Done w/ White Teeth. Kickass novel: very sweet and very smart. Do read it.

Right now I am riffling through periodicals: This week's New Yorker, this month's Harper's (bought because of the David Foster Wallace article), and last week's New York Review of Books (free trial subscription deal). I've given up any hope of ever reading any NYRB cover to cover.

A Nabokovilian moment. Page 194:

To be more precise, Millat hadn't read it. Millat knew nothing about the writer, nothing about the book; could not identify the book if it lay in a pile of other books; could not pick out the writer in a lineup of other writers (irresistible, this lineup of offending writers: Socrates, Protagoras, Ovid and Juvenal, Raddclyffe Hall, Boris Pasternak, D.H. Lawrence, Solzhenitsyn, Nabokov, all holding up their numbers for the mug shot, squinting in the flashbulb).

Right now I'm reading Zadie Smith's White Teeth.

Done w/ The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle! Very good and Twin Peaks-ish and strange.