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A gallery of sociological sketches, an homage to Rome, a commentary on Italy today, and a reflection on contemporary migration, and the experience of being far from home, however you define far and home, all under the pretense of a murder mystery. Though it is not a literary masterpiece, I truly enjoyed it.

Priestdaddy is a memoir centered around the author's dad: an overbearing, right-wing, frequently half-naked catholic priest. It is really, really funny. It is also affectionate, and sad. (Please, do or say something nice, so I can put it in the book - is Lockwood's silent prayer to her father). It is also full of depth, tackling head-on issues like falling out of faith, the church's (luck of) reaction to child-abuse within its ranks, and chemical pollution.

I don't know why I put off for reading this book for so long, having read and loved. Things Fall Apart. Though the two stand independently, I wish I remembered more details about the first book, to tie the pieces together. At any rate, I was not disappointed. Though a sense of doomness runs through it, the book reads itself, so to speak.  The writing is engaging and elegant, which this is especially remarkable given the weight of the themes handled: family and tradition vs individual choice, one's moral duty in a corrupted structure, colonialism and its legacy, the alienation of the protagonist, caught in between two systems of thought...all discussed with such sensitivity and complexity. Really recommended.

I have to stop getting stressed about the right amount of stars each book deserves, but I cannot help feeling that 3 is a misleading number for this one. The Hunger Games is actually almost perfect in its own way: it's a page turner, it has interesting characters that defy (gender) stereotypes, just that little added social commentary that makes you feel there is actually a point to the story, and, in my case, it makes for a great distraction from writing a PhD.

This last one surprised me with a less-than-happy ending. The rhythm is a bit slower than the others, and all the 'good characters' come out of it a little battered. I liked this: individuals can only so much when the overall system is so rigged. Suzanne Collins killed her (our) idol, and I wasn't expecting it.

Sometimes I enjoy a book, but I cannot help the feeling that I have read it before. Usually it isn't that the storyline is unoriginal, but something about the tone, the characters, or the atmosphere. To give Robert Schneider credit, he manages to write something that feels radically new, it seems to me. The story itself (the hopeless love of an ununderstood outsider for 'his' girl) was, for me, not as memorable as its settings: a small village in the Austrian Alps. Being from the "Italian Tyrol", they were familiar to me, and it was an interesting experience to find 'my places' (relatively speaking) in a book: it doesn't happen often. Portraying life 'as it used to be' in small mountain community, Schneider striked an unlikely balance between nostalgic tribute and sinister dystopia.

A novella imagining what would happen if the queen became a passionate reader, thus becoming humane. Ironic and intelligent, adorably British: subtle and understated, but delivering some real satirical punches. Notes: I read this book in the Italian translation by Elena Pavani.

A week ago, when I found Miyazaki's film was based on a book, I was so surprised, and so frustrated by my ignorance, that I couldn't wait. I was not disappointed. I wonder if, had I read it at a younger age, I would have found the plot easier to follow, or more compelling. Somehow, however, the story did not seem to matter because the world of Howl's almost doesn't need one to be worth your time. It's at once as story tale as it gets, and also radically original and imaginative. I also loved the characters: Sophie and Howl are such likeable, imperfect heroes! My edition includes an interview with the author, which was very worth reading.

Tascha said Hot Milk made her think of Mary Gaitskill, only perhaps less complex. I thought of Murakami, because of the slightly surreal atmosphere and writing. A mix between Mary Gaitskill and Murakami should then be absolutely fantastic. Somehow, Hot Milk wasn't absolutely fantastic, though it was good. As I know from experience, summing up the plot makes this book seem lame: a protagonist going through her mid-20's crisis, a controlling, hypochondriac mother, a holiday in Spain, a handful of love/sex affairs. The writing is beautiful, and if one is into surreal writing there are some beautiful scenes that are worth the time in themselves (to avoid spoilers, I'll only say two words: fish theft).

More than a novel, it is a collection of short stories moving from generation to generation, from the age of slave trade in Ghana to present day USA. This structure is both effective and frustrating. It's effective because it allows the author (and the readers) to explore the connections between colonialism, slavery, black-labour exploitation, civil-rights battles, and today's racism. It's frustrating because some stories are so short that they feel like necessary links, or vignettes, without leaving the time to "grow emotions" for the characters. Some of the plot-patterns in the book were also a bit forced and already-seen (for those who read the book already: black stones, romantic resolution...). That said, it was a fine read and an important one, delving into the horrors of colonialism.