Of the lesser-known Oulipo members, the works of Jacques Roubaud should not be missed. His Mathematics, just published this year, is a great introduction to this writer who marries Oulipo, Proust, and mathematics (it’s a strange marriage).

It is that same haze of thought one feels when hovering around an idea that remains unelucidatable. It is two hours of serpentine meditation, that same maddening dart and weave between significance and insignificance, transcendence and babble.

If you come to my house and look at my bookshelves, you can very quickly and easily distinguish the gods from the demigods and lesser beings.

Plotwise, The Darkroom of Damocles is as riveting a detective story as I read all year, but its purpose is far beyond that of your average noir.