(Raptly) reading Snow, by Orhan Pamuk. She's only fourteen pages into it and already she's hooked by two premises: 1)why are all the girls committing suicide? and 2) will the narrator succeed in having a love affair with the woman he's been dreaming about for twelve years?

There are two categories of favorite books, she says, the ones you are proud to love and the ones you are not so proud to love. In the first category is Another Country, by James Baldwin and in the second, is Mating, by Norman Rush--it's about a relationship in an exotic locale--Botswana. Here's an article in Salon by another reader who dubbed it (proudly) as a personal favorite.