BMTG Daily Dose

Formerly known as the Daily Dose, the Weekly Dose is home to weekly excerpts from a wide variety of important books. These excerpts are near and dear to the hearts of the BMTG membership. Submissions from BMTG members are welcome, as long as the guidelines are followed. Submissions that do not conform to the official guidelines will be rejected without the opportunity to appeal. Excerpts are best when read aloud with a dramatic flair.

2006
May | April | March | February | January

4/30/05: The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

But, in spite of Albert's hope, the day passed unmarked by any incident, excepting two or three encounters with the carriage full of Roman peasants. At one of these encounters, accidentally or purposely, Albert's mask fell off. He instantly rose and cast the remainder of the bouquets into the carriage. Doubtless one of the charming females Albert had detected beneath their coquettish disguise was touched by his gallantry; for, as the carriage of the two friends passed her, she threw a bunch of violets. Albert seized it, and as Franz had no reason to suppose it was meant for him, he suffered Albert to retain it. Albert placed it in his button-hole, and the carriage went triumphantly on.

4/29/05: The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

"Don't move," he said. "The floor is covered with smashed crockery from the dresser. You can't possibly move without making a noise, and I fancy they are outside."
We both sat quite silent, so that we could scarcely hear each other breathing. Everything seemed deadly still, but once something near us, some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. Outside and very near was an intermittent, metallic rattle.

4/28/05: Crime: Its Cause and Treatment by Clarence Darrow

The chief difficulty is that between the most violently insane and the least emotional man are infinite numbers of gradations blending so closely that no one can mathematically or scientifically classify all the various individual units. While there are cases of insanity that can be clearly traced to injury or disease, the degree of sanity in most cases is still impossible to determine. Most insane people are sane on some things, generally on most things and are sane a part or most of the time. The periods of sanity and insanity can be distinguished only by conduct. How far any specific insanity may impair the brain and affect the inhibitions, is impossible to foretell.

4/27/05: My Bondage and My Freedom by Frederick Douglass

The valuation and the division of slaves, among contending heirs, is an important incident in slave life. The character and tendencies of the heirs, are generally well understood among the slaves who are to be divided, and all have their aversions and preferences. But, neither their aversions nor their preferences avail them anything.

4/26/05: The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate by Eliza Poor Donner Houghton

A flutter in the air aroused me. It was the old white-faced owl leaving the hollow in the live oak for the night's hunt. I faced about and saw her mate fly after her. Then in the stillness that followed, I stretched both arms toward heaven and cried aloud, "O God, I'm all alone; take care of me!"

4/25/05: The American Baron by James de Mille

The Italian woman had been standing where she had stopped ever since she first came into the room. Minnie had not paid any attention to her, but at last she noticed this.
"I wish you wouldn't stand there in that way. You really make me feel quite nervous. And what with the dark, and not having any light, and losing poor dear Kitty, and not having any chair to sit upon, really one's life is scarce worth having. But all this is thrown away, as you can't speak English--and how horrid it is to have no one to talk to."

4/24/05: Citizen Soldiers by Stephen E. Ambrose

Always hungry, the men of Charlie Company, 395th Regiment, tried to supplement their diet with venison. Pvt. Vernon Swanson went after the locally abundant deer with his BAR (a common practice for GIs in Belgium that winter). He dropped one, but the deer was only wounded. "We followed the blood trail for quite a distance into German territory and then discovered the Germans had stolen our deer. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed and we did not send a combat patrol to recover our deer."

4/23/05: Cash, The Autobiography by Johnny Cash

Gerald Ford, who had the same gift of focus as Nixon and Clinton, was also a very nice man - everybody knows that - and being with George Bush was like spending time with an old friend from home, talking about hunting the Texas hill country. It's not surprising, really, that all the presidents I've known have had a lot of personal charm. If they hadn't, they'd never have gotten to be president.

