Ballard's 'Concrete Island', which I'm ashamed to say I had never got 'round to until now, even though I'm a fan. Man stuck on wastleand in the middle of motorways. Brilliant.
Heh, I remember trying to read this in fifth form (thought it'd be like the Crash movie or something) - I can still remember it in pretty fair detail, the wine bottles, the bit when his wife drives past, etc.
The writing in it just seemed so
harsh. Not in a cruel or mean way, but just in a really uninviting (I suppose, in a concrete-motorway-way), barren and emotion-less and I suppose 'poetry'-less way. Thats just what I remember though, might be miles offf. I read Crash (the book) as well, don't remember a word of that,
Definitely gotta revisit them sometime soon.
EDIT: I'm reading Eco's Baudolino at the moment, not as good as The Name of the Rose, but its a lot of fun. Monsters, lies, theological and scientifical discussions that go on for pages and pages. I love how he manages to sneak his theory in so subtly and unobtrusively.