One sure sign that a reader has reached old age is that he or she loses interest in new fiction. Seen it all. Been there, done that. It’s then that people nearly always do return to the books they loved when young, hoping for a breath of springtime as the autumn winds blow. And if they aren’t rereading “Treasure Island” or “The Secret Garden”? Then it’s likely to be the Bible, Plato’s dialogues or Montaigne’s essays because these inexhaustible classics address nothing less than the meaning of life, which really means, of course, the meaning of our own lives.
This is the concluding paragraph of Michael Dirda’s review of Vivian Gornick’s book: Unfinished Business: Notes of a Chronic Re-reader in the Washington Post. The full article is interesting and I’m sure the referenced book warrants reading (or re-reading).
Do you agree?
Continue reading “Old Man Reading”
A long-ago “friend” spent all of her free time reading mysteries: murder mysteries, procedurals, hard boiled detectives, cozies, thrillers, suspense, espionage, true crime, legal, noir, capers, and dogs named Pommes-frites. At this time I joined the club and read mystery series’s such as Travis McGee, Spenser, and all of the Ludlum books available at the time. It was a good experience (the books, not the friend) and through the years I have continued to toss a juicy detective novel in with all the classics and contemporaries that filled out my reading lists.
Continue reading “Detectives, Shamus’s, Curious Amateurs”
There’s one thing (amongst many) that truly shivers my timbers and that is when I am forced to admit that I never heard of an author … at least a serious author that doesn’t have Fabio on the cover of his book. But the Library of America series knew enough to publish a collection of five of the works of David Goodis: David Goodis: Five Noir Novels of the 1940s and 50s.
Now I am not an inveterate reader of mystery novels (like my mother was: she would read three a day) but I have read authors such as Georges Simenon, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, even John D. MacDonald, still, I never heard of David Goodis. I was even familiar with the Bogart movie based on Goodis’s novel and I’m certain that my daughter, who teaches Cinema Noir at the university, is well aware of Goodis, but not me.
Continue reading “Noir Novels”