Erm........
I have read so many books I dont know where to start. Okay about 70% of them are sci-fi/fantasy and most of the rest are history books about the second world war nicked off my dad, but I have read so many I can't pick any single one that changed my life.

So I suppose credit must go to whichever book it was that I read in primary school that got me addicted to this rather nice thing called "reading".

You know the sort of thing, small paperbacks with about fifty pages that they bung kids every so often and tell them to read it and bring it back after a week and write a review of it. Or something.

It was probably a complete pile of arse too, so I suppose its just as well I dont remember it.
(BeardyWierdy, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:30, Reply)

Books are brilliant
Quite a few books I've read have had a big effect on me.

Jazz, by John Fordham, aided and abetted what I suspect will be a life-long love affair with that great music when I was about eleven. It helped a lot that it was written by someone who clearly is genuinely passionate about the music and vastly knowledgeable about it, rather than all too many jazz guides which focus on how 'cool' jazz is, yeah, man, wasn't Miles Davis hip, and not treating it with the reverence and dignity it deserves.

Also Prime Obsession, By, I think, John Derbyshire. I'd always been good at maths, but it never really captured my imagination, mostly, I suspect, because maths at school is taught in such an uninspiring way as to put off as many people as possible, but that book showed me just what a powerful and beautiful thing it can be and now I'm about to embark on at least three years of doing more or less nothing but for my degree, so that is pretty much the entire course of my life changed by that book.

Also, I forget what it was called, but when I was about 14 I read a book about autism (not the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, it was a solely factual one) and suddenly everything became clear - why I am like I am, or was like I was, why my mind works the way it does and why I hate the beach and why, nomatter how many friends I seem to have these days, I always feel like a little bit of an outsider. I'm not a complete autistic, although having talked to my mum about it since it would have been absolutely no trouble to have got me diagnosed as such when I was younger, but for reasons I quite understand she thought that wouldn't be a good course to take. I've more or less got better, since, I don't see the flashing lights anymore and I frankly welcome unexpected and unplanned and exciting things, but still, the aspergic little boy is till in there somewhere and now I understand him a little better.

Finally, I was getting a bit depressed lately, what with one thing and another, when I found myself reading the fabulous Joseph Campbell's 'The Power of Myth'. It is a brilliant book that I think everyone should read and packed full of insight and profundity, but a few bits in particular really just gave me a massive paradigm shift of perspective, and now, whilst I'm still not exactly a cheerful soul, life seems a lot more friendly. Which is good, as I'm sure you'll agree.

Reading that back, I'm quite disappointed by the frankly substandard quality of my prose, which I usually pride myself on for their dynamic flow and elegant logic, but that'll have to do for now as I'm really very tired and don't think I can do a lot better.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:30, Reply)

I've posted once already but
so many of these posts are honest heartfelt and thoughtful so I felt it might be worth adding an extra book;

Cannery Row by John Steinbeck.

My copy is held together by willpower these days- I have read it on dozens of occasions. Whenever I'm in a foul mood, I can read this short book in an afternoon and feel immeasurably better. The simple life affirming joy of its subject matter is a tonic I don't seem to tire of.

If you haven't read it before it won't take you very long to see if I'm talking out my arse or not.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:23, 1 reply)

not really books
but zines. a few years ago i remember ordering some zines from an online distro. various stuff, personal zines, d.i.y, comics, anarchism, activism, poetry, music reviews, everything random basically.

there was a realisation that there was a worldwide movement of people writing and self publishing that was totally below the radar and could never be co-operated or bought up by mainstream media. and anyone could do it. it made me realise that there still are people out there who want to express themselves in totally their own way, with no question of making money. i made my own zine and gave it out to friends and to a distro. there's nothing more satisfying...
(ewe, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:18, Reply)

Time Travelers Wife
It's not exactly changed my life but I would say that this is my favourite book. I know its not plausible and that quite frankly, Time Travel isn't a novel concept for a book but the way it is described and the love that Henry and Clare have for each other kind of makes all that seem insignificant.
I guess its the first book that I've read thats affirmed my personal, albeit soppy beliefs in waiting for love, and how circumstances shouldn't shape peoples lives, they should merely add to them.
Does this make sense or has 2 glasses of fizzy wine made me talk crap?
(Lucy Van Pelt embracing ginlovers, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:16, 2 replies)

The book that changed me life?
Hasn't been published yet. Y'see, I'm a wannabe novelist.

