Maddaddam, by Margaret Atwood

I loved the whole MaddAddam trilogy by Margaret Atwood, it's extremely well written and eerily real. The first two volumes were so exceptionally good I naturally had great expectations regarding the third. They were half met - it's still a very good book, but I felt a little uncomfortable with some of the developments, like the communication between the Crakers and the Pigoons, that seemed to me, unlike most of the other issues in the books, not grounded on science and so not that believable. Also, Zeb's story was not nearly as interesting as Toby's, Ren's or Jimmy's. Even so, it's a great book, and I highly recommend it.

O Sistema Periódico, de Primo Levi

A very interesting book; Primo Levi writes about previous life experiences from the perspective a a chemical scientist, his occupation before writing full time. The book consists in a series of independent texts, in chronological order, each named after a chemical element. It's an ingenious way to organise a memoir, and he succeeds beautifully. His writing is somewhat austere but always pleasant, and his musings are insightful and intelligent. Through his stories, one becomes acquainted with the situation in Italy during fascism, WWII and the post-war period, not only regarding the Jewish question. And he has the inestimable capacity to turn his reminiscences and reflections about himself and his experiences into a general musing about life in general; this capacity of universalising their experiences and thoughts is the true mark of a great writer.

The Master Algorithm, by Pedro Domingos

This is a most interesting book about a fascinating subject - machine learning. It really helps you to understand the brave new world we live in. I admit I haven't understood all the details, my mind works in a gestalt way, and I couldn't really picture some of the concepts depicted in the book, But even so, the basics are extremely well explained, and I learned a lot. The writing is very good, the author reveals a remarkable culture and knows how to explain scientific stuff to lay people. A very enjoyable and informative book.

Moments of Being, by Virginia Woolf

I wonder why I hadn't read this wonderful book yet, being such a fan of Virginia Woolf and Bloomsbury. Which was fine, since I could have the unspoiled pleasure of reading it now for the first time. What a joy, after so many biographies of Bloomsberries, diaries of Frances Partridge and such, to read the real thing, the exquisite prose of Virginia Woolf herself, so much better than all the rest! This book is a posthumous collection of autobiographical essays written at different points of her life, which, besides the quality of each one, allows us to see how her writing evolved and changed over the years.

Reminiscences is clearly a youth piece, still very conventional and ladylike, but with clear signs of the immense talent and originality waiting to explode. A Sketch of the Past, written when she was a mature and accomplished writer, is amazing, as Old Bloomsbury, one of the three texts written to be read at the Memoir Club, the one that most perfectly depicts what Bloomsbury was and why it was such a groundbreaking movement. 22 Hyde Park Gate and Am I a Snob? are the other two pieces, perfect examples of her wit and inimitable style. What a pity depression got her at 60, when she was still so aware and productive, how many wonderful texts she could have written.

The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood

This is the second book of the MaddAddam trilogy, and it's as good - and scary - as the first. Margaret Atwood really has a knock for the dystopian, she creates them believable and plausible. And her characters show a thorough understanding of human nature. Excellent.

En finir avec Eddy Bellegueule, by Édouard Louis

What a wonderful, powerful book! I finished literally bouleversé. It's really remarkable - the writing is superb, beautiful even when depicting the most terrible events, never patronizing or romanticizing what and the author writes about. It's an implacable depiction of a mostly forgotten world, and extremely insightful and useful to understand the Le Pen phenomenon in France - and probably similar phenomena in other Western countries. It's very much about politics, and yet it keeps also to the personal view from an individual, whose personality and experience makes him question and face that world. The character of Eddy and his surroundings manages to be totally believable - and moving - never being didactic, and that's how a political novel should be. And how impressive to think Édouard Louis wrote this in his early twenties. I searched him online and read his excellent interview to the Paris Review; he's extremely articulate and to the point, and I think his will be a voice to listen to attentively in the future.

(Once more, I'm so grateful to Garth Greenwell for the suggestion!)

My Cat Yugoslavia, by Pajtim Statovci

This is a very good book, especially considering it's a debut novel. Beautifully written, moving, tender and strong, about being a refugee (first and second generation) and the search for one's identity, the need to be loved and accepted, and how that often lands one in abusive relationships. The narrative's structure is bold yet well achieved - two plot lines, elements of magical realism, characters believable even if sometimes feeling a little underdeveloped. I liked how the author followed the characters and the plot where they led him, leaving several unanswered questions and much food for thought. It made me sad, but also hopeful. And to think it was written by a 24-year-old, quite a feat! It makes me look forward for more work by this very talented writer.

