So, I've got a large reading list to get through, but I can't always be assed to actually get much reading done, because I have lots of schoolwork, and when I'm not doing schoolwork I feel more like relaxing with a nice game of Minecraft. I've resolved to change this, but thought it might be fun to start a book club. Would anybody be interested? We'd rotate who chooses each month's book (perhaps we'd have two people choose books, to give people a choice), then read and discuss them.

Alas, even as a literature student, I'm in the very same position. I don't get to read the stuff I want to read because class.

read a book read a book read a muhfucken book
read a book read a book read a muhfucken book
read a book read a book read a muhfucken book
read a book read a book read a muhfucken book

not a sports page, not a magazine
but a book nigga, a fuckin book nigga
not a sports page, not a magazine
but a book nigga, a fuckin book nigga
not a sports page, not a magazine
but a book nigga, check this out

If time is important to you, I recommend The Nimrod Flipout: Stories by Etgar Keret. They're short stories, and they're strangely moving: surreal, funny and sad all at the same time. I haven't read it yet, but I'm told The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God and Other Stories by the same author is even better.

I just recently finished John Buchan's The Thirty-Nine Steps, a short novel of the 'man-on-the-run' thriller kind. It won't change your life but I recommend it, since it's more inspiring than enthralling.
I'm gonna watch Hitchcock's 1935 version soon, although it has some important differences with the book.

Now reading Sophocles' Antigone, Oedipus the King and Oedipus at Colonus. Greek tragedies are always for summer.

If you're into rare fantasy books, I recommend A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsay. It's a mix of epic travel with philosophy and speculation, plus the small bit of sci-fi so typical in early 20th century fiction books. Very Nietzschesque, sometimes reminiscent of Gustav Meyrink's The Green Face due to certain themes, but more misanthropic and tending-towards-depression (but not suicide-inducing, don't worry) than the novel of the Austrian author.
    Dry style, even laughably crude, with more interest in the ideas exposed than in developing the characters' psychology and the world-building, which is admirable.

A rara avis of a book.