Paul Theroux, The Last Train to Zona Verde. Paul Theroux is less self-assured now, at 72, as he travels from Cape Town northwards through Namibia and into Angola. Still a keen observer of humanity, and still quite dyspeptic, he’s nonetheless more tender and more open to the fact that his interpretations aren’t necessarily the only ones. He definitely doesn’t like cities at all, especially African cities, and he can’t quite comprehend why so many people live in them, even though he knows that the ancient bush life is not even remotely tenable. Frankly, I liked this book even more than his previous ones.

Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian: This is a brilliant book. Don’t bring it to the beach. It will not comfort or distract.