Working low paying jobs whilst tapping away on the PC during weekends and holidays. All the usual cliches.

So far I've written three 'books'. No pretensions of them being lit classics, they're not. They are the sort of easy, escapist paperback fodder that I enjoy reading myself.
I've no desire to ever have anything I've written reviewed by chin-strokey Guardian types, a few appreciative nods from people who enjoy wasting a few hours and laughing at my poor jokes would be brilliant. Mostly, though, I write them 'cos I enjoy it.

'Run Of Luck'. first effort, a generic crime thriller type thing. I sent this off to a few agents. Rejected, of course, but two of the four letters were very complimentary which was reward enough for a first try. The theory is that a first attempt at fiction is always too autobiographical. The main character in Run Of Luck is a fella in his thirties who is a bit of a friendless slacker who enjoys drinking, gambling and smut too much.

Oh.

The second effort is 'Sunrise B' which is a post apocolyptic horror type effort. Set in Norwich. Imagine Mad Max with tea.
Political vitriol and slapstick farce for 300 pages.

And 'Laurence'. Which is either great or shit. I can't decide.

Probably shit.

I don't earn a great deal of money, less than 19 grand a year, and I'd be happy to be earning less if I could write my old bollocks for a living. Who knows, maybe one day.

If you ever see any of the above in a library or book shop, put 'em in a prominent place for me.

Ta.

Thanks for reading, sorry for waffling.
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:10, 2 replies)

Jordan.
I was astounded at just how different this book was to how I would have expected it to be.

I mean, I only read the first few chapters.... I had awoken in my mates girlfriends bed (fear not, they were both asleep in the double bed in the spare room) and not wanting to wake them or rake through her house, I scanned her room for something to do. And I discovered the revelation that was the Jordan book!

Don't be fooled! I know it might seem like she's a vapid, despicable moron who has been overpopularised by the idiot public, but I saw a new level of humanity in her. I was almost brought to tears by her harrowing recollections of how she was made to feel a bit funny when a photographer asked to see her tits. Heavy stuff! I recall feeling a bit sick the whole time I was reading it, in fact.

I didn't quite manage to get through the 3rd chapter as I had begun to feel quite ill, being that I was hung-over. Thankfully, the print was large enough for your average mouth-breather to read, and it had some nice pictures of her with her tits out in the middle.

All in all, a cracking good read.

I'll leave it to you to decide if I'm being sarcastic. Which I undoubtedly am. Bugger.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:07, 1 reply)

Voyage of the Dawn Treader
by C.S Lewis.

I had to give a speech on this damn book in my 2nd year of comprehensive school. Every time I started I froze up and couldn't say a thing other than the title of the book followed by "uhmm.. err...". Eventually, the English teacher gave up and handed me my one and only detention in my school career. Up until then I was doing great at English but afterwards I just hated the subject, the book, giving speeches and C.S fucking Lewis, resulting in me having a very poor showing at my GCSE English 3-4 years later and thusly having to make do with a series of crappy dead end jobs.
So to recap, Voyage of the Dawn Treader stole my life. At least that's my excuse why I'm a washed up, poverty stricken peasant.
( P45 Sent by my Bosch 509e in the year 2000, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:05, Reply)

Another Tolkien Fan I'm afraid
I think I was about ten. I was recovering at home from having my appendix out. I was uncomfortable, fidgety, moaning and generally driving my mother batshit.
My Father, at my mothers insistence, went out to get me something to do. He returned with a rather nice hardback, large print, illustrated version of 'The Hobbit'.
He then proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed and tell me how's he'd read this book at my age...blah, blah, blah. I wasn't paying any attention whatsoever- I was just pissed off he didn't bring me a beano. But he left the book on my bed and eventually, out of boredom I eventually picked it up. From the end of the first chapter I was hooked, completely and utterly.

