Twenty six novels the man has published, all mysteries, and I am now reading my first one, having been encouraged to do so only after seeing Tom Nolan's review in a Saturday Wall Street Journal, whose reviews I mostly avoided in the past. And it is a literary mystery, so much so that one is surprised to see it published as a narrow genre novel. But then, that's where the money is, isn't it.
And so, all my practiced disdain for everything that's popular and genre, all that airport lit, New York lit, all my snobism and taste for the slightly eclectic have led me nowhere. (I say, 'slightly eclectic' because the radically eclectic doesn't appeal to me either.)
I've ordered another of his book on Amazon, for a mere $0.01 plus shipping, and am on the lookout for more - there are twenty four others, after all!
In the meantime, I am unable to finish another tome, a literary novel, because although it is rich and readable, it just doesn't make final sense. I'll write about it here another time.
The mystery I'm reading is The Crime of Julian Wells, by Thomas H. Cook.
