Friday, January 30, 2004

I do not read the New York Times book review pages anymore. I visit the local library five blocks up Oak Street once every one or two weeks and pick up a stack of four or five titles that might be interesting. I read southern writers, Texas writers, detective and crime writers, mystery writers, funny writers, and every once in a while a lit-fic writer. I will also pick up a history or a non-fiction, but our selection of those is not good. By the way, I was not impressed with Don Delillo's "Cosmopolitan", regardless of how he is regarded by sophisticates.

Today I was lucky enough to run into Nell, the retired librarian who knows every nuance of my reading habits. She led me to this first novel by author Alafair Burke.

Alafair might be a familiar name to you. That was detective Dave Robicheaux's daughter's name in the James Lee Burke novels set in south Louisiana. And Alafair Burke is James Lee Burke's daughter in our real world. Nell tells me the book is pretty good for a first. I plan to start it just after I finish this new Ed McBain.

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