I’m reading a small handful of books at the moment.
Most prominently, I’m reading Roberto Bolaño’s 2666. I started this behemoth on holiday (unaware of the scale of the novel, I have start reading Oukoku e Tsuzuku Michi here), and ripped through the first section, The Part About the Critics, on the plane home. I promptly bought the paperback and a trolley on which to wheel it, and I’m making good progress.
Astarte by karin boye, it is ok I guess, but was likely more interesting closer to when it was written, commenting on the things of the time, but still some thoughtprovoking parts, and I like how it is written.