La vie devant soi, de Romain Gary (Émile Ajar)

What a wonderful book. Extremely well written, in a poetic tone, and extremely moving. It's the second book by Romain Gary I read, and I'm thankful to Matti Friedmann for letting me know this author.

Oryx & Crake, by Margaret Atwood

An excellent book. I love dystopian stories, and this one is one of the better I have read so far. Margaret Atwood really nails it, the corporation's ruled world seems like a very probable future. It's extremely well written, and it's really intense. It's sad, but extremely thought provoking. The concept of an apocalypse reminded me of Kalkhi by Gore Vidal. An extremely intelligent book, and an intense read, like a thriller.

Uma Maneira de ser Moderno - exposição de Almada Negreiros na Fundação Gulbenkian

I always liked the work of Almada Negreiros, and the Gulbenkian exhibition is an excellent show. Almada was part of a brilliant set of artists that brought modern art to Portugal - Fernando Pessoa and Mário de Sá-Carneiro in literature, himself, Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso and Santa-Rita-Pintor in painting, to mention the most remarkable. They were all outstanding artists by any standards, and they brought a breath of fresh air to Portuguese art, distinctively Portuguese and yet cosmopolitan, in synch with what was going on in Paris at the time. They were the perfect modern artists, and Almada Negreiros was the one who lived longer. He was a kind of Renaissance man, painter, poet and writer, but I think he mostly excelled as a draughtsman. He had that rare ability of drawing the perfect picture with a few apparently simple lines.

Irreverent as he was at the beginning, his longevity and quality made him become the modern Portuguese artist par excellence, accepted and recognised even by such a backward regime as we had at the time. He decorated major buildings, from cafés to universities to the dockyards buildings, doing mosaics and stained glass windows, and his 40s style became somewhat of a standard in illustration - I remember my childhood books and grade schools books being illustrated by him or in his style.

The Gulbenkian museum keeps doing a great job showing Portuguese art; this show is another great contribution, a par with the one they did a few years back with Amadeo Souza-Cardoso, my favorite Portuguese painter.

Empire of Self - a life of Gore Vidal, by Jay Parini

I have been an admirer of Gore Vidal for a long time, since the 90s. The first of his books I read was Julian, out of my interest for historical novels, then the completely different Myra Breckinridge, out of a praise by Italo Calvino. I liked them both very much, but I think it was Empire that really got me hooked, and then Palimpsest and his essays. Here was an intelligent, sensible and witty voice, even if somewhat narcissistic and not artistically great.

I read all his Narratives of Empire, several of his satirical novels and many of his essays, and his memoirs. I enjoy his writing, and find myself agreeing with him more often than not. His constant auto-biographical remarks naturally led me to take an interest in his life, and what a life it was. He's one of the writers whose life I like to know, like Virginia Woolf, Bruce Chatwin, Patrick Leigh Fermor, Simone de Beauvoir. Deeply flawed as he undoubtly was, his was a courageous life - how else would one rate his publishing a book like The City and the Pillar in the 1940s? - because some writers' lives and work are so inextricably linked.

And how can one not love his witty remarks? Just a few samples: In my country, yes, the people can say anything they want, as long as nobody is listening. They do as they are they are told. On the other hand, Hollywood makes them happy. The sort of exuberant badness which so often achieves perfect popularity cannot be faked. I am at heart a propagandist, a tremendous hater, a tiresome nag, complacently positive that there is no human problem which could not be solved if people simply would do as I advise.

Jay Parini's book looks like a very balanced biography, affectionate and acknowledging its subject's qualities and flaws. I think it's does justice to its subject, and it's also an enjoyable read.

A weekend in Lyon

So I went to Lyon for a weekend; it's always nice to get away from the routine for a while, and I love to visit European cities. Lyon is a nice city, France's third largest, and I really enjoyed going there. The weather was nice enough, some periods of rain but also some sunny times to enjoy city walks and café terraces.

Arriving on a Friday afternoon, I started by walking around - crossed the Rhône to Presqu'Île at the huge Place Bellecour, headed north along 19th century boulevards to Place des Terreaux with the Hôtel de Ville, then enjoyed a drink at a terrace in the cosy Place Sathonay, where young people chat and smoke at the café terraces while old men play boules in the square.

I went up the hill by the Montée de la Grande Côte, toward a great view over the city, that even features a miniature Eiffel tower. Went down again and crossed the river to Vieux Lyon near the Saint Paul church, lots of people strolling or just sitting by the river banks on that sunny afternoon.

