Mémoires d'Outre-Tombe, volume 3, de Chateaubriand

The first chapters of this third volume of Chateaubriand's memoirs seemed less interesting than the previous volumes, but then it gained momentum and I really enjoyed it. Chateaubriand was a fascinating mixture of a conservative with some progressive ideas, guess today he would have been a social-democrat. I totally disagree with his monarchic and religious views, but his writing is superb, and he can really bring life to his depictions of diplomatic and political life in the 19th century, so similar to our own times in so many ways - some things never change? And his account of the July Revolution is extremely lively.

A Amiga Genial, de Elena Ferrante

I had heard about Elena Ferrante for a while, and it made me want to try some book of hers; I did, and it was a good bet. The writing is very good, and she has the talent to depict a friendship and an atmosphere, in this case the poor suburbs of Naples, that truly come alive through her writing. It's a coming of age novel, a novel of mores and the characters are true and credible. It makes me want to read the other novels in the series.

Afirma Pereira, de António Tabucchi

This is an excellent book by an Italian-Portuguese author. I had read before Mulher de Porto Pim, and liked it, but this one is much better. He writes really well, and the story reminded me somewhat of Saramago's O Ano da Morte de Ricardo Reis - it is set in the same time period, the 30s in Lisbon - but I think I liked this better. Simulataneously sad and hopeful, which is quite an achievement.

Contos, volume II, de Anton Tchekhov

It's always such a pleasure to read Tchekhov. In a simple language and a few sentences, that makes it seem so easy to write, he knows like no one else to sketch a situation, a few characters, the story flows so perfectly, and soon one is inside the story, and in the end it leaves a deep impression. I think he's probably the best short stories writer I know, a par with Maupassant and, in a completely different style, Raymond Carver.