I've been dipping into Philip Gourevitch's brilliant book about Rwanda for six months now. I can only read a little at a time, not just because the events are so horrific but there are a lot of facts to absorb, my head is not really up to it. Still, having seen the films Shooting Dogs and Hotel Rwanda on television recently, it makes the events more imaginable, if that is the right word - the films are almost like study aids. Last night, I came across a description of a corpse - the man had had his feet and hands chopped off before he died. This apparently was a common torture, the Hutu extremists called it cutting down to size. Crowds would gather to cheer and watch the victims die in agony. I dropped the book on the floor and know it will be a while before I go back. Sure I would have nightmares about machetes I dreamt instead that I'd written a novel about Iran and it was just out in hardback, it had a lovely red and gold cover but I cannot remember its title.