There were lots of kids around Saint Paul, it was probably the time when school finished. After visiting the small church, I walked around Vieux Lyon, the Rue Juiverie, the Rue du Boeuf, and then climbed the many steps of the Montée des Chazeaux to the hill of Fourvière, to enjoy the gorgeous view over the city, next to the 19th century basilica, appropriately described as an elephant on its back, the kind of huge religious building like the Sacré Coeur in Paris or the Notre Dame basilica in Marseilles.

Going down to Vieux Lyon was much easier than climbing the steps, and I had a glass of wine before dinner at the cathedral square, before eating a great meal at a bouchon nearby - I think it was one of the better meals I had in a long time - quenelles de brochet, Lyon saucisson, joue de boeuf, very good wines.

The next day, Saturday, it was cloudy and rainy. But I was lucky since it stopped raining around noon, so I could walk around Vieux Lyon and go to the Saint Just neighborhood to see the old church of Saint Irénée, and then the Roman ruined theatres. There's very little left of the Romah Lugdunum which, being the capital of Gaul, must have been a big Roman city. The site of the theatre is amazing nonetheless, commanding a splendid view over the city.

A rainy afternoon was the perfect time to go to the Musée des Beaux Arts. It has a very good collection, especially of Middle Eastern artifacts from Antiquity, and Limoges art and 19th century sculpture.

Then it stopped raining and I walked by the Opera along the river to my hotel.

On Sunday, I started the day visiting the Saint Jean cathedral, with its beautiful 14th century astrological clock, then went to Place des Terreaux, which was crowded with people coming to some urban races. I walked from there to the Croix Rousse neighborhood, along some very nice traboules, which are shortcuts between main streets, across nice courtyards and stairs.

I loved the Croix Rousse, with its buildings and squares, spent some time in a nice bohemian looking café and enjoyed the views over the river from its slopes. There was a little rain and I came across the Sunday runners several times. Then back to the Presqu'Île boulevards with its beautiful 19th century façades, and perusing the Gibert Joseph bookstore and buying a few books.

What else can one wish from a weekend abroad? Good sightseeing, great food, nice walks and a few good books to bring home and read later. Love Europe!

The Silk Roads, by Peter Frankopan

This is a really excellent book, an extremely enjoyable read, especially for History nerds like myself that were always fascinated with the East and the intricacies of History. The premise is very interesting - a universal history centered in the region between East and West, the famed Silk Roads, instead of Europe as we're used to. This shift of perspective makes for a reappraisal of several historical events under a new light - the same events, some different considerations. One has to know world history to appreciate it, because there are several facts only alluded to or not even covered, like the french revolution or the Enlightenment period.

I think there are two weaknesses in the book though: the first is the author doesn't try to explain how the West (meaning Europe) became the main determinant of the events since the 16th century, mostly due to the scientific revolution (Yuval Harari explains it extremely well in Sapiens); the other is his - in my opinion - misjudged appraisal of the present situation of the Central Asian countries. Yes, they may be experiencing a phase of extreme wealth due to their natural resources, but I don't think that means they're back to being the determinants of world history. Like the Iberian countries after the discoveries, their wealth is temporary and the real moving forces of world history are in the Western world due to their scientific and technological hegemony.

Anyway, I liked this book immensely, it reads like a novel, it's full of interesting and very well researched information, and it helps to understand our world history in an original and intelligent perspective. Peter Frankopan wrote a true masterpiece, and I look forward to read his other books.

We need to talk about Kevin, by Lionel Shriver

I had watched the movie, and liked it - fabulous Tilda Swinton - so I was curious to read the book. I liked it even better; it's very well written, moving and thought provoking. or personal reasons, I am very interested in these questions, of nature vs nurture and parenting, and I think the author poses these questions extremely well. A very good book.

Scandinavians, by Robert Ferguson

For a number of years now I've been interested in Scandinavia and its culture, ever since I went to Copenhagen - and then to Sweden, Norway and Iceland. I can't remember what first attracted me, maybe the feeling of a very civilised atmosphere, or the beauty of the cities - Copenhagen and Stockholm - so different from our southern European ones, or the extraordinary natural wonders of Norway - the Lofoten islands, the fjords - and later the magical nature of Iceland - but by that time I was already totally hooked. I think it started with a combination of the urban civilisation and the natural beauty, that led me to try to know its culture, and then the somewhat austere and melodic literature kept my interest going - I was already acquainted with Selma Lagerlöf, Karen Blixen and Peter Hoeg, and then I discovered Vilhelm Moberg, Per Lagerkvist, Knut Hamsun, Halldor Laxness. I even learnt a little Swedish, enough to read Swedish papers on the internet, watch some Swedish television series - like Äkta Människor, Bron and 1790 - and even read a couple of books in Swedish.

