The mechanism of reading can be a pleasure in itself. I read a lot of crap for escapism. I think most of us can recognise and enjoy brilliance but the crap one indulges in is very individual. The details of my crapulous penchants are not something I want to publicise. Occasionally, however, I come across books that I'd like to remember and am not embarrassed to admit to, so that's what this post is for. I think I'll just keep editing it as an aide-memoire. So here goes.
Dan Fesperman, Lie in the Dark - novel set in Sarajevo - got me thinking.
Maira Kalman: The Principles of Uncertainty
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