The Fermata by Nicholson Baker. I read this stop-time sex fantasia in 2007, which is somehow almost nineteen years ago. Indeed it's twelve years since Baker's last novel.
The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem. The subject of an incredible screed of a Goodreads review by someone who only made it to page 50. I don't think I've been that angry about anything, and I was permanently angry for the entire 1990s.
Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez. Like some kind of antipodean literary squirrel, I'm laying up stores of cold climate books for the coming summer.
