I rarely take the chance to read whole books. On this five-day foray to England, I read two: The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. They were both immensely gratifying.

At £4.95, Oscar Wilde’s only novel, Dorian Gray, was a literary bargain. I plucked it from the classics section at Blackwell Books, where you can count on the use of full sentences and historical references. Other benefits of the classics: long words and interesting sentence structure. Reading one is like sitting through a surreptitious English lesson, with social commentary instead of sentence diagramming. Dorian Gray was no exception. It was a colourful, thought-provoking page-turner.

I found The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime on the shelf in a London flat. Surrounded by hundreds of other novels in a bookstore, it would hardly have distinguished itself, but on the shelf of a friend, it instantly had much more appeal. The Curious Incident is narrated by an emotionally-detached boy. It is a window into the workings of a very different mind, an exploration of beauty and empathy, and a lightning-fast read.

Both books are worth your time. Unfortunately for me, I’m now fresh out of books. I’m in the market, as it were. Any novel suggestions?

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1. The book was immensely popular. Occasionally, this is indicative of quality, as in the case of Freakonomics. More frequently, widespread popularity is indicative of terrible writing. Case in point: The Da Vinci Code; Harry Potter.

2. It is possible to feel like you’ve read the book without ever laying eyes on it. At least, that’s how I felt after watching a Malcolm Gladwell clip on Ted, attending a Radley Yeldar presentation rife with Blink anecdotes, and reading numerous references to Blink in newspapers and magazines.

3. New books cost too much money. This is especially true in South Africa, where a new book costs as much as a three-course dinner at a fine restaurant, but is still generally true of the rest of the world.

Curiosity got the better of me when I saw Blink available in the library at work. (Note that libraries are, in general, a very good way to avoid conflict with reason three.)

Blink is great. It’s better than any quotations you’ve read in articles, and there’s more in it than any man can pack in a PowerPoint. It’s well written, interesting and thought-provoking.

Moreover, Blink doubles as a book on relationship advice. One of the primary examples Gladwell explores in the book is a scientist who analyses interactions between married couples and then predicts whether or not they’ll eventually get divorced. The science is solid, correctly predicting marital fate in more than 90 percent of cases. Feeling a little unsure about your partner? Read Blink to find out what sort of behaviour is a “deal-breaker” for couples who divorce.

Perhaps you’re happy with your love life? Well, then maybe you need to read Blink because you’re a bit racist, and you don’t want to be. I’m not pointing any fingers; we profile people all the time, whether we want to or not. Blink explains how that process works and how to train ourselves out of racist tendencies. This is important, substantive stuff.

Perhaps you’re neither racist nor passive-aggressive toward your mate? Don’t worry, there’s plenty more in this book for you. It’s a fast read, educational, entertaining, and currently available for a four-week lease from Launch. Consider it recommended.

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“How to Drink” is a collection of mini-rants, recipes, tips and anecdotes about all things drink-worthy. Moore makes the very reasonable point that while many of us have an understanding of gourmet food, we have little appreciation of what makes a good drink good.

She explains what to consider when making a cup of tea, and lists all the necessities of a well-stocked bar. She describes the differences between various coffee beans, and elaborates on the effects the shape of a glass can have on the taste of wine. Many of her explanations border on the anal retentive, but the information is nonetheless enlightening.

So far, I am inspired to buy a teapot, and to empty my freezer of old, bitter coffee. I am also contemplating the number of new friends I might suddenly acquire if I simply fill my cupboards with all the liquors and spirits Moore deems essential. Consider the book recommended.

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