunt in (i.e. Grassy Knoll or Lee Harvey Oswald)

[darksabre]

Just got "11/22/63" by Stephen King for Christmas today. A customer came into work and raved about it so I asked for it and Santa delivered

 

Brief synopsis: It's about a man, an English Teacher, who discovers a way to go back in time and he's urged by a friend (the discoverer) to prevent the Kennedy assassination.

 

Carved out nearly 200 hundred pages in the first night; I can't seem to put it down, King has an incredible way of making the reader forget he's actually reading and he really draws you in to his characters, makes them very relatable. More importantly, King's description of the aspects of his time travel actually allows for a plausible universe, and the details he puts into the method of it aren't laden with overly-complicated scientific detail but rather interesting nuances that really make you want to push forward.

 

So far, I love it, and I'm extremely eager to see which direction King takes this hunt in (i.e. Grassy Knoll or Lee Harvey Oswald)

 

Saying you like Steven King always feels like the punch line to a bad joke. But he's a good writer and as long as his material is your cup of tea he's a fun read. I love From a Buick Eight. Creepy fun.

[WildCard]

Saying you like Steven King always feels like the punch line to a bad joke. But he's a good writer and as long as his material is your cup of tea he's a fun read. I love From a Buick Eight. Creepy fun.

Honestly one of the reasons I've never read him before, that and I'm not huge into horror.

 

Buick Eight, is that the one about the car that avenges his owners bullies? Futurama did a cover of that I think

[darksabre]

 

Honestly one of the reasons I've never read him before, that and I'm not huge into horror.

 

Buick Eight, is that the one about the car that avenges his owners bullies? Futurama did a cover of that I think

 

Nope, that's Christine. Buick Eight is creepier. The Buick is an old police impound that a rural PA police department keeps secret because it's other worldly. Wackiness ensues.

[bunomatic]

I used to work in a pulp mill on the graveyard shift. I read Steven King passing time on a 12 hour shift but one of my duties as a ' chipman ' was to do an hourly tour through the chip loft and check all the equipment for overheating, noises that indicated maintenance was due, signs of fire or smoke, etc. After reading King novels for a couple of hours I would ride the elevator up to the 4th floor to start my maintenance tour and literally run down every flight of stairs with the feeling someone or something was behind me. Needless to say I was neglecting my duty and had to stop reading those damn novels at work because of how they affected me. Every shadow became a character out of the book. Every odd noise became the creature that would rend me skin from bone. It scared the bejesus out of me.

[WildCard]

Nope, that's Christine. Buick Eight is creepier. The Buick is an old police impound that a rural PA police department keeps secret because it's other worldly. Wackiness ensues.

I used to work in a pulp mill on the graveyard shift. I read Steven King passing time on a 12 hour shift but one of my duties as a ' chipman ' was to do an hourly tour through the chip loft and check all the equipment for overheating, noises that indicated maintenance was due, signs of fire or smoke, etc. After reading King novels for a couple of hours I would ride the elevator up to the 4th floor to start my maintenance tour and literally run down every flight of stairs with the feeling someone or something was behind me. Needless to say I was neglecting my duty and had to stop reading those damn novels at work because of how they affected me. Every shadow became a character out of the book. Every odd noise became the creature that would rend me skin from bone. It scared the bejesus out of me.

I'm losing it with the King book, I haven't read something so...enthralling since Game of Thrones. In the everything's-important to the unpredictable plot area, they're very similar, and it's great. 450 pages in so far, and nothing horror-esque. Definitely some descriptive violence, but with the language and sex it has in it, it kind of balances it out so it's not slasher type of read.

 

I'm gonna have to give Buick a shot, and probably some other ones after this, but if anyones interested in reading this, I'd recommend it.

[WildCard]

Just finished Book 2 of Robert Jordan's "The Wheel of Time" series. Anyone else ever read these?

[darksabre]

Time to add this to the "need to read" list:

 

http://www.triumphbooks.com/saved-products-9781629370491.php?page_id=21

 

 

From Sabres.com:

 

The first time I should have died was a Wednesday. March 22, 1989.

 

As I prepared for our game against the St. Louis Blues that night, I sat by myself in the locker room at the Memorial Auditorium, staring down at the floor, visualizing myself in net. It was a routine I did before every game.

 

The meditation forced me to focus on one thing: the puck. It quelled the chaos and turned it into a positive obsession. I’d run through stop after stop in my mind—a pad save, a glove save, a breakaway.

 

After being lost in an imaginary future, I got off the bench and went out into the hallway, beneath the seats slowly filling with fans. I turned to face a cement-block wall a few feet away, squared my shoulders and crouched.

 

Thud.

 

I threw a rubber ball against the wall with my right hand and caught it with my left.

 

Thud . . . thud. Then I threw it with my left and caught it with my right. Thud . . . thud . . . thud. Each time, the ball bounced off the wall faster than it originally hit it.

 

I threw the ball harder and harder against the wall—catch and throw, catch and throw.

 

It was a routine I had picked up from Vladislav Tretiak when I went to his camp in Montreal. It was essential to getting into the right frame of mind to play. Sometimes, I would throw two balls against the wall, tossing one and catching the other at the same time.

 

I forced myself to learn how to do that. On off-days, I’d pick a number and I wouldn’t stop the drill until I hit that number without dropping a ball.

 

Whenever I did these pre-game drills, people would stop to watch me, but I blocked them out of my head. I’m sure the speed was remarkable to them.

