Fiction
- Action & Adventure 178
- Biographical 13
- Christian 59
- Classics 6965
- Coming of Age 3
- Contemporary Women 3
- Erotica 8
- Espionage/Intrigue 12
- Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology 235
- Family Life 169
- Fantasy 115
- Gay 1
- General 595
- Ghost 31
- Historical 808
- Horror 42
- Humorous 159
- Jewish 25
- Legal 2
- Medical 22
- Mystery & Detective 313
- Political 49
- Psychological 41
- Religious 64
- Romance 154
- Sagas 11
- Science Fiction 726
- Sea Stories 113
- Short Stories (single author) 537
- Sports 10
- Suspense 1
- Technological 8
- Urban Life 29
- War & Military 173
- Westerns 199
Fiction Books
Sort by:
I The freakish little leader of the orchestra, newly imported from Sicily to New York, tossed his conductor's wand excitedly through the air, drowning with musical thunders the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. Yet neither his apish demeanour nor the deafening noises that responded to every movement of his agile body detracted attention from the figure of Reginald Clarke and the young...
more...
Chapter I THE MYSTERY OF THE RUG To judge of an Oriental rug rightly, it must be looked at from several points of view, or, at least, from two aspects; against the light and with the light. From the first standpoint, against the light of knowledge, speaking figuratively, there may be seen only a number of rude and awkward figures in crude colours scattered erratically on a dark or dingy-looking...
more...
The Garret And The Garden Or Low Life High Up. Sudden Friendships. In the midst of the great wilderness—we might almost say the wilds—of that comparatively unknown region which lies on the Surrey side of the Thames, just above London Bridge, there sauntered one fine day a big bronzed seaman of middle age. He turned into an alley, down which, nautically speaking, he rolled into a shabby little...
more...
CHAPTER XVIII. Let a king and a beggar converse freely together, and it is the beggar's fault if he does not say something which makes the king lift his hat to him. The scene shifts back to Gatesboro', the forenoon of the day succeeding the memorable exhibition at the Institute of that learned town. Mr. Hartopp was in the little parlour behind his country-house, his hours of business much...
more...
I RUTH AND GODFREY The old street, keeping its New England Sabbath afternoon so decently under its majestic elms, was as goodly an example of its sort as the late seventies of the century just gone could show. It lay along a north-and-south ridge, between a number of aged and unsmiling cottages, fronting on cinder sidewalks, and alternating irregularly with about as many larger homesteads that sat back...
more...
by:
Edith Wharton
I Stilling, that night after dinner, had surpassed himself. He always did, Wrayford reflected, when the small fry from Highfield came to dine. He, Cobham Stilling, who had to find his bearings and keep to his level in the big heedless ironic world of New York, dilated and grew vast in the congenial medium of Highfield. The Red House was the biggest house of the Highfield summer colony, and Cobham...
more...
by:
Edna Ferber
BROADWAY TO BUENOS AIRES The door marked "MRS. MCCHESNEY" was closed. T. A. Buck, president of the Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company, coming gaily down the hall, stopped before it, dismayed, as one who, with a spicy bit of news at his tongue's end, is met with rebuff before the first syllable is voiced. That closed door meant: "Busy. Keep out." "She'll be reading a...
more...
by:
Thomas Hoover
Foreword Anyone who examinesthe Zen arts is immediately struck by how modern they seem. Many of the most famous stone gardens are abstract expressionism pure and simple, created out of found objects. The ceramics of the sixteenth-century Zen artists could be interchanged with the rugged pots of our own contemporary crafts movement and few people would notice a difference. Ancient Zen...
more...
by:
Ralph Adams Cram
No. 252 Rue M. le Prince. When in May, 1886, I found myself at last in Paris, I naturally determined to throw myself on the charity of an old chum of mine, Eugene Marie d'Ardeche, who had forsaken Boston a year or more ago on receiving word of the death of an aunt who had left him such property as she possessed. I fancy this windfall surprised him not a little, for the relations between the aunt...
more...
CHAPTER I When the knell of my thirtieth birthday sounded, I suddenly realised, with a desolate feeling at the heart, that I was alone in the world. It was true I had many and good friends, and I was blessed with interests and occupations which I had often declared sufficient to satisfy any not too exacting human being. Moreover, a small but sufficient competency was mine, allowing me reasonable...
more...