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The appeal of this book was the possibility that one of the central founding figures of Western (and indeed world) civilisation was a literary invention. It's a big claim and the author makes a very strong case that has pushed me from the "The supernatural stuff in Bible was obviously mythical but there probably was a historical figure that the Jesus stories were based on"-Camp over to the "The likelihood that Jesus existed is pretty small"-Camp. And it's not headline-grabbing trashy pseudo-history. A peer-revieweed academic work, it's closely and very rationally argued by a respected mainstream historian. His use of Bayes Theorem to arrive at a probability that Jesus was not a historical figure is refreshing and, well, rational. It's not always an easy read because of its exhaustive thoroughness but I found the narrator's (the author himself) style and delivery made it accessible.

Where to start? Finishing the last in a revered series of novels has left me feeling a bit bereft, but also a bit relieved. Reading (okay, listening to) the seven novels in "In Search of Lost Time" was undertaken as a challenge to my present self to put right the failure by my former, 20-year old French Studies student self to complete the Proust marathon at university. Do I wish I had read it then? Well, assuming I had had the patience, I would probably not have had the psychological maturity to appreciate Proust's insights, so yes, I wish I had, but it wouldn't have done me much good.

This final book acts as a sort of summing up, a realisation of the author's true metier and is more philosophical in character. Unless I missed them(!) there were no dramatic twists but there was plenty of wistful reflection on the nature of time and memory.

Revisiting an author I avoided when I studied French at university, I was surprised that Proust's writing was more accessible than I had feared. Not that it immediately grabs you: the vast sentences with their minute analysis of characters' motives ("Nooo, not another subclause - my puny intellect can't cope!") engages you only slowly. Don't look for a page-turning twist-driven plot here. What you get is a sort of beautifully-written, melancholy and contemplative retrospective set in fin de siecle France and driven by the big themes of love and memory.