Good bits from The New Yorker:



This is interesting. The rhythm of a daily walk. Easy to read, unusual format, a little repetitive at first, but mirroring the awful emptiness that assails some of us: Recuperation - by Roddy Doyle. It's not without its highlights and even a shot of redemption. Well worth a read. Brilliant is probably the word I'm looking for.



Sunstroke - by Tessa Hadley begins...



The seafront really isn’t the sea but the Bristol Channel: Wales is a blue line of hills on the other side. The district council has brought sand from elsewhere and built a complicated ugly system of concrete breakwaters to keep it in and make the beach more beachlike, but the locals say it’ll be washed away at the first spring tide. Determined kids wade out a long way into soft brown silt to reach the tepid water, which barely has energy to gather itself into what you could call a wave. It’s hard to believe that the same boys and girls who have PlayStations and the Internet still care to go paddling with shrimping nets in the rock pools left behind when the tide recedes, but they do, absorbed in it for hours as children might have been decades and generations ago.



A new Haruki Murakami: The Hunting Knife. So much to read, so little time.



Screenwriter - by a great writer, Charles D'Ambrosio. I must read this before very long.



Tooth and Claw - by T. Coraghessan Boyle. I probably won't read this, though I have glanced it over a few times. He's not a bad writer, but he spins things a bit too thin for my liking.

Ossian