Literary Fiction

Literary fiction is a term that has come into common usage in the early 1960s. The term is principally used to distinguish "serious fiction" which is a work that claims to hold literary merit, in comparison from genre fiction and popular fiction. The name literature is sometimes used for this genre, although it can also refer to a broader category of writing. ...more

New Releases Tagged "Literary Fiction"

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Survival Tips: Stories

Miriam Gershow (Goodreads Author)

Release date: Mar 19, 2024

It's the 3-month anniversary of the publication of Survival Tips! Win a signed copy of this collection of award-winning and contemporary stories. ...more
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Availability: 5 copies available, 3096 people requesting

Giveaway dates: Jun 19 - Jul 19, 2024

Countries available: U.S.

Don't Be a Stranger

Susan Minot (Goodreads Author)

Release date: Oct 15, 2024

A mesmerizing new novel from the author of the story of a woman swept into a love affair at mid-lifeIvy Cooper is 52 years old when Ansel Fleming firs ...more
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Availability: 15 copies available, 3734 people requesting

Giveaway dates: Jul 01 - Jul 19, 2024

Countries available: U.S.

Beartooth

Callan Wink (Goodreads Author)

Release date: Feb 11, 2025

Two brothers in dire straits, living on the edge of Yellowstone, agree to a desperate act of survival in this taut, propulsive novel reminiscent of th ...more
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Availability: 100 copies available, 8335 people requesting

Giveaway dates: Jun 20 - Jul 20, 2024

Countries available: U.S.

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The Handmaid’s Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1)

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Quotes Tagged “Literary Fiction”

“ In her usual manner, Merkel spoke in German. It is worth pointing out, however, that before the translator had an opportunity to convert her statements to English, Obama gave the chancellor and the press a big smile, saying, ‘I think what she said was good. I’m teasing.’ The laughter in the room drowned out the sounds of the cameras clicking and flashing, with Merkel’s giggle and smile among the loudest. ”
― Claudia Clark, Dear Barack: The Extraordinary Partnership of Barack Obama and Angela Merkel

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“ I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the c I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer. We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?” He, of course, replied, “No.” “Well, we’re going to a better place.” When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds. Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.” “Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked. “My father’s a ghost,” he whispered. I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would. He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path. “Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer. ...more ”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

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