Up for discussion:
Ask the Dust by John Fante
One night I was sitting on the bed in my hotel room on Bunker Hill, down in the very middle of Los Angeles.
The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham
I HAVE NEVER BEGUN a novel with more misgiving. If I call it a novel it is only because I don't know what else to call it. I have little story to tell and I end neither with a death nor a marriage.
Ask the Dust by John Fante
One night I was sitting on the bed in my hotel room on Bunker Hill, down in the very middle of Los Angeles.
The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham
I HAVE NEVER BEGUN a novel with more misgiving. If I call it a novel it is only because I don't know what else to call it. I have little story to tell and I end neither with a death nor a marriage.