Bookmarker is a personal project by @dellsystem to help with retaining reading material. Source on GitHub.

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8 months, 4 weeks ago

where scabs worked the mine

So the armed caravan in broken down jalopies left our town and headed towards a nearby town where scabs worked the mine. When they arrived at the mine they found the entrance to the mine guarded by southern white women and teenagers armed with shotguns and rifles.

Instead of shooting it out righ…

—p.18 Rank and File: Personal Histories by Working-Class Organizers People Who Cannot Be Bought (9) missing author
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8 months, 4 weeks ago

influenced by middle-class intellectuals or foreigners

Again, it is often said, ''American workers do not develop radical ideas on the basis of their own experience, but only if influenced by middle-class intellectuals or foreigners." This book challenges that belief. A few of these organizers inherited their outlook on the world from their parents. Mo…

—p.6 Introduction (1) missing author
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8 months, 4 weeks ago

workers' movements were on the defensive

In the early 1970s, the real wages of working people in the United States began to decline. By the late 1980s, workers' movements were on the defensive. Concessionary contracts surrendered hard-won gains. Employers pushed "jointness," the "team concept," "quality circles," and other forms of labor-…

—p.ix Introduction to the Expanded Edition (ix) missing author
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8 months, 4 weeks ago

are flowers vain? project/teacher-story topic/beauty

When I came out again, an hour later, my mother was in bed reading a magazine; she looked as if she had been wounded in a dozen places. My sister sat in her room, in front of the mirror. Her hair streamed down the back of her neck and lay in touching, defenseless little curls on the towel she had o…

—p.18 My Mistress's Sparrow is Dead: Great Love Stories, from Chekhov to Munro FIRST LOVE AND OTHER SORROWS (1) by Harold Brodkey
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8 months, 4 weeks ago

love had not been innocent project/secret-life topic/heartbreak

Caro lay in her frozen bed and stared at the skylight, which was a sheet of clotted ice. She lay in darkness or in moonlight, remembering how, one evening of the previous year, she had come in from work to find Paul sitting at her table writing; and that he had got up and embraced her and asked, "H…

—p.166 The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard