Così Giocano le Bestie Giovani - Davide Longo

A book that I read while on holiday in Italy, and something that I used to break up the never-ending task of reading Paul Auster's "4321" - something that hopefully will end at some point this weekend.

As I said in my last post, Longo's prose remains unparalleled in contemporary Italian literature, and this dark detective story is extremely captivating. There are a couple of characters I could have lived without (the counsellor/psychiatrist/psychologist, and, erm, the dog), but other than that it remained a very enjoyable read.

Enjoyable because it's again about Turin, because it's about Italy's dark recent past, and because it made me love the character of Corso Bramard, something that his previous book hadn't managed to do.

A Single Man - Christopher Isherwood

Isherwood is probably, well surely, one of those authors I should have approached way earlier but didn't. Hey, at least I did watch the movie version of A Single Man when it came out and, despite the fact that some critics had their doubts, I found it absolutely masterful (even when some scenes looked like modelling ads).

That said, there were elements in the novel that pleasantly surprised me (first and foremost the fact that the protagonist doesn't have suicidal ideas) and easily made this one of the best books I've read this year. I don't quite know whether that's because of the location, because of the depth of the characters, because of Jim's constant subtle presence, or simply because it's beautifully written.

The Childhood of Jesus and the Schooldays of Jesus - J.M. Coetzee

Two hardcover books from the stock clearance section of the Barbican library bought for a grand total of 50p. That would be a good buy for any author, let alone someone of the calibre of Coetzee.

Both books follow the same story, and while I find certain aspects profoundly fascinating (and eerily current) I was ultimately bothered by the magic undertones of the two novels, particularly the second.

The idea of two migrants who reach the shore of an unknown country, unable to tell (or remember) anything of their previous escape, tied together despite not being father and son is an extremely compelling one. And yet the abstract discussions about letters, numbers and, ultimately, dance, are a bit too much for me to bear. In particular towards the end, where I so wouldn't have wanted to see Simon start to dance.

All the characters are full of mysteries and miseries (not just Simon and David, but everyone else too). I just wish someone was a bit plainer and a bit easier to understand...

Lanzarote - Michel Houellebecq

Ah, Houellebecq - sure, he's an arrogant ass who uses his real or supposed insecurities to spit venom on half of the world, but he writes so very well.

Lanzarote is the sort of book that you read during a single bus ride (or at least that's what I did, the one time I didn't run or cycle back from work this summer). Possibly because of its short size, it has way less nastiness than the other books by the same author that I've read so far. And for once, at least some of the groups that Houellebecq attacks are made up of people that I don't feel the desperate need to defend.

Add to that the fact that I believe Houellebecq picks the perfect location for this book, an almost lunar island that manages to attract hordes of tourists nonetheless, and you have a really good read for an hour or so. It won't take much longer than that, and it won't stay with you for much longer than that either, but it will allow you to overcome the boredom of being stuck on a bus in rush-hour traffic.