I've just finished reading Italo Calvino's The Path To The Spiders' Nest. For a first novel it's reasonably quaint (nothing like later post-modern Calvino) but quite touching and lovely despite the horrendous backdrop of the Italian Fascist occupation.
Now I'm dividing my time between Calvino's masterwork, Invisible Cities and Pierre Schaeffer's In Search Of A Concrete Music. This balance sort of works given that both books can be read for a bit then left for a day or so. Invisible Cities is a series of vignettes on imaginary cities and Schaeffer's is (for the most part) a series of diary entries.