Every Friday, Marilyn Knapp Litt, who blogs at ClassicKindle.com, brings us her recommendation of a free classic book to discover (or rediscover) on Kindle. Find more of Marilyn’s recommendations at her blog, ClassicKindle.com, a guide to the best free and inexpensive classic literature for the Kindle. You can also get Marilyn’s blog on Kindle and I recommend that you “Like” the Classic Kindle Facebook page as well so you don’t miss anything. Here’s Marilyn’s post:

Booth Tarkington must be one of the best of a pack of forgotten writers. He won one of his two Pulitzers for the 1921 novel I am reviewing.

One of my favorite books is Tarkington’s Alice Adams. She is a very sympathetic heroine and I put her right up there with Jane Austen’s Lizzy.

Here is a taste. Alice goes to a party with her brother – who soon ditches her. She is left to pretend that she is waiting for her date. The book was published in 1921, but as Tarkington writes about people, not so much plot or place, this book is timeless.

She had now to practice an art that affords but a limited variety of methods, even to the expert: the art of seeming to have an escort or partner when there is none. The practitioner must imply, merely by expression and attitude, that the supposed companion has left her for only a few moments, that she herself has sent him upon an errand; and, if possible, the minds of observers must be directed toward a conclusion that this errand of her devising is an amusing one; at all events, she is alone temporarily and of choice, not deserted. She awaits a devoted man who may return at any instant.

Other people desired to sit in Alice’s nook, but discovered her in occupancy. She had moved the vacant chair closer to her own, and she sat with her arm extended so that her hand, holding her lace kerchief, rested upon the back of this second chair, claiming it. Such a preemption, like that of a traveller’s bag in the rack, was unquestionable; and, for additional evidence, sitting with her knees crossed, she kept one foot continuously moving a little, in cadence with the other, which tapped the floor. Moreover, she added a fine detail: her half-smile, with the under lip caught, seemed to struggle against repression, as if she found the service engaging her absent companion even more amusing than she would let him see when he returned: there was jovial intrigue of some sort afoot, evidently. Her eyes, beaming with secret fun, were averted from intruders, but sometimes, when couples approached, seeking possession of the nook, her thoughts about the absentee appeared to threaten her with outright laughter; and though one or two girls looked at her skeptically, as they turned away, their escorts felt no such doubts, and merely wondered what importantly funny affair Alice Adams was engaged in. She had learned to do it perfectly.

Maybe it is too revelatory to say why I liked this passage, but I spent many an hour at high school dances with no dance partner. And it is safe to say I felt impelled to look as if I was having a good time. Tarkington writes about people who seem real and it is always lovely to pick up a book from 90 years ago and find yourself in it.

Click here to get your free copy of Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington >>>

Every Friday, Marilyn Knapp Litt, who blogs at ClassicKindle.com, brings us her recommendation of a free classic book to discover (or rediscover) on Kindle. Find more of Marilyn’s recommendations at her blog, ClassicKindle.com, a guide to the best free and inexpensive classic literature for the Kindle. You can also get Marilyn’s blog on Kindle and I recommend that you “Like” the Classic Kindle Facebook page as well so you don’t miss anything. Here’s Marilyn’s post:

Diary of a Nursing Sister on the Western Front, 1914-1915, is a memoir published in 1915 by Anonymous. She was with British forces and little is known beyond what she left us with this account. However, I did a little digging and found the author is thought to be Kathleen Luard. Fitting perhaps that her dates are 1892 – ?

Diaries and works by women who served during WWI are very rare, so it is great to find this free treasure.

We are to rest to-day, to be ready for another train to-night if necessary. The line from the front to Rouen—where there are two General Hospitals—is cut; hence this appalling over-crowding at our base. When we got back this morning, nine of those we took off the trains on Sunday afternoon had died here, and one before he reached the hospital—three of tetanus. I haven’t heard how many at the other hospital at the Jesuit school—tetanus there too. Some of the amputations die of septic absorption and shock, and you wouldn’t wonder if you saw them.

The carnage on the battlefield and field hospitals is directed via train to these hospitals.

Taking 480 sick and wounded down to St Nazaire, with a junior staff nurse, one M.O., and two orderlies.

That is one nurse with four aides, caring for almost 500!

Just been feeding them all at Angers; it is a stupendous business. The train is miles long—not corridor or ambulance; they have straw to lie on the floors and stretchers. . . . I’ve been collecting the worst ones into carriages near ours all the way down when we stop; but of course you miss a good many. Got my haversack lined with jaconet and filled with cut-dressings, very convenient, as you have both hands free. We continually stop at little stations, so you can get to a good many of them, and we get quite expert at clawing along the footboards; some of the men, with their eyes, noses, or jaws shattered, are so extraordinarily good and uncomplaining. Got hold of a spout-feeder and some tubing at Angers for a boy in the Grenadier Guards, with a gaping hole through his mouth to his chin, who can’t eat, and cannot otherwise drink. The French people bring coffee, fruit, and all sorts of things to them when we stop.

Medical staff are often stress casualties after a war. They are in a position of never having to contemplate until the long years after. I would like to know more about Kathleen Luard.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Click here to pick up your free copy of Diary of a Nursing Sister on the Western Front >>>

Every Friday, Marilyn Knapp Litt, who blogs at ClassicKindle.com, brings us her recommendation of a free classic book to discover (or rediscover) on Kindle. Find more of Marilyn’s recommendations at her blog, ClassicKindle.com, a guide to the best free and inexpensive classic literature for the Kindle. You can also get Marilyn’s blog on Kindle and I recommend that you “Like” the Classic Kindle Facebook page as well so you don’t miss anything. Here’s Marilyn’s post:

The Man Who was Thursday: A Nightmare, is a 1908 novel by G.K. Chesterton.  It is a thriller about anarchists – considered the terrorists of their day.

I say that there are some inhabitants who may remember the evening if only by that oppressive sky. There are others who may remember it because it marked the first appearance in the place of the second poet of Saffron Park. For a long time the red-haired revolutionary had reigned without a rival; it was upon the night of the sunset that his solitude suddenly ended. The new poet, who introduced himself by the name of Gabriel Syme was a very mild-looking mortal, with a fair, pointed beard and faint, yellow hair. But an impression grew that he was less meek than he looked. He signalised his entrance by differing with the established poet, Gregory, upon the whole nature of poetry. He said that he (Syme) was poet of law, a poet of order; nay, he said he was a poet of respectability. So all the Saffron Parkers looked at him as if he had that moment fallen out of that impossible sky.

Well, not exactly your typical terrorist thriller . .. .

G.K. Chesterton is probably best known for his Father Brown stories, but this novel has its followers as well.  I suggest this for your unconventional winter read!

The next moment the smoke of his cigar, which had been wavering across the room in snaky twists, went straight up as if from a factory chimney, and the two, with their chairs and table, shot down through the floor as if the earth had swallowed them. They went rattling down a kind of roaring chimney as rapidly as a lift cut loose, and they came with an abrupt bump to the bottom.

If you take your thrillers with a bit of magical realism, this is the book for you.  It is short and pithy and well worth reading.

 Click here to pick up your free copy of The Man Who was Thursday: A Nightmare by G.K. Chesterton >>>