I chose my holiday reading quite well, if I do say so myself.

Bush at War by Bob Woodward was a riveting insight into the Bush administration's response to 9/11. It made me think, terrifyingly, that a war on Iran, Syria or North Korea is by no means inconceivable.

Jon Steele's War Junkie gave a vivid portrait of life on the frontline, although it did feel like being shouted at for 500 pages.

But, but, but.

Cosmopolis by Don DeLillo was without doubt the biggest pile of steaming shite I've read in a long, long time. I found myself getting angry as I sat and read it that anyone could actually try and palm the stuff off as "literature" -- and that's not what you want on a relaxing holiday.

It pains me to say all this.

DeLillo was my idol in university and I devoted an extended essay to him. But Cosmopolis reminded me why I never read fiction any more. The book should be banned; not because it's offensive but because life's too short to waste your time reading it. It's over-written, rambling, show-offy tripe.

I hated it so much I don't even want to look at it on my bookshelf any more. The first person to e-mail me their address gets it free of charge through the post.