It's bizarre to think that reading, once a completely solitary experience, is now a shared, communal activity that connects people, places, events, history...

I realise this is a very high minded thought to be having on a Tuesday after a long weekend, but I just finished reading De Niro's Game by Rawi Hage, who read beautifully from it at the Sydney Writers' Festival. It's about the war in Lebanon, which in some form or other continues today (see here, here and here). It is discussed here and reviewed by ordinary punters here.

What the hell did readers do when they finished reading a book in ye olden days before the internet? Just thought about it a bit, I guess.