I was instantly enchanted, a whole new world had opened up to me, orcs, dragons, trolls, wizards and swords - the vividness and thoroughness that he wove his tale was, in my mind, amazing. I'd never been transported 'into' a story before and this was a whole new experience for me. This was the first time I'd ever been led to 'read under the covers' by torchlight after my parents calling bedtime.

Since then I 've read pretty much all of his books - The Silmarillion, Lord of the rings, Father Christmas stories and Father Giles to name but a few. Unfortunately 'The hobbit' kick started what's turned out to be a pretty good book collection - Fantasy wise, pretty much everything from Weiss and Hickmanns' Drangonlance series, to David Gemmells' Waylander, Drenai and Rigante series, Louise Cooper, Terry Brooks's Shannara, magic kingdom and running with the demon series and David Eddings Sorcerer stuff.

From my humble beginnings I've also branched into quite a bit of the horror fantasy stuff as well, which has led to shelves full of stuff from the likes of Brian Lumley, Stephen King, Dean R Koontz, Lovecraft and James Herbert

I'm also quite partial to Tom Clancy's older stuff, Red Storm Rising blows me away every time I read it. I'm not ashamed to have most of Wilbur Smiths collection and a few of Clive Cusslers 'Dirk Pitt' novels lurking in the depths of my bookcases.

Pretty much anyone (in my mind anyway) who can weave a decent tale I've picked up and read at some point. I love a good novel, I love being taken out of my armchair or bed and thrown into Mordor, or into a vampire world, or perhaps even into the middle of a third world war.

I like to think It was 'The Hobbit' that launched my rather avaricious reading hobby, prior to that I'd thought books were something you grudgingly opened to learn maths / geography from.

*All of this drives my missus mental. I still have most of my books. I never throw any of them out unless they fall to bits - then I replace them. We have at this point 4 large book cases full of stuff and quite a few box fulls sequestered under the bed. And yes, they will be moving with me when we move in a few months time...
(uk_viper stopped lurking on, Thu 15 May 2008, 22:01, 2 replies)

Judy Blume's Forever.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forever_%28novel%29

Man, it wasn't nearly as dirty as I'd hoped. I waited bloody three weeks for that out of the library at school when I was thirteen...

... and what man in their right mind would name their penis Ralph. I mean, really.
(thants, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:56, 5 replies)

I read this question
and I thought "what a pants question that is. I imagine that'll be me clamped until next thursday".

But it seems I have read a number of books that I have really enjoyed, and the floodgates are opened.

I have a bit of a strange taste in what I find enjoyable. After that first holiday, I have never travelled anywhere without a good book to read. I know it might seem an odd choice, but some of the best cowering-under-a-beach-umbrella reading I've ever had has come from the series of books about the first world war by Lyn McDonald.

Books like "To the last man - Spring 1918", "They called it Passchendale" and "Somme" are some of the most compelling reads I've ever had. Although much of them are retellings of the great battles that were fought, they are interspersed with interviews with soldiers who were there in the horror of the trenches. Reading the words of the people who lived through what I think was the most brutal conflict the world has ever seen is a humbling experience. It brings modern conflicts into sharp focus, I can tell you.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:54, 4 replies)

His Dark Materials triology
I read this when it first came out. I was about 11 at the time, and my dad had the hardback books. I read the first two and was completely enchanted, desperately waiting to read the third. The books opened a whole new world for me, so when I read Harry Potter I wasn't as impressed. It lacked the scale and the style of Pullman's books.

Going back to the trilogy now, I realized how much the books had affected me. My views on God and religion, and the complexity of good and evil can all be linked in some way to the reading of the books. After all, this is a trilogy in which the fall of man is not a tragedy, and the protagonists literally kill God.