4/22/05: The Death of Outrage by William Bennett

At the same time, the "people's business" is not as narrowly defined as the president and his supporters intend. No great civilization - none - has ever been judged great because of wealth alone. And more than any other, the American republic has stood in support of, and been governed by, a clear proposition: there are things that matter more than gold.

4/21/05: Farewell From Nowhere by Vladimir Maximov

Apart from The Singer, the cell contained a phlegmatic Bashkir, who lay on the bed opposite Vlad’s. He literally lay there most of the time, occasionally turning over onto his other side and only getting up to eat or relieve himself – or to do the same things in reverse order.

4/20/05: Black Water Transit by Carsten Stroud

The engine noise filled the car as Jimmy Rock accelerated around a wandering fruit truck. Far ahead, the gypsy cab and the white Lincoln were two red sparks in the glittering field of the bridge lights, the planes and angles, squares and rooftops of Long Island City. Six minutes later they were a hundred feet back from the lopsided and badly dented gypsy Checker with the greasy windows. A hundred feet ahead of the Checker cab, moving in and out of heavy traffic, was the white Lincoln, eastbound on the Queensboro Bridge.

4/19/05: Barbara Bush - A Memoir by Barbara Bush

As the plane left Tibet, most of the party missed the clear, crisp air. Dean Burch and I got steadily better as the cabin became presurized, thank heavens. For those who suffer the same "altitude sickness," I have discovered recently that pills from your doctor, lots of fluids, and moving slowly really do help.

4/18/05: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

I lingered but a moment at the mirror: the second and conclusive experiment had yet to be attempted; it yet remained to be seen if I had lost my identity beyond redemption and must flee before daylight from a house that was no longer mine; and hurrying back to my cabinet, I once more prepared and drank the cup, once more suffered the pangs of dissolution, and came to myself once more with the character, the stature, and the face of Henry Jekyll.

4/17/05: Zulu Heart by Steven Barnes

       Despite seclusion and lowered voices, their conversation was not private. From just outside the barn, Conair watched, fascinated as the two Zulus conversed sharply in their native tongue.
       Conair was bright enough to know that what he had seen was dangerous. The Empress’s niece was kind, and small smart funny Babatunde even more so.
       If anything, he should talk to the little shaykh. If anyone would know what this might mean, it was he.

4/16/05: Ghost by Piers Anthony

       He watched the screen himself. And saw something forming outside, where nothing had been visible before. Swirls of white, of color, fluxes in space. Then –
The torso formed. Quickly the legs and feet appeared, then the tail and the huge genitalia. Headless, it faced them.
       “Alice?” Shetland prompted. And wondered: did her presence portend the death of all the crew? Was that the real reason, perhaps unknown to her, that the supernatural had intruded into this natural setting? The notion did not seem fantastic now.
       “Help me…” she said behind him. “I can’t project that far. Not without physical brain power.”

4/15/05: I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

The robopsychologist nodded. “I see you intrude on my field – as every politician must, I suppose. But I’m very sorry it turned out this way. I like robots. I like them considerably better than I do human beings. If a robot can be created capable of being a civil executive, I think he’d make the best one possible. By the Laws of Robotics, he’d be incapable of harming humans, incapable of tyranny, of corruption, of stupidity, of prejudice. And after he had served a decent term, he would leave, even though he were immortal, because it would be impossible for him to hurt humans by letting them know that a robot had ruled them. It would be most ideal.”

4/14/05: Omerta by Mario Puzo

They all listened silently as the Don took another sip of wine. “Now, my Nicole. Hear me. Your client, your murderer, is sentenced to life imprisonment. He will be behind bars or in an institution for the rest of his life. So you say. But each morning he will see the rising sun, he will taste hot food, he will hear music, the blood will run in his veins and interest him in the world. His loved ones can still embrace him. I understand he can even study books, learn carpentry to build a table and chairs. In short, he lives. And that is unjust.”

