| QB VII | Leon Uris | The corporal cadet stepped out of the guard hut and squinted out
over the field. A shadowy figure ran through the knee-high grass
toward him. The guard lifted a pair of binoculars. The man,
half stumbling, carried a single battered suitcase. He waved and
gasped a greeting in Polish. | Buy | |
| Quarantine | Jim Crace | Miri's husband was shouting in his sleep, not words that she could recognize but simple, blurting fanfares of distress. | Buy | |
| Quartered Safe Out Here | George MacDonald Fraser | It is satisfying, and at the same time slightly eerie, to read in an official military history of an action in which you took part, even as a very minor and bewildered participant. | Buy | |
| Queed | Henry Sydnor Harrison | It was a five of a November afternoon, crisp and sharp, and
already running into dusk. Down the street came a girl and a
dog, rather a small girl and quite a behemothian dog. If she had
been a shade smaller, or he a shade more behemothian, the thing
would have approached a parody on one's settled idea of a girl
and a dog. She had enough height to save that, but it was the
narrowest sort of squeak. | Buy | |
| Quest for a Maid | Frances Mary Hendry | When I was nine years old, I hid under a table and heard my
sister kill a king. | Buy | |
| Quinn's Book | William Kennedy | I, Daniel Quinn, neither the first nor the last of a line of such Quinn's, set eyes on Maud the wondrous on a late December day in 1849 on the banks of the river of the aristocrats and paupers, just as the great courtesan Magdalena Colón, also known as La Última, a woman whose presence turned men into spittling, masturbating pigs, boarded a skiff to carry her across the river's icy water from Albany to Greenbush, her first stop en route to the city of Troy, a community of iron, where later that evening she was scheduled to enact, yet again, her role as the lascivious Lais, that fabled prostitute who spurned Demosthenes' gold and yielded free to Diogenes, the virtuous, impecunious tub-dweller. | Buy | |
| Quo Vadis | Henryk Sienkiewicz | It was close to noon before Petronius came awake, feeling as
drained and listless and detached as always. He was a guest at
one of Nero's banquets the evening before and the orgy dragged on
late into the night, and his health hadn't been all that good
anyway for some time. He told himself that waking in the morning
was a kind of mental and physical paralysis where neither his
mind nor his body was capable of action. | Buy | |
