The Tin Men - Michael Frayn

I enjoyed this rather dated but very funny satire about the computer industry in the mid-60s. Some of the social attitudes are long gone but the AI stuff stands up surprisingly well, and there are some good set pieces.

Me - Katharine Hepburn

One would expect this most unconventional of Hollywood actresses to write an unusual autobiography and she doesn't disappoint. She uses a rat-a-tat prose style contrived to mimic her unusual speech patterns, and gives us nicely constructed portraits of figures such as Louis B. Mayer, George Cukor and, of course, Spencer Tracy.

The Twelve Caesars - Suetonius

Apparently, parricides in ancient Rome were punished by the culprit being tied in a sack with a dog, a snake, a rooster and a monkey and thrown into the Tiber. Hell of a way to go.

The Twelve Caesars is full of such entertaining detail, being a romp though the biographies of Julius Caesar, Claudius, Nero, Caligula and a whole bunch of less well-known egomaniacal despots. In Robert Graves' translation from the Latin, we are treated to a catalogue of sexual perversion, monstrous brutality and murderous ambition that would put the New South Wales Labor Party to shame. Great fun.

From Russia With Love - Ian Fleming

Although easily digestible and passably entertaining, I am still baffled by the popularity of Fleming among otherwise quite highbrow commentators. The misogyny and racism is one thing (not too bad here compared to some Bonds I've read), but the quality of prose is shocking. One painful scene between our hero and the Russian seductress clumsily switches the perspective every other line, and interpolates explicit thoughts where a skilful writer would have implied everything through a competent use of dialogue.

And how about this for a bit of purple prose:

...Istanbul glittered at the end of the broad half-mile of bridge with the slim minarets lancing up into the sky and the domes of the mosques, crouching at their feet, looking like big firm breasts.

Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - Anthony Powell

We join the Dance halfway through the fifth novel of a twelve book sequence. Our narrator has provided a lengthy description of a dinner with a couple who may or may not be emotionally intimate:

When the waiter returned with some money on a plate, she apportioned the silver equitably between Moreland and myself, leaving the correct tip; a series of operations that would have presented immense problems of manipulation to Moreland. All this enterprise made her appear to possess ideal, even miraculous, qualifications for becoming his wife. They were, indeed, married some months later. The ceremony took place in a registry office, almost secretly, because Moreland hated fuss. Not long after, perhaps a year, almost equally unexpectedly, I found myself married too; married to Isobel Tolland. Life – the sort of life Moreland and I used to live in those days – all became rather changed.

So the narrator’s wedding is mentioned only in passing, an afterthought of an afterthought, and barely mentioned again. This is typical of Powell, as is the alternation between long, contemplative sentences with lots of subclauses and short, factual sentences.

The importance of elision and rhythm are shared between this sequence and music, explaining in part the title A Dance To The Music of Time. The Dance also refers to the complex interplay of characters over time. In this instalment, the exchange of partners intensifies and the musical motif finally enters the main narrative.

As is becoming increasingly clear, it's all rather brilliant.

Swearing - Geoffrey Hughes

I found some fascinating nuggets in this rather dry study of the history of verbal rudeness, but it dwelt for too long in the middle ages and seemed to me to be overly reliant on Beowulf and The Canterbury Tales as representative texts. I am still keeping an eye open for a more entertaing history of naughty words - anyone got any suggestions?

She - H. Rider Haggard

A cracking adventure yarn from the days of high Victorian imperialism, involving swamp-dwelling cannibals, hidden temples and the original "She Who Must Be Obeyed". There is much unintentional comedy from the implicit assumption of authority on the part of both the narrator and the author. I was particularly tickled by the narrator's habit of marvelling at the glory of the African fauna before unpacking his rifle and shooting it.

At Lady Molly's - Anthony Powell

The Dance continues delightfully. It has become clear that the narrator, Nick Jenkins, is a minor character in his own story and that all attention is on the supporting cast. In this case, most of the narrative is taken up by the eccentric Widmerpool's abortive engagement, with Nick's own engagement garnering little more than a passing mention.

Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens

I am, by now, familiar enough with the shortcomings of Dickens; sentimentality, a manichean worldview and some shocking anti-Semitism. All three are particularly heinous in this early work, with the further impediment of an implausible and passive protagonist, yet somehow the novel still captivates.

The evocation of the grottier parts of London, inhabited by iconic characters such as Sikes, Nancy, Fagin and the Artful Dodger is utterly splendid, and every time the narrative leaves the capital it loses momentum. Certain scenes will, I suspect, stay with me forever, particularly the penultimate chapter featuring Fagin facing up to his horrible fate.

On the anti-Semitism question, it is especially egregious in the first edition (the one I read) wherein Fagin is continuously, and disparagingly, referred to as "the Jew". Most of these references were amended in later editions, apparently in deference to a Jewish friend of Dickens.

I suppose this is the most famous and widely read "classic" novel that I had not read up until I read it, if you see what I mean. I don't know what takes its place...The Three Musketeers maybe?