And no, I haven't seen the film. I don't know if they can ever capture the books for me
(Urban Hermit Exit, pursued by a bear on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:51, 4 replies)

Forget the film - I hear it was crap but the book changed my life.
Jonathan Livingstone Seagull by Richard Bach which I followed up with Illusions. They came to me at just the right moment in my life. I have never looked back from them. We choose to be happy or sad. Other people don't have that power over us. I choose happy every time.
(karnuvap, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:46, Reply)

"The Power of the Dog" by Don Winslow
Didn't change my life at all, just thought it was a fucking great read. I'm not usually into this sort of book, but the story is REALLY good, and very shocking and graphic, the kind of stuff that makes the chainsaw scene in Scarface look pale in comparison.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Power_of_the_Dog

If you like violent drug cartel stories and all that, or even if you don't, I'd really recomend it. Just read the into and you're hooked!
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:43, Reply)

I didn't realise at the time.....
When I was in my 20s I went through a break up with a girl I was very keen on. Really, it hadn't been a long relationship, and certainly nothing unusual about one person not being into it as much as the other, but it wasn't a nice experience.

However, my reaction to this sad event was utterly disproportionate to the event itself, and I found myself absolutely paralysed by it - totally crushed, totally destroyed. And for someone who was never a especially volatile emotionally, it was a scary time.

Then a friend of mine leant me a book about grief. It was probably called Grief or something obvious like that, and it was a short book dealing with the different stages of grief (what happens, why it happens, why you shouldn't ignore it, why it will resolve etc).

Anyhow, it turned out to be a book that turned on a huge lightbulb in my mind and I realised something way more profound was going on:
When I was about 11, my dad died. At the time our stiff upper lip family had dealt with it the only way we knew how, and had buttoned everything up. And as a result I had what I would (badly) describe as a big chunk of frozen grief about it inside me. I haven't the foggiest idea about what exactly happened, but somehow through this trivial break-up with this girl it all got defrosted, and in a funny way I was really grieving about my dad.

It turned out to be about the most emotionally healthy things that's ever happened to me and ever since then I've stopped being one of God's Frozen People.

I wish I could remember the book title, though.

If anyone can help me understand any more about this please send me a message. I think it's real but don't know how to start explaining it.
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:40, 1 reply)

Having seen clues in many posts
I'm assuming that the full works of Terry Pratchett will feature highly on almost every B3tans list of shit-hot reads. So, rather than telling you what you already know (i.e just how fucking good an author Terry Pratchett is), I suggest a question within the QOTW - a meta-QOTW, if you will.

Namely - what's your favourite Terry Pratchett novel, and what's your favourite quote? And why?

I'll get the ball rolling - favourite book's got to be 'The Fifth Elephant.' I love all the Sam Vimes novels, and this is the ultimate. It's funny (as you'd expect), but a lot more action-oriented than most of his novels. The tension throughout is masterfully controlled, and, no matter how many times I read it, my heart still begins to pump during the epic chase.

Favourite quote's got to be "Give a man a fire and he's warm for the day. But set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life."

Over to you...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:39, 12 replies)

"A short history of nearly everything" by Bill Bryson
This is one of my favourite books. It basically gives a brief layman's explanation of, well, almost everything.

It covers things like the creation of the universe and the earth, dinosaurs, volcanoes, meteors, (theres quite a lot in it about the big threats to our existence - supervolcanoes, meteors, stuff like that, and also what would happen were they to strike, all very interesting reading) great scientists and inventors - most of whom it seems were larger than life characters in their day, all given in an easy to read style.

I've read it twice now and intend to read it again very soon :D
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:39, 3 replies)

The Silver Sword
It's about children who get separated from their parents in war torn europe. Loved it as a child. Hubby has just bought me a new copy which I must get round to reading.

Three men in a Boat!

Just for this line if nothing else:
'When George is hanged, Harris will be the worst packer in this world'
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Thu 15 May 2008, 21:32, 3 replies)

The Da Vinci Code
didn't change my life for some reason.

I think there must be something wrong with me.

I didn't immediately find myself writing letters to the vatican demanding that they admit the existence of Jesus' great grandchavs.

Neither did I find myself incandescent with rage at the temerity of Dan Brown for writing such a glaringly inaccurate historical reference book.

I just read it and thought it was alright. It was a decent little twisty turny story, I thought. But then I discovered, by watching the news, that I was supposed to either be turned into some religious nut-case by reading it, or was expected to immediately burn my copy and Dan Brown's house.

I hadn't realised it was true! But the Sun said it is. What a fool I was!
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:26, 2 replies)

"I am the artful voyeur"
Seamus Heaney's North.

