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For some bizarre reason, Douglas Coupland's Microserfs is comfort reading. It's battered, smudged, and I can probably recite it, but it kind-of touched a nerve with the failed-geek within me. So I often dip into that. Other than that... Norwegian Wood tends to go everywhere with me now, old Alastair Maclean and Desmond Bagley's, of which there are many at home are often great - Bagley's The Spoilers and Where Eagles Dare are particular favourites when I just need a couple of hours in enjoyable, exciting trash.
Swallows and Amazons, and indeed most of Ransome's books bar the bad ones are also definitely on the list, though nowadays I just tend to remember them rather than reread, but they're still all on the shelf. Oh, and Vurt and Snow Crash are beginning to edge towards Comfort Reading territory. It's not about quality, but pleasure, and I've enjoyed all these books in very personal ways.
(I also find idly flipping through Leonard Maltin's Film Guide 2000 most enjoyable, and have pretty much read the damn thing cover to cover now. It's not too battered, because it replaces the highly battered 1997 version...) |
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