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Books read, 2007
Feb. 10th, 2008 04:38 pm162 in total, 21 re-reads. Probably down on my usual total, for multiple reasons, not least of which are a) massive exams b) getting into manga and c) no holidays or prolonged periods of time spent on public transport (I’ve been walking to and from work), which is how a lot of my reading gets done, or at least how I end up starting a lot of books. Re-reading’s also harder with the majority of my books in storage. Also, when I’m madly stressed and looking for escapism I tend to read fanfic, which I don’t log here.
The best book I read all year was Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That; passionate and controlled, bitter and exact; stunning. I would read it again right now apart from the fact that I pressed it on the next friend of mine that I saw (and managed to get at least two of my family to borrow it from my library). Close second was Jan Morris’ Last Letters from Hav, with its creation of a country that never was, quite; I have put off reading the sequel because it has the House of the Chinese Master in flames on the cover, and I don’t want that to have happened yet. Mary Gentle’s Ilario was great, and although there are weak books in both Reginald Hill’s Dalziel and Pascoe series, and Dorothy Dunnett’s Dolly/Bird/yet-another-variant-title series were both excellent. Rupert Thomson’s The Death of a Murderer has an ending that’s haunted me ever since I read it, not for what happens but for where it ends and why that might be the case, and Tanya Huff’s Smoke and Mirrors did an amazing job of re-creating my misspent university years playing creepy computer games late at night with all my nerves keyed up to ridiculous extremes.
If I were more organised I’d link all these to their review, but the thought makes my heart sink. Roughly chronological, anyway, or determinedly curious types can always search through the tag function.
( Books! )
The best book I read all year was Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That; passionate and controlled, bitter and exact; stunning. I would read it again right now apart from the fact that I pressed it on the next friend of mine that I saw (and managed to get at least two of my family to borrow it from my library). Close second was Jan Morris’ Last Letters from Hav, with its creation of a country that never was, quite; I have put off reading the sequel because it has the House of the Chinese Master in flames on the cover, and I don’t want that to have happened yet. Mary Gentle’s Ilario was great, and although there are weak books in both Reginald Hill’s Dalziel and Pascoe series, and Dorothy Dunnett’s Dolly/Bird/yet-another-variant-title series were both excellent. Rupert Thomson’s The Death of a Murderer has an ending that’s haunted me ever since I read it, not for what happens but for where it ends and why that might be the case, and Tanya Huff’s Smoke and Mirrors did an amazing job of re-creating my misspent university years playing creepy computer games late at night with all my nerves keyed up to ridiculous extremes.
If I were more organised I’d link all these to their review, but the thought makes my heart sink. Roughly chronological, anyway, or determinedly curious types can always search through the tag function.
( Books! )
