Each week we bring you a sample of the books we’re reading, the films we’re watching, the television shows we’re hooked on or the music we’re loving.

Mark Rubbo is reading Beauty Is A Wound by Eka Kurniawan

I’ve just been to Indonesia and read this remarkable novel by Eka Kurniawan. At 498 pages, it’s a monster but I finished it in a few days. Kurniawan tells the story of modern Indonesia through the eyes of a prostitute, Dewi Ayu, and her children, and his telling has all the hope and violence of the country’s history. The book is full of magic, ghosts, horror and humour. For some idea of what to expect, think Gabriel García Márquez or Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, though really, Beauty Is A Wound is quite unlike anything I’ve read before.

Holly Harper is reading Death by Video Game by Simon Parkin

I’m really looking forward to reading Death by Video Game, by Simon Parkin, which covers topics like Penn and Teller’s infamous Desert Bus, touted as “the worst game ever made” (the aim is to drive a bus from Tucson to Las Vegas, in real time, which takes about eight hours of continuous play), and the recent phenomenon of people dying in Taiwanese gaming cafes after prolonged sessions.

See, I wanted to read Death by Video Game this week, but Tuesday was also the day that Fallout 4 came out, and since then I’ve barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone read.

Seven years in the making, Fallout 4 puts you in the shoes of a survivor in post-apocalyptic Boston, fighting your way across a hostile landscape to find your infant son while you listen to jazzy fifties numbers on your radio. The play style is open-world, which means you can choose how you make your way through the wasteland: you can talk your way out of situations, hack security turrets, or, if you’re as inelegant as I am, you can put a lot of points into weapons and blast your way through.

So, uh, I’ll get back to Death by Video Game as soon as I’ve cleared this next raider camp.

Stella Charls is reading Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Thanks to Rainbow Rowell I’ve fallen hard and fast for two teenagers in 1986 America, holding my breath as they slowly (and I mean sloowwwly) fall in love. Rowell’s latest teen romance, Carry On, is the talk of the Readings Marketing Department at the moment (some of my colleagues adore the book so much they’ve started wearing Carry On t-shirts around the office), but rather than heading straight for this new release I’ve started with Eleanor & Park, Rowell’s YA book from 2013.

I haven’t read much YA since I was a teenager, but Eleanor & Park is utterly compelling. I don’t want to put this book down, but am anxious about how it might end. The two titular characters are so achingly awkward and sweet – both consider themselves to be misfits, and bond over mixtapes and comics on the bus. Eleanor is a chubby redhead with clothes that don’t fit right and are held together with safety pins; she can’t explain to her school counselor that she doesn’t have a toothbrush or a telephone at home. Park is half-Korean, can’t talk to his Dad about why he’s so bad at driving a stick, or confess to his Mum that he wants blonde streaks in his hair. It shocked me how quickly I cared so much for them both, which only made me more invested in their romance. The subtle reveal of Eleanor and Park’s difficult home lives (Eleanor’s in particular) makes reading this novel all the more addictive (and moving).

I only wish this book was around when I was a chubby, redheaded teenager. Eleanor might just be the strongest young woman I’ve encountered in fiction in quite some time, and she’s such a joy to spend time with.

Ann Le Lievre is reading Modern Love: The Lives of John and Sunday Reed by Lesley Harding and Kendrah Morgan

It seemed strange to me that I wasn’t drawn to read Modern Love as soon as it came out as some of my favourite, energetic Australian artists emerged during the 1940s and went on to flourish as a result of their connections with John and Sunday Reed at Heide in Melbourne. Sydney Nolan finding our landscape for the first time, when he was stationed in the Wimmera with the army in 1942; Joy Hester’s languid and aching brush and ink figure drawings; Albert Tucker’s dark and foreboding paintings influenced by the trauma of war – these are just a few examples of my favourite works of art.

Reflecting on my reluctance to read the book, I feel it was the idea of voyeurism that set me offside. I respect and love the work of these artists, but I had no wish to spy on their private lives. However, the thought that I might be missing out on a new experience nagged at me until I picked up Modern Love. Now, I can’t put the book down. And yes, it does portray the love affairs, the partings and the sadness that loving can also bring, but it has also proven to be an erudite and well-researched cultural and social history of a seminal time in Australian art history.

I feel I must visit Heide again soon, not just for the current exhibition but also for the opportunity to sit in the library of the old farmhouse, or to wander down by Sunday’s kitchen garden, and reflect on those heady times past.

Chris Gordon is reading Eat Your History: Stories and Recipes from Australian Kitchens by Jacqui Newling and The Broadsheet Melbourne Cookbook

Times are a changing and to be honest, that’s not a bad thing, at least, not food-wise. I’ve recently read through Eat Your History and the food back in 1788 was not so crash-hot. There was no filter coffee back then my friends, nor was there any tuna tartare with crushed pea salad. The food at the beginning of white settlement was pretty terrible, and shows how nuts the English were. Here they were in a hot climate, taking over land and indigenous rights, and eating roasts in the middle of the day. Truly insane. They would have fared better with a catch from the oceans around them, and a lettuce leaf.

The author of this tremendously interesting book has the best role in the whole nation: Jacqui Newling is Sydney Museum’s Resident Gastronome, and this book is a welcome view of, “we are what we eat”. Newling has pulled together forgotten tastes and lost techniques of cooking to illustrate from where we came. There are recipes for forgotten gems throughout.

On the other hand, The Broadsheet Melbourne Cookbook shows exactly where we are right now, culinary-wise. And what a ripper of a time to be eating! We are spoiled for choice here in Melbourne town, and this terrific book has a collection of recipes from all our favourite cafes and restaurants. Think Cumulus Inc., Mixed Business, I Love Pho, and many more. The book is divided into meals and there are wonderful how to do it pages for our survival – sourdough bread for example with handy tips from Tony of Dench bakery.

I do hear there is an equally fantastic Sydney version too…but whatever… Melbourne is the gastronomic capital of the world and it’s important for our sense of self that we don’t forget that.