Best Books For The Year Of 2017

by Zaryyab Salman
Best Books For The Year Of 2017

Discover our editors’ picks for the Best Books For The Year Of 2017 (so far) in literature & fiction, mystery, thriller & suspense, romance, cookbooks, children’s books and more. Download Latest Kevin Maurer Books PDF

Best Books For The Year Of 2017

Here are the top Best Books For The Year Of 2017, Buy now and enjoy to read.

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness (Click Here)


The Ministry Of Utmost Happiness

She lived in the graveyard like a tree. At dawn she saw the crows off and welcomed the bats home. At dusk she did the opposite. Between shifts she conferred with the ghosts of vultures that loomed in her high branches. She felt the gentle grip of their talons like an ache in an amputated limb. She gathered they weren’t altogether unhappy at having excused themselves and exited from the story.

When she first moved in, she endured months of casual cru­elty like a tree would-without flinching. She didn’t rum co sec which small boy had thrown a stone ac her, didn’t trane her neck to read the insults scratched into her bark. When people called her names-clown without a circus, queen without a palace-she let the hun blow through her branches like a breeze and used the music of her rustling leaves as balm to ease the pain.

It was only after Ziauddin, the blind imam who had once led the prayers in the Fatehpuri Masjid, befriended her and began co visit her that the neighborhood decided it was time to leave her in peace. Read Full Book (Click Here).

Killers of the Flower Moon (Click Here)

Killers Of The Flower Moon

In April, millions of tiny flowers spread over the blackjack hills and vast prairies in rhc Osage territory of Oklahoma. There are Johnny-jump-ups and spring beauties and little bluets. The Osage writer John Joseph Mathews observed that che galaxy of petals makes it look as if che “gods had left confetti.” In May, “When coy­otes howl beneath an unnervingly large moon, taller plants, such as spiderworts and black-eyed Susans, begin to creep over the tinier blooms, stealing their light and water: The necks of the smaller flowers break and their petals flutter away, and before long they are buried underground. This is why the Osage Indians refer to May as the time of the flower-killing’ moon.

On May 24, 1921, Mollie Burkhart, a resident of the Osage settlement town of Gray Horse, Oklahoma, began to fear that something had happened to one of her three sisters, Anna Brown. Thirty-four, and less than a year older than Mollie, Anna had disappeared three days earlier. She had often gone on “sprees,” as her family disparagingly called them: dancing and drinking with friends until dawn. But this time one night had passed, and then another, and. Anna had nor shown up on Mollie’s front stoop as she usually did, with her long black hair slightly frayed and her dark eyes shining like glass. Read Full Book (Click Here)

Beartown (Click Here)

A Novel Written by Fredrik Backman


It’s a Friday in early March in Beartown and nothing has happened yet. Everyone is waiting. Tomorrow, the Beartown Ice Hockey Club’s junior ceam is playing in the semifinal of the biggest youth tournament in che country. How important can something like thac be? In most places, not so important, of course. But Beartown isn’t most places.

Bang. Bang. Bang bang bang.

Town wakes early, like it does every day; small towns need a head start if they’re going to have any chance in the world. The rows of cars in the parking Joe outside the factory are already covered with snow; people are standing in silence lines which their eyes half-open and their minds half-closed, waiting for their electronic punch cards to verify their existence to the clocking-in machine. They stamp the slush off their boots with autopilot eyes and answering-machine voices while they wait for their drug of choice-caffeine or nicotine or sugar-to kick in and render their bodies at least tolerably functional until the first break.

Out on the road the commuters set off for bigger towns beyond the forest; their gloves slam against heating vents and their curses are the sore you only chink of uttering when you’re drunk, dying, or sitting in a far-too-cold Peugeot far too early in the morning. Read Full Book (Click Here)

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