I first read the poetry in North when I was 22 years old. I was working as an archaeologist on a Viking excavation in Dublin, spending my weekends back in my home in Belfast. It was a summer of turbulence, violence, fear and hope - the referendum of the Good Friday Agreement.

Heaney's poems, written in 1975, capture the archaeology of Ireland, the invasions, the wars and the landscapes that marked the country from the Vikings to that present day. There was enormous resonance with what I read and what I was experiencing, both in my own country and my own life.

That was the summer I also fell deeply in love with the man I was set to marry. The pair of us sat in darkened pubs and sunlit parks scrutinising the intimacies of someone else's poetry.

The lines struck home:

"Tell me as you labour hard
To break this unrelenting soil"
- as we swung mattocks above our shoulders.

"I shouldered a kind of manhood,
stepping in to lift the coffins
of dead relations"
- his murdered father, my dying aunt.

"we will drive north again
past Strang and Carling fjords;"
- my lough-side home and his.

"your back is a firm line of eastern coast"
- nights spent mapping new bodies in a narrow single bed.

To anyone else, they are just words. To us they were a perfectly captured slice of time. I hope he still has his copy; I have mine.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:24, 3 replies)

I don't read much, but
I've found that I really like nonfiction books written by Western authors that are set in India. One was just a collection of short stories of people's firsthand experiences there. Another was called "Holy Cow" and was by a non-religious Australian woman who moved to Delhi and took various religions for a test drive. I found one once about a woman who bicycled across India, and didn't buy it, which I now regret.

I also recently enjoyed "Peace Like a River".

Once when I was sick I read 2001 and 2010 in a couple days, then went on to read 2061 and 3001 shortly thereafter. 2001 the book was so much better than the movie. Then again, so was Jurassic Park, 1000 Acres, and probably every other case in which I've both read the book and seen the movie.

When I was a kid, Judy Bloom books were totally rad.
(chase, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:19, Reply)

Now don't laugh but...
I'm quite a fan of Alan Bennett.



I love his genteel story telling and he can be very funny.

I've even got a bit of a crush on him.
( girlinthehole, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:18, 1 reply)

I am very surprised
no-one has mentioned Roald Dahl yet!

Fantastic Mr Fox was my favourite
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:16, 3 replies)

Picture the scene.
It is the year 2000. A young, fresh faced little baw has just failed his HNC in software development and has dropped out of college.

I didn't really mind, however. I was engaged to a pretty (although quite unstable) little lady, and was still living at home with the parents. Life was good. What's more, I was off on my holidays!

Back then, I wasn't much of a reader..... I seem to have an aversion to being "forced" into anything, and school had put me right off reading of any kind. Since then, I have discovered a love for art, history and books that I never thought possible when I was expected to take an interest in such things, but as of the time of this little tale, I had not yet discovered this.

It is summer. Myself, the future ball-n-chain and some friends had jetted off to the sunny climes of Tenerife for a fortnight. My first ever foreign holiday, I soon discovered that a lifetime of Scottish weather had rendered my pasty white torso rather susceptible to the sun, and as the missus was a sun worshipper, I was faced with a choice...... spend the entire 2 weeks on the beach by day, in the casualty ward of the local hospital with 3rd degree radiation burns all over my boobs by night, or stay back at the hotel alone for at least some of the time while the others baked themselves. I decided that skin cancer was not my life's ambition, and so reluctantly chose not to rise at 8 AM every morning after 2 hours sleep and trudge off to the beach. But what to do? I didn't want to just sit there, the edition of Official Playstation Magazine which I bought for the plane had been read from cover to cover (with an interesting article about MGS2, I seem to recall) and I had no gameboy. There was only one option..... one of the missus' books.

She had brought three, I seem to recall, two of them were trashy chick novels about romance or some lady gangster types or some such rubbish, leaving me with only one real choice.

Hannibal, by Thomas Harris.

