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"There were Eastern men in felt hats with giant rims of rich gleaming fur, talking to long-bearded Jews about racks of animal pelts - the faces of small nasty critters gaping blankly at the sky. Chinese carrying crates of what he had to assume was China, coopers repairing busted casks, bakers hawking loaves, blonde maidens with piles of oranges, musicians everywhere, grinding hurdy-gurdys or plucking at mutant lutes with huge cantilevers projecting asymmetrically from their necks to support thumping bass halyards. Armenian coffee-sellers carrying bright steaming copper and brass tanks on their persons, bored guards with pikes or halberds, turbaned Turks attempting to buy back strange goods that (Jack realised with a shock) had also been looted from the Vienna siege-camp..."

The above passage relates to when one of the central figures in Stephenson's marvellous Baroque Trilogy enters the-then famous Leipzig fair. What struck me about this section of the book was Stephenson's brilliant description of the sheer fun that markets can involve. (Yes, the curmudgeons out there will start muttering about the triviality of reducing market economics to fun, good heavens). His description even reminded me of a more modern market: the futures exchange in London's Cannon Street. I used to visit the LIFFE building and would look down from the gallery to look at the sea of men - not many women - trading odd-sounding things like short-sterling futures and options, gesticulating at each other in small groups, more often resembling folk on the verge of a pub brawl than a place where gazillions of pounds, dollars and euros were being transacted.

We are so used to critiques of capitalism from people who decry the supposed coldness and soulnessness of markets, unlike the supposedly warmer and more fulfilling communal lifestyles they claim to favour. And yet as Stephenson has reminded me, the market is that supreme example of social interaction and co-operation, often gaudy and loud, alarming even, but never dull.