The Map and the Territory - Michel Houellebecq

The first book I've read since re-discovering LSE's Shaw Library, of which I'm probably the only user right now (between the fact that term has ended that the fact that, well, nobody really reads anyway).

Having never read any Houellebecq I knew that I had to give him a chance at some point. I was biased before the start, knowing that he's an arrogant reactionary ass, and with this book I discovered that he is all that, but also a genius.

It takes a boundless ego to put oneself as a larger-than-life secondary character whose aura can be perceived across the entire novel like Darth Vader's presence can be felt on the Death Star, and I think he had the time of his life describing the aftermath of his own murder, but the book is surprisingly deep in its reflections on the ageing process, in its handling of love, and crucially in its poignant descriptions of the art world (and the opening with Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst is just so incredibly good).

L'Angelo di Avrigue - Francesco Biamonti

Reasons why I really, really liked the book:

- It was given to me by one of the few friends who give me books as presents, and who I don't think has ever gone wrong (though at the moment my baby daughter appears very attracted by the cats in a copy of Maus that she gave me years ago, and I'm not quite sure that's a good thing)
- It is about the region where the Alps dive into the Mediterranean, the place of many of my summer holidays
- It is about the lost souls who lose their lives for one reason or another on those mountains - and this is a time when desperate migrants try to make their way from Italy to France on those very paths
- It's written in a style that's halfway between Fenoglio and Izzo
- It has one of Cezanne's landscapes on its cover, those were the first works of art that I truly came to love as a kid, and this would have been enough by itself

Lucky Jim - Kingsley Amis

One can only go so many years in the UK without reading any Kingsley Amis. And one can only work so many years in a univeristy without reading Lucky Jim. 

A couple of months removed from the book, I'm now wondering what I was left with after I finished it. Turns out, not so much - the fact that the academic world doesn't seem to have changed that much over the past 60 years is interesting but not particularly surprising, and as for the humour I'm afraid it's a bit dated (or maybe I should learn to refer to my colleagues as "old chaps" and try to be more quintessentially British?) and, at the cost of sounding blasphemous, I'd pick a lighthearted David Nicholls novel over Lucky Jim if all I need is a bit of fun. 

A Universal History of Infamy - Jorge Luis Borges

At a time when I had virtually no books left to read at home, I started going back to my wonderful Meridiani (a collection of books presenting the complete, or at least the best, works of hundreds of authors in finely printed volumes) and picked up Borges.

Having only read a few of his short stories years ago (and having been left relatively unimpressed) I was happy to give him another chance, and so went for what is apparently considered as the first work of magical realism.

The short stories are curious and gripping, and knowing some of the characters discussed makes them more interesting. In the end I liked the book a lot more than I had expected, so much so that I decided to read another Borges straight afterwards - however, I limped through the first short story of the following book (The Aleph) and decided to put it back on the shelf, where it will probably remain for quite a while.

Sei Stato Felice, Giovanni - Giovanni Arpino

A book that I would have loved to love, because my name is in its title and because Arpino comes from my hometown, but one that left me remarkably unmoved. A shame considering that the author is the genius behind Il Buio e il Miele (the basis for the movie Scent of a Woman), but I guess Italian coming-of-age stories from that period, much like Fellini's I Vitelloni, are just not for me.

James Baldwin can rest assured - Giovanni's Room is still easily my favourite Giovanni-focused book!

How To Be Both - Ali Smith

And thus I discovered Ali Smith. At the tender age of 31 (me, not Ali Smith).

How To Be Both is easily one of the best books I've read this year, and we are at 29 so far. This has to do partially with the fact that it's a novel of two halves that can be read in whichever order, and what blows my mind is that it can actually really work like that. Another reason is surely the decision to focus on Ferrara, a city that I have great memories of visiting as a kid and one that I went back to a couple of years ago with great joy.

Oddly enough, despite the factually questionable stories of disguise in the Renaissance (though extremely interesting from a 21st century perspective) Smith doesn't give a sickening sweet and fake picture of Italy as so many authors do, and that's one of the novels' greatest achievements.

And it also made me want to go back to the National Gallery, the London museum that I have neglected the most over the past 8 years (though I probably spent enough time there in my first 4 years to make up for the prolonged absence).

Far From the Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy

Well, I was bound to be back at some point. Oddly enough, I've been reading my usual (large) amount of books but haven't blogged in months - I possibly have to blame fatherhood and a move in between, but hey.

At this point, I've read Far From the Madding Crowd months ago and it's already starting to get blurry in my mind, but what has definitely remained with me is the fact that, somehow, I actually enjoyed it.

Pastoral, romantic, bucolic, 19th century-esque and all, but, one way or another, I ended up liking it. Maybe it's because shepherd Oak is such a wonderful figure, or maybe it's because I have always had a tendency to be bored to death by 19th century novels in my native Italian, but have had fewer similar issues with authors from other countries.

This is not to say that I absolutely loved it, because it doesn't really speak to my heart for obvious reason, but it's a book that was granted the right to move to our new flat with us, an honour that during times of austerity (I'm allowing myself enough books to fill an IKEA bookshelf, but not more for lack of space) should be respected.