So, I was curious to read this book, its premise being to analyse Scandinavian culture and "soul" and understand its allure. And it certainly is a very interesting and readable book. The author is obviously in love with Scandinavian culture, he is extremely knowledgeable and the book is very informative, full of interesting anecdotes and details about Scandinavian history and culture, from the Vikings to Bergman, Queen Kristina to Breijvik, the Icelandic assembly to Denmark under Struensee, Knut Hamsun and Edvard Munch to the Abba. All that makes for a very interesting reading, but do we really get that soul of the North the author is searching? I don't think so; it certainly helps us to understand its civilisation and mores, but I guess there is something unfathomable in what attracts us to a culture that's not rationally understandable, and that's part of its fascination.

Un homme qui dort, de Georges Perec

Ever since I read the excellent La vie, mode d'emploi, I've been an admirer f Georges Perec, and even since no other of his books has appealed as much to me, I have liked all I've read by him. Un homme qui dort is very good, extremely insightful in what concerns the existential disenchantment with the world, a feeling we could call depression, but somehow if feels like is something simultaneous more and less than that, more a state of mind than a medical condition. And he writes in such a beautiful French! At the end, a sentence stuck in my mind: L'indifférence ne t'a pas rendu indifférent. He got it.

Sapiens - a brief history of Humankind, by Yuval Noah Harari

This is a really great book, I enjoyed it from the beginning until the last page. The author is extremely knowledgeable and writes in an engaging prose, and really knows how to convey the story of Homo sapiens since its origins until the present times.

It's also a very thought provoking book, the way it depicts the success of biologic evolution against the fate of individual beings, whether men or animals or plants. I really liked the author's description of the several breakthroughs in our evolution and history. All in all, it's an excellent book, and I highly recommend it.

The Anatomist, by Bill Hayes

I heard about this book in Oliver Sacks' autobiography (Bill Hayes was his romantic partner on his last years). It seemed interesting, even if Gray's Anatomy was never a art of my college textbooks, since in Portugal we study by the French textbooks by Testut and Rouvière. It's a good book, it's interesting how the author started looking for the life of Henry Gray but ended up by writing mostly about the life of Henry Vandyke Carter, the other anatomist, the one who did the drawings that illustrate the famous textbook. Henry Gray looms like a shadow over the book, but Carter comes up as a lively and real person, whose aspirations and struggles are extremely well depicted. The narrative of the author's quest, his fascination for the study of anatomy, is also very engaging. I can relate to that, even if personally I hated the dissection classes in college - mostly because of the terrible smell of phormaldehyde, because I wasn't particularly impressed by the cadavers as people, they just seemed things, and mostly very repulsive ones. But all in all considering the author's quest and Carter's life and feelings as expressed in his diary, this book is worth reading.

Les Confessions, de Jean-Jacques Rousseau

An extremely interesting autobiographic work. Rousseau wants to tell his life as fully and as candidly as possible, and he does it. One cannot but be touched by his candour and honesty, e really manages to convey a true portrait of a human being, with his faults, aspirations and qualities, all the more real for his flaws. And not only one gets a true picture of his life, but also of 18th century life and mores.

And I guess Rousseau would be diagnosed today as an ADHD patient, considering his life and the way he describes himself in several instances, as here:

J'aime à m'occuper à faire des riens, à commencer cent choses et n'en achever aucune, à aller et venir comme la tête me chane, à changer à chaque instant de projet, à suivre une mouche dans toutes ses allures à vouloir déraciner un rocher pour voir ce qui est dessous, à entreprendre avec ardeur un travail de dix ans, et à l'abandonner sans regret au bout de dix minutes, à muser enfin toute la journée sans ordre et sans suite, et à ne suivre en toute chose que le caprice du moment.

Good Company, by Frances Partridge

It's always a pleasure to go back to Frances Partridge's diaries. For several reasons: I really like her personality, she must have been a very kind and warm person, passionate for life and friendship. Above all, I admire her capacity to keep making her life as interesting as she could, mostly out of her relationships with her friends, the good company of the title. Even over 60, she was still trying to make sense out of life, through reading, conversation with intelligent people, travelling. I like her keen observations about people and places and events, and I find her rending of her friendships extremely interesting and realistic - the way she conveys all the ambiguity and complexities of long term friendships is especially to the point when she describes her relationships with Julia Strachey or Gerald Brenan, who emerge from her depictions as real and lively people (not so much Janetta Woolley, who seems kind of lame).