Happy Friday, readers!
Each week I share book excerpts with:
- Book Beginnings on Fridays hosted by Rose City Reader, where bloggers share the first sentence or more of a current book, as well as any first impressions or initial thoughts they might have.
- The Friday 56 hosted by Freda’s Voice, where you grab a book and turn to page 56 (or 56% of an ebook), find one or more interesting sentences, and post them.
This week, I will be pulling excerpts from my most recent read: The Devil’s Half Mile by Paddy Hirsch.
Fans of Caleb Carr, Erik Larsen, and Gangs of New York will love this riveting historical thriller debut, set in a 1799 New York City.
Seven years after a financial crisis nearly toppled America, traders chafe at government regulations, racial tensions are rising, and corrupt financiers make back-door deals with politicians… 1799 was a hell of a year.
Thanks to Alexander Hamilton, America recovered from the financial panic of 1792, but the young country is still finding its way. When a young lawyer returns to prove his father’s innocence, he exposes a massive financial fraud that the perpetrators are determined to keep secret at any cost. And reaching the highest levels, the looming crisis could topple the nation.
Justy Flanagan leaned on the gunwale of the Netherleigh and watched two big men square up to each other on the wharf below. They were like a pair of cart horses, one black, the other white, their fellows in a half circle behind them, grim looks on their faces.
The Friday 56:
The Devil’s half-mile. A narrow, cobbled corridor, flanked with tall, gray stone buildings that ran steeply downhill from Trinity Church to the East River wharves. It thronged with traffic. The sidewalks were crammed with people: messengers and clerks in their black coats; delivery boys in their shirt-sleeves; shoeshine men with their boxes; crossing sweeps with their brooms and shovels. The noise was deafening: men shouting extravagant greetings or colorful abuse; merchants calling out the cost of their wares. And everywhere, all the time, the clatter of iron on stone, like a thousand hammers, as carriages and jigs of all shapes and sizes hauled up and down the hill, disgorging well-heeled men who hurried into the grand-looking buildings.
What are you reading this weekend? Feel free to join in with lines from your current read!