I didn't expect much, not being one who enjoyed reading. I remember that first day, sitting there, red-skinned on a plastic chair on the balcony, slowly moving myself along the floor as the sun peeped round the side of the hotel. The book drew me in almost immediately, especially the way Hannibal's mind is described throughout, developing his character far beyond what the film shows. I found myself enjoying it to the point of actually talking about it with the missus. Once I had finished, she had a go at reading it too...... she claimed to be absolutely engrossed in it, then after 3 chapters she gave up, saying it was "too hard", something that now strikes a little chord in me, being that she's now the ex-missus.

I know it isn't a great masterpiece, but it did open me up to the world of books once again. Since then, I've read many fine books, none of which I'd probably have even considered had I not picked up that first little paperback to save myself from sunburn.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:10, Reply)

The tao of pooh!
Helps you along the path of being.

Pooh 'just is' and one day I'd like to be like Pooh.
( girlinthehole, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:05, 6 replies)

genius
the schroedingers cat trilogy

robert anton wilson

then the illuminatus! trilogy by the same fella

mindbendingly ace, both of em

rest in piece, bob
(harestylenumber1 loves weiner, Thu 15 May 2008, 21:04, Reply)

'Ender's Game' by Orson Scott Card
Probably the best sci-fi novel I have ever read (with the possible exception of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy). Also one of the only sci-fi novels to move me to tears at the end. The ending is totally unexpected, and so powerful it feels like a sucker-punch to the solar plexus.

The novel itself focuses on Ender, a 6 year-old child prodigy, who may be Earth's only hope against an alien aggressor who had drove the human race almost to extinction some years previously. Although the protagonist is painfully young, the book is so well written that it doesn't affect your ability to feel empathy for the young hero. He is put through a gruelling training regime to craft him into the ultimate war leader, and you can't help but feel sorry for him, constantly alone and always having to fight for survival. The story is so tense, I had to bite my tongue at times to stop from shouting out loud.

Also (to anyone who has read the book) - how great would it be if the battleschool game was an actual televised event? It would certainly rekindle my lost passion for sports.

And, for those of you who want a bit of an intelligent review (there must be someone) the novel is essentially a meditation on the horrors of war, the fragility of childhood and the dehumanising tactics used by the military to prepare for battle. The themes raised will stay with you long after the book is closed, and who knows, it may even change the way you think about human conflicts. Or, you might think it's a fucking good read. Either way - you should read this book.

Anyways, apologies for length - I'll leave you with a quote:
-"Individual human beings are all tools, that the others use to help us all survive."
-"That's a lie."
-"No. It's just a half truth. You can worry about the other half after we win this war."
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Thu 15 May 2008, 20:57, 5 replies)

Derren Brown
I read Derren Brown's Trick of the Mind book and his technique for mind palaces or mind labyrinths (can't remember the terminology) has transformed my ability to remember a shopping list of literally up to seven items.

How it works in essence is this: plot a route in your mind that you can remember easily. This is a linear route with special landmarks or markers. You can use a walk through the rooms of your house for example, or if you want to be flash, a huge building like a palace. You associate each 'marker' on your journey with something you need to remember by constructing a mental image of the thing you need to remember interacting with the marker. Maybe your front door could be covered in sticky jam that gets all over your hands, if you need to remember to get, erm, jam.

Unfortunately, being a woman of the female persuasion I have a limited capacity to plot and remember journeys, so my 'mind palace' is my journey from the bus stop at work to my desk, a route with precisely seven landmarks. Bus stop, wall, security gate, crossing, steps, messageboard and drinks machine. Whereas the famed 'mentalist' talks about remembering the Shakespeare plays in order using this technique, I merely use it to remember to get apples then milk then bay leaves.

So, a revolution for me, but I think you'll agree a pretty shit one. You should read the book though, it's quite good.
(Kazza , loathing myself so you don't have to, Thu 15 May 2008, 20:57, 5 replies)

Best History/Biography Books:
1776
Crusades (by Zoe Oldenbourg or something)
Battle Cry of Freedom
The Guns of August
The 9/11 Commission Report
John Adams (by McCollough or however it's spelled)
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 15 May 2008, 20:49, Reply)

Science-ish Books that changed my understanding of things:
The Making of the Atomic Bomb
Germs, Guns and Steel
Annals of the Former World
At Home in the Universe
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 15 May 2008, 20:45, 1 reply)