Lately: all three novels of Roberto Bolano that were translated in Dutch: De Woeste Zoekers (in English: The Savage Detectives), Chileense Nocturne and Het Lichtend Kwaad. De Woeste Zoekers I read while being sick in bed. (Btw: this is a book for which one needs the public library: the translation came out in 2000, was not reprinted (I’m told it will be reprinted later this year), and is hardly available second-hand).

Finally: Laurence Sterne: A Sentimental Journey.

Maryanne Wolf: Proust and the Squid – from which, surprisingly, I enjoyed the chapters on dyslexia most.

Oh, yes, and two weeks ago: Flann O’Brien The Hard Life, in a Dutch translation (followed by a rereading of a few chapters from The Third Policeman also in a Dutch translation). I was laughing loud – quite something as I hardly laugh/smile while reading. It is so much easier to ‘get’ a book when you read it in your mother tongue – however easy it is to read in English – that even for a writer like Flann O’Brien, who works a lot with language jokes, accents, dialects, I sometimes prefer to read the translation for sheer reading pleasure….