It's nice to be informed that Four Walls by Vangelis Hatziyannidis is "probably the most atmospheric Greek novel of this year".
Stuff like this sticks in my head.
A lifetime's accumulation of these basically meaningless tidbits can create an illusion of depth, when it's really just knowing very little about a tremendously broad range of subjects.
Inevitably I'll find myself in a conversation where knowing that Four Walls is a Greek novel of some repute will dazzle my companion. It happens all the time.
/edit
as if on cue, in the very next stack of books The Economist informs me that Elif Shafak is "well set to challange Mr Pamuk as Turkey's formost contemporary novelist" on the strength of his novel The Gaze.
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