I am currently reading which is about the 4th Modesty Blaise book I've read. In this one we go back to the days when The Network was just being wound up. Modesty has one last caper to achieve.

I just finished The Exception by Christian Jungersen. It's really good, and has got me a little bit obsessed with the psychology of genocide.

I'm currently reading a simplistic history of the Persians (Achemedids, Arsacids and Sassanids). It's interesting stuff but it's very badly written so is taking me ages to wade through 200 pages of it.

And what are you reading now...?

I recently finished the immensely enjoyable Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon, and before embarking on some Natsuo Kirino grimness (Grotesque) I'm easing through the fairly fluffy Gold by Dan Rhodes (an author I know nothing about).

Untold Stories by Alan Bennett: marvellous writing, as ever, displaying his wonderful ear for phrase and his gentle and human understanding of the world he finds himself in. However, at times his customary self-deprecation sometimes seems to edge into a determination to reveal and draw attentions to the more unpleasant aspects of his character, as if he's bent on dispelling the image he has that I've heard described as that of "the nation's teddy bear".

The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene, prompted by a couple of otfers and by my wish to get up to speed on all this esoteric new stuff that's going in in theoretical physics. And it's very good indeed, written clearly and even patiently for the layman readership. He seems to have taken to heart the publishers' dictum that each equation means a halving of sales - there aren't any, but the book has no less a feel of precision for that. It meanders a bit when he's writing about the history of his own work, but this in itself is a nice glimpse into the world and workings of high-level academic research at the forefront of physics and mathematics. For me, the one irritation is the American writer's habit of mixing imperial and metric units, which as worst-things-you-can-say-about-a-book go isn't bad at all.

It's good enough to spark a few supertsing-theory-related questions in my mind, and I might get around to starting a thread seeking a bit of extra enlightenment from our resident experts one of these days.

QUOTE:
And what are you reading now...?

Me? Erm.
The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
and Eating Less by Gillian Riley
and Green Rider by Kristen Britain.

But there's not much to say about any of them. Well there's a lot to say about Patanjali but I'm not sure what, yet.

Just finished The Siege of Mecca, about half way through The Two Faces of Islam.

Just started The Geographer's Library.

Half-way through Reading Lolita in Tehran.

Just finished a re-reading of H.M.S. Surprise.

Waiting for the amazon [US] release of Soccer in a Football World

Matt (Crusoe), I saw Gold for the first time in Waterstones this week, it reminded me that I read Dan Rhodes's Anthology about 10 years ago (if not more) which is great!

human smoke by nicholson baker.

The Age Of Assassins, a book about Putin and his state apparatus, translated from the original Russian. I've got to review it. It's balls-achingly dull -- every page is a laundry list of dates and names but the author cannot tell a story to save his life.

Just finished Calcio, by John Foot.

Just started The Unsinkable Rubber Ducks by Christopher Brookmyre, which Chippy very kindly leant me.

Next up: Dynamo, the story of Dynamo Kiev (or whatever it's called).

I'm about 3/4 of the way through Underworld by Don DeLillo, not really enjoying it but am too far along to quit. It better start redeeming itself.

Yesterday, in Urban Outfitters, I saw a small cookbook called Good Kitchen Magic. I wonder if it's any good.

I'm nearly finished Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, which took me a good while to get into but is actually a terrifically written, extremely acute novel about class and gender and the stifling restrictions on personal freedom they impose. A properly good feminist book I reckon.

Second try on Master and Margarita by M. Bulgakov. Gave up the first time as I found the translation insufferable. Enjoying it immensely this time around.