For years D has been trying to get me to read Thomas Tryon. I have Harvest Home and The Other on my shelf--reading copies in paperback. However, I have not made much progress since I have owned them the past four years.
What can be more pathetic than this? I attempted to read about thirty pages of one of the books--and I cannot, for the life of me, remember which book it was. Now I feel guilty about that.
Making matters more shameful, in one way at least, is that I have a copy of Nick Carter's Tarantuala Strike on the same shelf. I will probably read Nick Carter before I read Tryon.
Since you have seen the cover art above, you get an idea of the genre. Yeah--pure masculinist and pugilistic escape fiction. Perfect for escape and throttling through the brain. I am convinced that these kinds of novels/ fiction are far less violent to my culture, mind, and sense of self than, say, watching narratives about child rape or prostitute serial killers or familial incest on Law & Order: SVU or CSI: New York or Any Major Network: Overworked Stereotypical Cop/Lawyer Playbook. Heck yes, I enjoyed some of those shows for a while. However, I think I've maxed out my tolerance for child killing scenarios, scripts which portray deceit/ lying/ abuse by cops/ lawyers as ethical behavior because it is necessary to catch bad guys, and the generally turgid replication of Western Civilization's psychoses as we spiral down the Kali Yuga's septic pipe.
Me quiet now. Me go read about Narnia. That makes for a happy me.
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