I finally finished 1968. Perhaps more interesting for me than it would be for someone actually alive that year (or maybe not) but it was neat to be able to get a world-wide view of the turmoil that year.

Last week I finished Patrick O'Leary's The Impossible Bird, the first of his I'd read. It was one of those books that's a bit ambiguous as to category. It could be considered fantasy or SF depending on your viewpoint but fun in that it took place in the present.

I finished Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita on the way to Chicago. I now understand why William had been recommending it for years. After that on the flight I got most of the way through Robert Charles Wilson's Bios and then managed to lose it in the airport. I tried a few bookstores near where I was staying to see if I could find a copy and just read the last 20 pages standing there, but no luck. It's on hold at the library now. So far it wasn't quite as good as his Darwinia but it was holding my attention enough to want to know what happened.
posted by Kristin Buxton at 1:18 PM