In the absence of anything better to do with my leisure time (apart of course from consulting all your lovely blogs and firing the occasional inane comment at them), I read a lot. Every fortnight or so, I tramp down to Waterstones and buy whatever of the latest '3 for 2' offers catch my eye. [Should that be 'B3G1F?] Failing that, I trawl my shelves for rereadables. All that may change soon. In the meantime, here are my twitteresque reviews of the latest half-dozen:
Gods Without Men, Hari Kunzru: Sub-early-Pynchon without the jokes. Can the peyote, Coyote.
The Terrible Privacy of Maxwell Sim, Jonathan Coe: I did laugh a lot. Good vignettes, and an outrageously outrageous ending.
Killshot, Elmore Leonard: Anyone wanna write a thriller with real people on both sides? Bring it on. (Actually, 'both' is misleading. There as many sides as there are characters.)
The Free World, David Bezmozgis: Beautifully written sub-Tolstoyian epic of Russian emigres to Italy in the late seventies. Easily the best new thing I've read in months. [Spoiler alert: some of the endings are happy (I think).]
At Home, Bill Bryson: A miracle! Bryson has managed to write a bloated, humourless, really boring book.
Life, Keith Richards: You had to be there. And understand open five-string tunings. I was, and I do.
And your off-the-shelf bonus ball: The Regeneration trilogy by Pat Barker.