 

But in my mind, it was just one fluid blur. Thud . . . thud . . . thud . . . The anxiety became manageable. The repetition slowed everything down and let me focus on one simple thing.

 

After the drill, I was still tense, but it wasn’t debilitating. I finished getting dressed with the team and went out for warmups under the lights of the Aud. The tension stayed with me through the shooting drills, but it was all directed towards the game now.

 

Each shot was part of a countdown. My heart pounded throughout the national anthem. My mind and body were consumed by the beat.

 

Thud . . . thud . . . thud . . . thud . . . thud . . . thud . . . And then the players lined up, the puck was dropped, and it all came to a crescendo.

 

Then silence: 20:00 . . . 19:59 . . . 19:58 . . .

 

The clock crept past the five-minute mark. It was still the first period and I hadn’t faced many shots yet.

 

We were up 1–0. The puck was on the boards in the corner and I was on my post. The Blues’ Steve Tuttle, a twenty-three-year-old rookie, charged to the net, looking for a pass. One of our defensemen, Uwe Krupp, was right behind him.

 

4:45 . . . The pass came just above the crease—a backdoor play. I slid across the net. 4:44 . . . Krupp pulled Tuttle down from behind and slid into me, skates first. 4:43.

 

It felt like a kick to the mask. There was no pain, but I pulled my helmet off. And then I saw the blood. It spattered red in the faceoff circle.

 

A stream gushed out with every beat of my heart. It’s an artery. I grabbed my neck, trying to keep the blood in, but it rushed between my fingers. It just kept coming. I slumped forward and it glugged out like a water fountain.

 

Everything was a blur. I didn’t see the white faces in the crowd. I didn’t see fans pass out or any of the players vomiting on the ice. I didn’t hear Blues forward Rick Meagher turn to the benches and scream for help.

 

All I saw was the blood rushing into a red sea around me. I’m going to die.

 

Terry Gregson, the referee, looked down at me. His eyes were huge. “Get a stretcher—he’s bleeding to death!”

 

Our trainer, Jim Pizzutelli, got to me first. He had gauze from the medical kit. He pushed it against my throat, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. The crease was covered in blood.

 

I coughed out, “Jim, it’s my jugular.”

 

He was so calm. “Just do what I say.”

 

Years earlier, Jim had been a combat engineer in the Vietnam War. His second week in, he was walking through a village when a truck collided with him and four other soldiers. The impact broke his ribs. It tossed another soldier into a gully, where he was decapitated by a sheet-metal hut.

 

Jim was medevacked out, with the young man’s body and head beside him. He studied sports medicine after the war. Now here he was, squeezing his arm around my neck.

 

“We’re going to save you.”

 

“Jim, I can’t breathe.”

 

He flexed his grip. “You’re not going to breathe until we get you to a doctor.”

 

He helped me to my skates and we made it through the doors behind my net. I was scared as hell. I had no idea how much blood I had already lost. I had seen a television show that said a severed jugular would bleed out in minutes. I’m going to die.

 

My mother was at home in Calgary, watching the game on satellite. I couldn’t let her see this happen—not on the ice, not on TV, not like this. They put me on a table in the trainer’s room. Rip Simonick, our equipment manager, stood over me and held my hand. I asked him to call my mom.

 

When I first started playing for the Sabres, I saw a chaplain hanging around the arena. I asked Rip to call for him, figuring God might be my only hope to live. But at the one game I really needed him, the chaplain wasn’t there.

 

One of the team’s doctors took a towel and pressed it down on my throat with all his weight. He’d let up so I could breathe, and the blood would spout out and he’d press back down.

 

I still didn’t have a sense of time. There was mass confusion. Lots of nurses and doctors came down from the stands, wanting to help.

 

Security had to clear everyone out. Jim started cutting off my pads and chest protector. Rip was still holding my hand as he dialed my mother’s number. I didn’t want to pass out. If I close my eyes, I won’t wake up.

 

The ambulance seemed to take forever, but it was probably only ten minutes. When it finally arrived, they got me on a stretcher and put an IV in my arm.

 

I tried to make a joke: “Put in a couple stitches and let me get back out there.” Blood gurgled out as I said it. No one laughed. They were white as ghosts, and I figured it was the end.

 

Rip said, “I talked to your mom. She says she loves you.”

 

Our team doctor climbed into the ambulance with the paramedics and pushed down on my neck the whole ride to Buffalo General. They wheeled me through the emergency room doors. I was still wearing my hockey pants and long johns—they cut the gear off me.

 

They told me I was going to be okay, and I wanted to believe them. I tried to. They put a needle in my arm and I watched their frantic faces drift away.

 

 

:o

[dudacek]

Holy ###### Christ.

[spndnchz]

Intense.

[darksabre]

Intense.

 

Intense doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. I want to read this book but I'm not sure I need that kind of stress in my life right now.

[Weave]

Intense doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. I want to read this book but I'm not sure I need that kind of stress in my life right now.

 

I've read stories about his suicide attempt too. Man, that's heavy stuff. I really feel for the guy. Hope he makes his way through it ok. Serious demons.

[darksabre]

For anyone in the area, Clint will be doing a couple book signings Friday. Noon at Talking Leaves on Elmwood, and 6pm at Barnes and Noble on Niagara Falls Blvd. He'll also be doing one Saturday at 3pm at the Barnes and Noble in Clarence.

[bob_sauve28]

I'm reading the biography of Julius Caesar. Just got through his conquest of Gaul. Wow! What a horrible thing. Glad I live now and not back then