I just heard The Cure for the first time earlier today. Neat! Like Belle and Sebastian meets Ben Folds with a dash of TMBG, I say, trying to analogize to the five musicians that I know.

So! A few book reviews are in order, what with me tearing through volumes like mad.

Midnight's Children by Salman "Slammin'" Rushdie. Confession: I didn't even know till a few months ago that Rushdie is Indian. I thought he was an Arab. But No Doubt He's Indian*, and I enjoyed his thoroughly Indian tale. Midnight's Children follows a boy and his family before, during, and after India's Independence (and simultaneous Partition with the new state of Pakistan) for around 500 pages. Rushdie does magical realism, but well, and his plot twists are more than adequate. I tired of his Connie Willis-like subplot(s) and style, but quite seldom, and overall I recommend Midnight's Children to other Indians. I'm not sure others' patience would be rewarded.

The Chain of Chance by Stanislaw Lem. Enjoyed! Recommended! Confusing, but in a good way, and the mystery was fair. As in some Asimov mystery, more of the Black Widowers and less of the Robots series, Chain of Chance is not that sci-fi, more of a straight mystery with a few slightly futuristic plot devices. I can see how some people might be bewildered and turned off by the first half or so, but if you've enjoyed such Lem as The Futurological Congress, you'll probbaly like this. It's not as bewildering as Memoirs Found in a Bathtub, which I gave up on twenty pages in.

The Futurians by Damon Knight. One of my supervisors laughed over this in the break room, so I borrowed it. It's a relatively quick read chronicling the intersecting lives of some Golden Age sci-fi writers in the 1940s and 1950s. The personalities turned me off, since I already run into too many snarky neurotic clever people. But I found some lovely insights in his descriptions and interviews. Worth it for me, since I just borrowed it from someone. But don't seek it out unless you thrive on sci-fi biography, as my supervisor does.

No More Dead Dogs by Gordon Korman. Fantastic. I started and finished it tonight. A lot in common with The Twinkie Squad (athletics, the school play, a stand-up honest kid whom no one believes, detention with geeks as punishment (loosely), point-of-view shifts, middle-school setting), even above and beyond the usual zany antics, believable gimmick characters, fast plotting, implied celebrity cameo(s), and understated romance (sort of) I've come to expect from Korman. I practically fell in love with the main character. I imagined him speaking in Leonard's voice. Er, Leonard, speaking of which, I recommend that you read this.

$5.99, paperback. As per usual, especially with Korman, the back-cover blurb gives away plot points and misses the whole point and theme of the book, which has a lot more in common with Avi's And Nothing But the Truth** than with the Sweet Valley Babysitters Klub bilge that takes up space we could use to stock more Philip Pullman.

Hey Korman, I really enjoyed Son of Interflux, in which Simon Irving hesitates to let his classmates know that his father heads the biggest corporation in the world. Now I see that you've written Son of the Mob, in which "Vince Luca is just like any other high school guy except for one thing -- his father happens to be head of a powerful crime organization." Er, I hope the rest of the book takes a completely different riff on the similar premise (a hope strengthened by the plot twist giveaways in the blurb), and that you make at least one self-conscious Sopranos reference.

In Cody's Deals, I've seen Susan Love's Breast Book (self-care for women) and Don DeLillo's Underworld in our Bargain Books section for about $5 or $6 each, and a hardcover biography of Tesla for about $4. Neat!

Oh, and isn't Kris's "Leonard Could Play The Banjo (It Was Found Beside His Body)" lovely and clever and saddening? It's the first time I've ever heard myself referenced in a song. About seven in-jokes, and several reminders of mortality, all in 4:30.

Gosh, I should sleep.

* From the headline of an India Currents story on the Indian-American drummer for No Doubt.

** And Nothing But the Truth, which I started writing as To Say Nothing Of the Dog, takes place entirely in the primary-source text of the plot universe. E-mails, memos, diary entries, transcripts of conversations, newspaper stories. Even at twelve I could tell this was neat. Also, the plot concerns free speech and patriotism, and shifting perspectives. Always relevant.