When I was an unformed youth I revelled in reading novels dealing with war and heroism, the more jingoistic the better. Vietnam cured me of this aberration. Prison stories about hardened criminals carving Swiss Army knives out of a bar of Lava soap once held my interest. A dime at Q cured me of this fascination .. wait .. was it Folsom or maybe just a bad dream? Shoot, I even wasted a year or two reading Science Fiction.Continue reading “The More I Read, the More I Want To Read”
Not everything we read has a lasting impression on our lives. Some works are just entertainment. But what happens when the novel you are reading is neither entertaining nor intellectually stimulating (or even spiritually satisfying)?
Now that I am entering my eighth decade and have a goodly number of books read to my credit, I can categorically attest that my personal evaluation of a novel is about as good as anyone else’s.