4/13/05: Birdman by Mo Hayder

Veronica’s red Tigra was parked outside the house. Smug. As if it had a right to be there. It was dark now, and over the roofs, on Penderecki’s side of the railway cutting, a thin column of smoke rose. The house was in darkness. Caffery let himself in, cautious, prepared for the worst.
“Veronica?” He stood on the doormat, nervous in his own home. “Veronica?”

4/12/05: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"Come along, Mother," Dunia said. "I'm sure he'll do as he says. He's brought by brother back to life already, and if the doctor will agree to spend the night here, what could be better?"
"You...you understand me - because you're an angel!" Razumikhim exclaimed ecstatically. "Let's go! Nastasia! You go right on up and sit outside with a light. I'll be back in fifteen minutes..."

4/11/05: The Troubled Heart of Africa – A History of the Congo by Robert B. Edgerton

While still at Boma, Lucy became delirious with a high fever and had to be carried in a hammock 263 miles to Leopoldville, where she and Sheppard plus the new missionaries would take a steamer to Luebo, then walk another fifty miles on foot to Ibanche. Life at Ibanche was a struggle in every way, with diseases a daily threat. Lucy’s first child, a daughter, lived for only a few weeks. With Sheppard’s help, Lucy distracted herself by building a house to live in while battling the elements, biting ants, and even leopards that walked on the roof at night. She gave birth to a second daughter, but this child only lived for eight months.

4/10/05: The Last Lion – Winston Spencer Churchill – Alone, 1932 –1940 by William Manchester

In a note to Churchill, Ambassador Franckenstein jubilantly wrote that the Austrian votes would settle the “’duel’ between Miss Milford and myself.” But the next day – Thursday, March 10 – the ambassador was less sanguine. Leo Amery gave a lunch for him at 112 Eaton Square. Harold Nicolson noted that the Austrian seemed “anxious and depressed.” They congratulated him, Nicolson continued, upon “Schuschnigg having declared a plebiscite and having been so brave as to stand up to Hitler,” but “he does not seem to think that his courage will avail very much.”

4/9/05: The Tin Man by Dale Brown

"You will get your chance, Major," Townsend said. "The city of Sacramento has not yet even begun to bleed. This is a small haul compared to the penalty we will take from this city before we are finished. The city of Sacramento will learn to fear us. They will surrender to us - or the death toll will rise. But remember our ultimate objective. Tearing this city apart is only a means to an end."

4/8/05: The Dark Side of Camelot by Seymour M. Hersh

The president’s interest was far from academic. Maria Novotny and Suzy Chang worked as high-class prostitutes in New York as well as London, and, as Novotny would tell reporters later, she and Chang had serviced Jack Kennedy before and after the 1960 presidential election. As a senator, Kennedy had taken Suzy Chang to dinner at 21, the very public New York restaurant. He, too, with a wife as lovely as Profumo’s, could be drawn into the scandal.

4/7/05: Daddy is a Monster…Sometimes by John Steptoe

When we go out to a restaurant Daddy sometimes turns into a monster, but only just a little bit so nobody sees him doin’ it.

4/6/05: Captured by the Indians: 15 Firsthand Accounts, 1750 – 1870 edited by Frederick Drimmer

I had not been seated long when the scalps of Mr. May and Miss Fleming, which had been stretched upon sticks bent into a circular form, were set before me at the fire to dry. The sight of these scalps, so unfeelingly placed directly in my view – one of them torn from the head of a woman by our ferocious captors, the other from a man who had won my esteem and friendship – aroused feelings in me that are too painful to describe.

4/5/05: Sam Johnson's Boy by Alfred Steinberg

Daily he gave his protocol guides recurring concern by teasing them with "Dammit, I haven't patted anyone on the head yet." Then suddenly the threat became reality when he deliberately began patting heads. The most unpleasant embarrassment to his Indian hosts came at the real Taj Mahal at Agra, where he committed the sacrilegious act of kissing Lady Bird. Even worse was the fifteen-second-long Texas cowboy "Yeeeaaaay-hoooo" he screamed out at the top of the marble landing. "Ah'm jes' testin' the echo," he explained matter of factly to the choleric Indians afterward. Then to Jean Kennedy Smith, whose father's large and self-made fortune rankled him, he said in a biting aside, "Maybe someday you'll build a place like this for your husband Steve."

