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    • Hayley

      Signing Up   11/06/2018

      Signing Up is once again available. New members are very welcome
    • Hayley

      March Supporter Giveaway   03/02/2019

      So March has crept up on us and I'm thrilled to finally show you the GREAT (he he...) March giveaway!     This time we have a gorgeous print of The Great Gatsby's most famous line from thestorygift.co.uk AND a Great Gatsby tea from the Literary Tea Company! This particular tea is Peach Blossom (which sounds delicious and I kind of wish I could keep it myself...) and the tin features another Gatsby quote.  If you'd like to see the other literary teas available (there are lots, I spent ages looking) you can find them both at the Literary Tea Company's etsy store (https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/LiteraryTeaCompany) or at their own website, theliteraryteacompany.co.uk .   As always, supporters are automatically entered into the giveaway and if you're not a supporter but want to be included in this months giveaway you can become a supporter on patreon here... https://www.patreon.com/bookclubforum .   A winner will be chosen at random on the last day of the month. Good luck!  

Faineant

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About Faineant

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  1. Favorite Poet?

    Favourites change a lot, but a stern contender based on its well worn pages in my library is my man Joe Bolton. Tremendous talent. His collection, Days of Summer Gone, is a must have if you can find it for a reasonable price. I once dropped it behind the radiator next to my toilet and actually took the radiator out to retrieve it, it's that damned good. Here's a good'n: The Light We Dance Through This is the afterlife. Her gin- tinged breath came like a cool injection in my ear. We were dancing after midnight in this place called 32nd Avenue, dancing over cigarette butts & against bodies not our own & through a light of such blue density it almost wasn’t light at all. But outside, there were stars, & though all around us the city was playing games with its deranged souls, we danced three times around the parking lot– a waltz, for chrissake, a fudgeing waltz. That was 1981, & each year there are fewer & fewer people I’ll admit as my acquaintances, & fewer still I’ll dance with, & it’s probably the case that, on those all-too-rare occasions, the light we dance through is the closest we’ll ever come to any sort of afterlife.
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