Of all the novels written during the 20th century, which

Lord of the Rings

>Tfw got "select all storefronts until there are none left"
>There were 12 storefronts

Can't say I have read any that I would describe as comfy

Maybe Stoner?

>>9098230
use legacy captcha

>>9098230

Refresh that shit, you can keep refreshing till you get select the square with a stop sign in it.

Or just switch to legacy captcha in options.

The Worm Ouroboros is comfy as fuck if you can eat the prose without choking. Buff dudes killing the shit out of each other in a larger-than-life war with no critique or meta-commentary, just aesthetic as fuck saga-esque writing and manly battles.

Naked wrestling.

Lavishly descriptions of feasts and outfits

At the end they kill all the Witchlanders and ask the goddess they rescued to bring them back so they can kill them again, and she does.

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46KB, 185x299px

Nothing compares to the comfy of Mole and Ratty's friendship. The chapter about the Piper at the Gates of Dawn resonates with something in me I can't describe.

'It's like music— far away music,' said the Mole nodding drowsily.

'So I was thinking,' murmured the Rat, dreamful and languid. 'Dance-music— the lilting sort that runs on without a stop— but with words in it, too— it passes into words and out of them again— I catch them at intervals— then it is dance-music once more, and then nothing but the reeds' soft thin whispering.'

'You hear better than I,' said the Mole sadly. 'I cannot catch the words.'

'Let me try and give you them,' said the Rat softly, his eyes still closed. 'Now it is turning into words again— faint but clear— Lest the awe should dwell— And turn your frolic to fret— You shall look on my power at the helping hour— But then you shall forget! Now the reeds take it up— forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and a whisper. Then the voice returns—

'Lest limbs be reddened and rent— I spring the trap that is set— As I loose the snare you may glimpse me there— For surely you shall forget! Row nearer, Mole, nearer to the reeds! It is hard to catch, and grows each minute fainter.

'Helper and healer, I cheer— Small waifs in the woodland wet— Strays I find in it, wounds I bind in it— Bidding them all forget! Nearer, Mole, nearer! No, it is no good; the song has died away into reed-talk.'

>>9098265
Such a great book for kids. I have fond memories of my mother reading it to me.

Steps, jerzy kosinski

>>9098221
what's the 20th century mean. like what number years. since 2000?

>>9098395
It's a movie studio

>>9098395
it's a little ambiguous, but I'm pretty sure it's related to the 20nd decade of each century

>>9098395
>20th century
What did he mean by this?

>>9098395
yeah close enough

>>9098395
Sure. Why not?