Summer Readings - Part 1
because there are other things going on ...
What happened to the piles of comic books I read during these long vacations on the sandy beaches of the North Sea? Yes, the water was cold. It just didn’t bother me. I believe kids are like seals; they have a protective insulating layer between skin and bones.
I remember walking into the shops that lined Church Street (America has Main Street, Europe has Church Street). They sold the typical stuff you still find in beach town outlets today: toys, balls, towels, sunglasses … not flip flops, we didn’t have those yet—I can picture ugly plastic sandals that looked like some kind of invertebrate animal, especially when a lone one washed on shore at low tide. The shops also offered items that are less common today: post cards, paperbacks, and, stacked in revolving displays, pocket-size comic books printed in black and white (covers were in color) on cheap yellowish paper, in other words ‘pulp’. They were not the classic super-hero stuff that collectors drool over, more comic strip and cartoon spin-offs, just enough pages to keep you entertained for a couple of hours. If ice cream dripped on them, if wet and salty fingers left smudges on them, so be it. Discard after reading. A few cents worth. They didn’t make it back home in the suitcases.
Spin the dial forward a few years, and I had graduated to ‘real’ books. I brought a stack of hefty volumes from home and always ran out before the vacation was over. This is when I started plundering other people’s shelves. Uncles and aunts, cousins who happened to rent a place nearby. Uncle Albert read Mickey Spillane and racy (I’m being polite here) French spy novels—my parents never supervised my reading, they would have been appalled. Aunt Bertha’s tastes were more literary. She’s responsible for the summer I spent reading The Forsyte Saga and The Godfather. I’ve always been an omnivorous reader, I loved both. Dad was a James Hadley Chase and Ed McBain reader. Mom was fond of Daphne du Maurier (thinking of her, I’m rereading Jamaica Inn right now). The cousins loved Dutch comic strips and I inhaled those too. It might have helped with language skills.
Funny how these memories stick …
As does the habit of hauling a book bag on vacation. Technology helps. I don’t have to carry twenty pounds of literature anymore, the iPad does the job and I’m no longer at risk of throwing out my back or running out of material.
So what’s the summer tally so far? In no particular order:
A Drink Before the War – Dennis Lehane.
Waves of Burden – Curtis Ippolito.
A Violent Masterpiece – Jordan Harper.
Claws of the Collector #2 – Douglas Lumsden.
Hush Money – Robert B. Parker.
Boots, BBQ, and Bloodshed – the Sisters in Crime North Dallas anthology (I have a story there, check it out).
As of today, I have started:
The Best Private Eye Stories of the Year, 2025 (one of mine’s in it).
Jamaica Inn – Daphne du Maurier … I should write a gothic yarn someday, it’s soooo satisfying …
The Badge – Jack Webb (with a searing James Ellroy intro … a find at a local library book sale. That’s another vacation/travel habit: grab something to read somewhere when you already have tons on the pile).
Next up:
Coyote – Robert M. Dowling’s biography of Sam Shepard - Looking forward to that one.
Absolute Friends – John Le Carré (another library book sale find).
Bad Intentions – the Warren Zevon-inspired anthology from Literary Garage.
And yes, some of this is actually on PAPER! I haven’t completely given up on the 20-pound book bag.
P.S.: a message to the friends who sent me their books in advance copy or beta read: Folks, no worries, I’m on it!
And another little hello to Russell Thayer who’s working with me on our third retro-noir: when I don’t read, I write… but he knows that.
It's hard to find the time to do all that we would like to. Squeeze in as much as you can!
In May I read or re-read: Silesian Station by Downing; Stalin's Ghost by Cruz Smith; Flawless by Selby and Campbell (it's also a doc); The Discovery of France by Robb; Wolves Eat Dogs by Cruz Smith; The AI Con by Benden and Hana.
June-July: Regime Change by Haberman and Swann; The Invisible Emperor by Braude; Bite-Sized History of France by Mitchell; The Hobbit by Tolkien; The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan; Independence Square by Cruz Smith. (he's my favorite series author)
And along the way, bits and pieces of probably a dozen other books I gave up on for various reasons. Maybe more. I find that too many books across genres start well and then don't maintain the standard set by, say, a Prologue or Preface. Which is why I re-read books sometimes because I'm at a loss, amid rooms full of them, to find something that grabs me when the new books fail to hold my interest. I also return books if the production displeases me: like one recently that had a pale 10-point font.
Currently reading the dazzling Mr. Lincoln's War by Bruce Catton. I've never read anything about The Civil War so vivid and engrossing. For me now it's mostly history and biography with dashes of thriller. I haven't read much litfic in a long time.
Oh, I forgot that awful bestseller The Fires, set in Iceland. It had the worst ending I've read in years and was a bizarre blend of romance, disaster novel, geology and history.