Asked whether the book qualified as a thriller, Sir Peter referenced The Godfather: "You can see as much Don Corleone in this book as DH Lawrence".
Ms. Lowell's book qualifies as an addiction memoir about alcohol abuse, but not a dull or maudlin one.
Still this book does qualify as a stand alone story and failure to have read the first two should not deter anyone from reading this one.
More often, they're given them by adults, and both of these books qualify as the kind of present a kindly aunt might give.
Not all the examples in Gladwell's book qualify as such deliberate practice: writing computer programs and playing ice-hockey matches, for instance, may not count.
The detail is thoughtful and intricate in ways that hardly qualify this book as the stuff of chick lit.
Amid the antic, hilarious, gender-bending battle of the sexes that Ms. Willett whips up in this book, either one may qualify as a reason to kill.
The problem is, though, that I can't think of anyone who better qualifies as this book's target audience than me.
There's nothing in this book about mythmaking, but that surely qualifies as well.
He doesn't read any of it at all? "Some of it, here and there," she qualifies, "but not this book.
