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Monday, July 26, 2004

 

I'm really kind of pleased by the rise of the literary mystery. Like "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime" or "Motherless Brooklyn." Both of which I guess are members of an even narrower genre: Literary Mysteries Involving Someone With an Intriguing Mental Problem.

Hmm.

Anyway, I like them because I get the joyous cheesiness of mystery fiction while still maintaining my superiority over all those other subway riders clutching ancient airport paperbacks with names like "A Bullet for the Shah," (I really saw that one) or tabloid newspapers.

The best thing about a mystery is that there's someone else already there to do the work. Oh, detective. I know you'll have it all sorted out by the end, and I won't even be bothered if you manage to unravel the mystery through clues that are opaque to the reader, or would be practically impossible to add up into your final equation. I'll just let you do your job, content to watch someone else clean up the mess.

posted by Reen |link| 0 comments

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