Currently reading and recently read:

• Rasskazy by Mikhail Iossel and Jeff Parker (editors). Russians are still writing some damnably good fiction, and Rasskazy might be all the proof one needs. (I'm currently at Arkady Babchenko's "The Diesel Stop," which is a lot like Alexander Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.)
• The Golden Gate by Vikram Seth. A novel written entirely in verse--even the dedication is poetry--might seem like a puzzling endeavor, but Seth largely succeeds in doing this. The Golden Gate starts off very slowly, and Seth seems unsure of himself for almost half the novel, but the book eventually finds its legs. It reads like a modern Jane Austen.
• Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. Yes, I'm still reading it. Yes, it's still weird. Yes, I'm still gunning for a September finish. I dare you to read it.
• Living to Tell the Tale by Gabriel García Márquez. I admit it: I haven't been reading this as much as I should. In fact, I'm still on chapter two, and have been for over a week. But don't worry, Rachel, I'll get back to it soon.
• Hitler by Ian Kershaw. Right: I'm probably a sick guy for being so shamelessly fascinated with Adolf Hitler. Or maybe I'm one of the few who can actually admit to being fascinated with him. I've only read the introductory essays to Hitler, and I've realized I'm not necessarily interested in Hitler himself--by most accounts, and judging from Mein Kampf, he was dull and mind-numbingly pretentious, and led an aimless life--but rather, the times in which he lived. But the time and the Führer are inseparable. As Kershaw writes, "Hitler's impact can only be grasped through the era which created him ..."

Comments

[Pete]

Your dare is hereby declined.