4/4/05: The Divine Comedy - Paradiso by Dante Alighieri

As in a fish pool that is still and clear the fish draw to that which comes in such manner from without that they deem it something they can feed on, so did I see full more than a thousand splendors draw toward us, and in each was heard, "Lo one who shall increase our loves!" And, as each came up to us, the shade was seen full of joy, by the bright effulgence that issued from it.

4/3/05: Notes of a Villager by Jose Ruben Romero

       That night after supper we went to see the cocks - Quitupan against Jiquilpan, according to the programs.
       It was the first time I'd seen the spectacle and I admired it in all its details.
       They removed the cocks from their canvas bags and weighed them on some balance scales the size of a toy. One man held the birds while another armed them with the knife-like spurs, frequently moistening the leather covers with spit. They put them beak to beak for the confrontation and pulled their neck feathers. What bad men, I thought. How they mistreat them! I wouldn't do this with my chickens.

4/2/05: American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

       I stand up, walk over to the Jodi mirror that hangs next to the George Stubbs painting and check my hair, running an oxhorn comb through it, then, calmly, I pick up one of my cordless phones and, preparing myself for a tense scene, pretend to be talking with John Akers, and I start enunciating clearly into the phone before the detective enters the office.
       "Now, John..." I clear my throat. "You've got to wear clothes in proportion to your physique," I begin, talking to nobody. "There are definitely dos and don'ts, good buddy, of wearing a bold-striped shirt. A bold-striped shirt calls for solid-colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties..."
       The door to the office opens and I wave in the detective, who is surprisingly young, maybe my age, wearing a linen Armani suit not unlike mine, though he is slightly disheveled in a hip way, which worries me. I offer a reassuring smile.
       "And a shirt with a high yarn count means it's more durable than one that doesn't...Yes, I know....But to determine this you've got to examine the material's weave...." I point to the Mark Schrager chrome and teak chair on the opposite side of my desk, silently urging him to sit.
       "Tightly woven fabric is created not only by using a lot of yarn but by using yarn of high-quality fibers, both long and thin, which...yes...which are...which fabricate a close weave as opposed to short and stubbly fibers, like those found in tweed. And loosely woven fabrics such as knits are extremely delicate and should be treated with great care...." Because of the detective's arrival, it seems unlikely that this will be a good day and I eye him warily as he takes the seat and crosses his legs in a way that fills me with a nameless dread. I realize I've been quiet too long when he turns around to see if I'm off the phone.
       "Right, and ...yes, John, right. And...yes, always tip the stylist fifteen percent...." I pause. "No, the owner of the salon shouldn't be tipped...." I shrug at the detective hopelessly, rolling my eyes. He nods, smiles understandingly and recrosses his legs. Nice socks. Jesus. "The girl who washes the hair? It depends. I'd say a dollar or two...." I laugh. "Depends on what she looks like...." I laugh harder. "And yeah, what else she washes...." I pause again, then say, "Listen, John, I've got to go. T. Boone Pickens just walked in...." I pause, grinning like an idiot, then laugh. "Just joking..." Another pause. "No, don't tip the owner of the salon." I laugh once more, then, finally, "Okay, John...right, got it." I hang up the phone, push its antenna down and then, uselessly stressing my normality, say, "Sorry about that."

4/1/05: Magellania by Jules Verne

       “It will take two of us to carry the Indian to the long boat without jostling him. Leave the jaguar here, and you’ll come back to get it later.”
       Indeed, the most difficult challenge now was to follow the gap in the cliff that ended in the beach, whose incline required crawling to climb it and sliding to get down. The injured man was still unconscious, and his chest rose in weak, irregular breathing. However, Kaw-djer vowed to bring him back to the Wallah campground, dead or alive.
       He said, “His family will see him one last time, even if it will just be a dead body.”