I’m almost embarrassed to write about this book because I finished it way back at the beginning of the year. So much for wanting to remember the things I read. I took it with me to the beach over summer — funny holiday reading perhaps, but it’s a satisfying, pithy and comprehensive book, a great example of Text Publishing’s quick-response, issue-based publishing (see also Henson Case, The).

There are seven chapters, each by a different author addressing a fraught facet of the war in Iraq. Gaita has arranged them in a simple, intuitive order, beginning with Robert Manne’s breakdown of relevant events, progressing through Hilary Charlesworth’s mindful assessment of the legality of the war, and ending rather chillingly with Mark McKenna’s chapter called ‘Howard’s Soldiers’. Though the viewpoints range in the angle taken, the overall tone rather leans towards emphatic, which is not surprising given the take-no-prisoners title.

Why the War was Wrong served an important purpose for me in that it brought together arguments on a state of current affairs in an accessible and coherent way. Much broader and deeper in coverage as a whole than newspapers and even the essays singly, it was a much-needed platform from which to ascertain the nature of my own unease about Iraq.

No book review today i’m afraid. I just got back from a lovely dinner at the City Wine Shop. But here’s a link to tide you over — my writing is going to appear in Story To… a Melbourne publication clawing the eyes out of MX with its independence and goodheartedness. Another exciting thing happened on the weekend, something to do with books — 50 of them! (look at the side panel for clues.)

A quick glance at the author biography tells me all I need to know about Kate Constable, i.e. that she’s a woman after my own heart for sure. Growing up, Constable loved Greek myths and knew nothing about football. I think we even went to the same school and university. Like me, she did an Arts/Law degree but unlike me she lived in Papua New Guinea, worked at a record company and married her boss.

I’m no stranger to Constable’s work (nor to the funny feeling I get when referring to someone as ‘Constable’) or the young adult female heroine fantasy genre (YAFHFG?). The Taste of Lightning is a premium example of both. Tansy, Perrin and Skir are three young people brought together by political intrigue and magic. By all rights, they shouldn’t be in the same place, let alone become travelling mates–their respective homelands are at war, and they come from wildly differing backgrounds. But between each other they find enough respect, skill and attraction to make a fist of helping Skir, a red-headed Priest-King, return to the Cragonlands.

Lightning is a wonderful book, with a spectacular hammer-home ending that reveals secrets of all kinds. The book smells of build-up, and I can’t find anything about it on her website but I would assume there will be a series of two or three.

Bigger is not always better, nor is newer…except in the case of my long overdue hardback copy of Fowler’s Modern English Usage, which thankfully supercedes my 1960s version picked up in a second-hand joint some time ago. Courtesy (inasmuch as courtesy can be paid for, which of course is quite a lot) of Book Depository, which will be on the list St. Peter will hold up with one hand while wagging his finger at me with the other. But also…

…don’t fret, I only bought the top two today. I bought Alain de Botton’s The Consolations of Philosophy (book club) and David Crystal’s How Language Works (editorial cred?) about six weeks ago, but today I ponied up $18.10 (RMIT staff discount!) for Delta of Venus (sentimental value) and Dark Star Safari — research for Estelle’s December-January Africa trip (should have a catchier name by now).

There should really be a ban on parentheses soon, but I’m a messy thinker, so I’m afraid they will stay put for now.

Last night was the final Melbourne Uni book club meeting for the year. The book was The Master and Margarita, which I found tough to talk about. I enjoyed it a lot, and a review will be up next week, but I’m not so up with my Russian history. I hate feeling like I’m missing out on something.

After book club we went for dinner at Tiamo 2, and I told Anna that I was almost up to 50 books for 2008 (I am!). She asked me what my favourite book this year was, and I had to say that I rarely induct a book into my favourites. I think favourite books stopped accumulating when I turned 17. Obviously, I enjoy books. But these days I have a pretty diffuse, indulgent pleasure in all the books that I read. Because of course, I’m the one choosing a book, I can put it down if I don’t like it. But am I the only one? Do you permit new books to latch on, heart-side?

To take us out this week, from The Onion: oh dear. Not really book related, but short and distrubingly relatable (the secrets of my socially inept self are revealed). Happy weekend!