Boring book club part 1

I've finally ploughed through A Hundred Years of Solitude by by Gabriel Garcia Márquez. I bought it when I went to the Philippines in January this year, and started on it when I brought it to Hong Kong.

It's one long, ultimately statisfying read, well deserving the title of the epic novel academics call it, although at times I felt like I was wading through glue. Some nights I could hardly go beyond two pages before getting a headeache, confused and drowsy - all at the same time, but most of the nights, I went on and on till the wee hours of the morning, only to turn in because it was getting alarmingly late ( or early - that's debatable).

I've been reading lots of fiction lately, perhaps an auto response to the blah of scientific papers, and despair of world news. I don't have a regular subscription to the Straits Times anymore, and the few times I pick it up, the appalling standard of journalism (or maybe it is due to the lack of 'news' in Singapore) makes me wonder how anyone would want to read from that birdcage liner when BBC news makes for a much better substitute.

I'm moving to much lighter stuff for my next bed time reading material... everyone's reading it! Guess what it is?