You can learn a lot about watering when you grow roses in pots. You water them one day a lot and before you know it they are dry. Water doesn't stay like it does in the ground. Or, if you don't have drainage they can stay wet and that is worse. Also, you wash nutrients out and you expose the tender hair roots to the side and the bottom of the pot. The ground stays at an even temperature but pots do not. They can get hot. And finally, roses do not like to be confined. My experience is roses in pots are always stunted and unhappy.

Frieda - The Siege of Krishnapur would be in the OK category for me. Nothing special, but not bad either. I've got a bit of a soft spot for it, though, as it was the last one I needed to get to complete my collection, so I was very pleased when I found a nice copy on ABE and the parcel arrived through the door. It's a while since I read The Sea, The Sea so I don't remember the particular scene that you mention - obviously it didn't strike me in the same way as it did you. Life of Pi is most certainly not a fantasy, and it doesn't have any talking animals. Part of the pleasure of the book is the unsentimental way that animals are treated. Here's my review of it from the RP review thread we did a few years ago. (I think I might try reviving that...) ================================================== This is one of the few times when a Booker Prize winner lives up to the type. I've rarely enjoyed a book so much. It's not a difficult read, but it's got enough in it to make anyone think. It's full of little twists, and some lovely touches of humour. It's the story of a sixteen-year-old boy called Pi (as in 3.14159 - you'll have to read the story to find out why!). He and his family are on a cargo ship on it's way to Canada, carrying several large zoo animals; the ship is shipwrecked, and Pi finds himself on a lifeboat with a zebra with a broken leg, a hyena, an orang-utan - and a 450-pound Bengal tiger. Which makes for a bit of a tense atmosphere.... It really is one of those books where I envy anyone coming to it for the first time. I'm sure I'll read it again soon. Here's just a few extracts that particularly appealed to me. I hope they give a flavour of the book, without giving anything away. It was my first clue that atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak speaks of faith, Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them - and then they leap. I'll be honest about it. It's not atheists that stick in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the Garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" then surely we are permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. I am not one to hold a prejudice against any animal, but it is a plain fact that the spotted hyena is not well served by it's appearance. It is ugly beyond redemption. He's petulant! It's morning in Bethany and God's hungry; God wants His breakfast. He comes to a fig tree. It's not the season for figs, so the tree has no figs. God is peeved. The Son mutters, "May you never bear fruit again," and instantly the fig tree withers. So says Matthew, backed up by Mark. My fellow castaway came into view. He raised himself on...

Well, I really did enjoy Mr Pip. Not as much as would have liked to - it's in two parts (not literally part 1 and part 2, but before and after a major event), and I felt the second part was a bit weak compared to the first part. But if it's short-listed - and I'd like it to be - I'll certainly be happy to re-read it. Now reading, reluctantly, On Chesil Beach - can't find any of the others in the bookshops at the moment. The reluctance stems from a slight distaste of Ian McEwan - he's a marvellous writer, but there always seems to me to be a sort of slightly smug feeling about the way he writes - "I'm a great writer, and I know I am" sort of thing. But I have to admit I'm enjoying this one more than I expected to, so far.

Jan - I have some sympathy with you about McEwan, I have to admit. But aren't all writers a bit formulaic? However, I can't let your assertion about "the ever increasing paucity of the Booker selections" go unchallenged. This year has not been a bad selection by any means; last year was a bit disappointing (all statements IMHO, of course!) - but the year before was quite marvellous. John Banville won with The Sea, The Sea and Julian Barnes, Kazuo Ishiguro, Ali Smith, Zadie Smith and Sebastian Barry were all shortlisted - and McEwan actually missed the shortlist that year with Saturday - a book that plenty of people reckoned was good enough to win. There were five quite marvellous novels out of the six on the shortlist. The year before that, Cloud Atlas was on the shortlist - that book in itself is one I would set against your statement about the paucity of modern literature. People forget that in the "good old days" there was also a hell of a lot of trash too. Perhaps your idea of waiting a few years and see which ones survive is a good one. Me, I think the Booker shortlist is normally a fairly good pointer to at least some of the future classics.