Libba Bray

Also known as Martha Elizabeth Bray

American teen writer

Person · Open Library

Works: 76

Top works

Lair of Dreams: The Diviners Book 2
21 Proms
Lair of Dreams
Before the Devil Breaks You
Summer days and summer nights

via Open Library + Wikidata

Music · MusicBrainz

Type: Person
Active from: 1964-03-11

via MusicBrainz · CC0

Listeners · Last.fm

Listeners: 259
Total plays: 13,088

Libba Bray (born Martha E. Bray on March 11, 1964 in Alabama) is an author of young adult novels, including the books A Great and Terrible Beauty and Rebel Angels. The third book in the trilogy, The Sweet Far Thing, is due to be out December 26, 2007. She lived in Texas until she was 26 years old. After that she moved to New York City, New York, where she now lives with her husband and eight-year-old son. Her father was a preacher and her mother, a teacher. In her autobiography on her official

via Last.fm · Libba Bray

Recent publications · Crossref

5 total works indexed

Global Cancer Statistics 2020: GLOBOCAN Estimates of Incidence and Mortality Worldwide for 36 Cancers in 185 Countries
· 2021 · cited 77,875x
Global cancer statistics 2018: GLOBOCAN estimates of incidence and mortality worldwide for 36 cancers in 185 countries
· 2018 · cited 53,557x
Global cancer statistics
· 2011 · cited 23,166x
Cancer incidence and mortality worldwide: Sources, methods and major patterns in GLOBOCAN 2012
· 2014 · cited 21,549x
Global cancer statistics 2022: GLOBOCAN estimates of incidence and mortality worldwide for 36 cancers in 185 countries
· 2024 · cited 18,769x

via Crossref · CC0

Quotes

“People always think they know other people, but they don’t. Not really. I mean, maybe they know things about them, like they won’t eat doughnuts or they like action movies or whatever. But they don’t know what their friends do in their rooms alone at night or what happened to them when they were kids or if they feel fucked up and sad for no reason at all.”
“You’ve been assigned an identity since birth. Then you spend the rest of your life walking around in it to see if it really fits. You try on all these different selves and abandon just as many. But really it’s about dismantling all that false armor, getting down to what’s real.”
““Oh, hello," Dr. M says, shaking Balder's hand. "Wonderful costume. I'm a bit of a role player myself on the weekends. Tell me, where did you get the helmet?" "It was forged in the North, blessed by the hands of Odin, given to me by my mother, Frigg," Balder answers. "Lovely. I got mine on the Internet.””
“Balder holds up a completely blank rune. Wyrd. The beginning and the end. Fate. I don't know what that means, but it's not doing anything to uncreep me.”
“The dark does not weep for itself because there is no light. Rather, it accepts that it is the dark. It is said that even the gods must die." He winks. "But not without one hell of a fight.””
“Marisol does a silly dance with Balder and the screw, one in each hand, so that nobody gets the idea that she takes tins — or anything else, for that matter — seriously. And just like that, something in the cosmos shifts. A butterfly flaps its wings in South America. Snow falls in Chicago. You give an idiot a stupid magic screw and it turns out to be a necessary part after all.”