Vocal Book Club
"Unlock Insights: 2 Captivating Art History Books to Spark Reflection"
1. "Qummut Qukiria!" is a groundbreaking exploration of the rich and diverse artistic traditions spanning Inuit and Sámi lands and beyond, offering readers a comprehensive and illuminating journey into the cultural landscapes of the circumpolar North. Authored by Anna Hudson, Heather Igloliorte, and Jan-Erik Lundström, this ambitious volume serves as a testament to the enduring vitality and significance of traditional and contemporary arts within Indigenous communities, providing a nuanced and multifaceted portrait of artistic expression across time and space.
By Akale Mandundu2 years ago in BookClub
From Thorns to Blooms
Freya's name was synonymous with trouble. With fiery red hair and a glint of defiance in her emerald eyes, she was the school's resident rebel. Skipping classes, detention halls were her second home, and her pranks were legendary, bordering on malicious. Teachers sighed, parents despaired, and Freya reveled in the chaos she created.
By ANNA CORAL2 years ago in BookClub
"Aliens Invaded and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt"
It was a quiet Tuesday night in Middletown, USA, when the unexpected happened. The sky was clear, stars twinkled, and the air was crisp. I had just settled down on my porch with a cup of chamomile tea when a bright light flashed across the sky, blinding me momentarily. My heart raced as I squinted, trying to make out the source of the light. It seemed to be descending rapidly, straight toward my backyard.
By Rasel Mahmud2 years ago in BookClub
Clocking Out of the Supernatural
Chloe wasn't your average thirteen-year-old. Sure, she enjoyed the occasional pop song and had a questionable obsession with glitter, but her true passion lay in the realm of the extraordinary – specifically, unearthing evidence of the supernatural. Her bedroom resembled a cluttered museum of the peculiar: a jar of "ghost breath" (stale air), a collection of "alien antennae" (twisted pipe cleaners), and a framed photo of her neighbor Mr. Johnson (labeled "possible vampire – sleeps all day").
By ANNA CORAL2 years ago in BookClub
The Daughter's Desolation. Content Warning.
The unforgiving sun beat down on Eva's back as she trudged across the cracked earth. Her once vibrant green eyes, now dull with exhaustion, scanned the horizon for any sign of life. The once fertile fields of her village lay barren, ravaged by a relentless drought. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a constant companion for weeks.
By ANNA CORAL2 years ago in BookClub
Silence
Poem that gives me strenght on hard times.. Sometimes, one needs to distance oneself to get closer; sometimes, one needs to remember to be remembered; sometimes, one needs to cry to open up; sometimes, one needs to commemorate to be commemorated. Sometimes, it is necessary to remain silent to hear, for if speaking excessively were beneficial, we would have two mouths and one ear. Therefore, it is essential to listen more and speak less. The brightness of silent can overshadow speech, as both the light of silence and the benefit of speech are concealed within it. I understand that everything that happens eventually falls silent. I understand that silence is profound and majestic. Let our silence speak volumes; let's find a language without words within ourselves, where only the two of us understand the sorrow. My heart, refrain from expressing too much; the more you express, the more your heart swells, making it harder to wait and increasing anxiety. My heart, speak less so our affairs may mature, so no wrongful words may be uttered in the sight of truth. My heart, remain silent like the letter 'alif'; spring is almost here. Endure, my heart, like the unseen waves within the sea; if there were any other solution besides waiting, believe me, it wouldn't stop you. But there is no other remedy; even medicine doesn't take effect without waiting, and flowers don't bloom before their time. My heart, remain silent until distant paths converge, until relief comes after distress, until our faces are moistened with tears of relief. My heart, trust in the decree of your Lord until it is realized, until your portion reaches you, until those who haven't received theirs understand that they have no master. My heart, remain silent until you see his coming, until you realize that pain turns into sweetness, until you see that his heart is tied to yours with the knot of love. My heart, remain silent until reasons emerge, until excuses fade away, until our destinies become intertwined. Despite all these silences, have faith that everything happens for the best. So, my heart, let every silence be an answer, let every silence be a testament to patience, faith, and love. Let silence be the balm to my wounds, as deep as the innermost cry of my heart, heard only by those who truly listen. Let silence speak, and may the mercy of Shams Tabrizi be upon us.
By Batuhan Akkus2 years ago in BookClub
Review of Mrs. Rochester's Ghost
Jane is a writer for a small cable network show. When the show is canceled, her friend, Otis, invites her to come to California to tutor the daughter of a very wealthy man. Jane agrees and meets Evander Rochester's daughter, Sophia, age thirteen. Sophia's mother went on a relief trip to Africa and dies from a peanut allergy, and Evan finds out he is Sophia's father. He has no relationship with the girl and knows nothing about being a father. Jane is to tutor the girl in her studies, mainly in French, and to care for the dogs on the estate.
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in BookClub
Flight of the Phoenix Weaver
Asala, with eyes the color of twilight and hair like spun moonlight, was a weaver's daughter, her life as intricately woven as the tapestries her father crafted. Her nimble fingers, though small, possessed an uncanny talent, whispering stories into silk and dreams into wool. Every thread held a memory, every knot a whispered tale. But fate, a fickle weaver itself, decided to unravel Asala's life with a cruel twist. A raging storm at sea claimed her fragile vessel, leaving behind only a half-finished tapestry depicting a magnificent phoenix rising from a pyre of crimson flames.
By ANNA CORAL2 years ago in BookClub
## Princess Tiara and the Whispering Waterfall
Princess Tiara loathed tiaras. The heavy jewels dug into her scalp, their sparkle a constant reminder of the gilded cage her life felt like. Unlike her sisters, who dreamt of balls and eligible suitors, Tiara yearned for adventure, for tales whispered on dusty scrolls and maps crinkled with the touch of explorers. The library, not the rose garden, became her sanctuary. There, with the scent of aged parchment and the hushed whispers of forgotten knowledge, Tiara felt truly alive.
By ANNA CORAL2 years ago in BookClub
**The Day the Eagle Stole My Hot Dog** . Content Warning.
**The Day the Eagle Stole My Hot Dog** It was a perfect summer afternoon at the park, the kind where the sun glinted off the lake, and the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the scent of sizzling hot dogs from the nearby vendor. My friends and I had gathered for our annual picnic, a cherished tradition since our high school days. We laid out our blankets, set up the grill, and unleashed an arsenal of snacks that would have fed a small army.
By Rasel Mahmud2 years ago in BookClub
