Darkness and LIght for Months

Sometimes it takes me months to read a book: currently, I am reading Corelli's Mandolin and it is such a treasure, so lyrically written, that I approach it reverently, taking it in small morsels, and wanting to own it instead of renewing it repeatedly from the library. Other books languish on my nightstand, only finished out of a sense of obligation, not interest. The latter case applies to Darkness and Light by John Harvey. This was a book I started reading this August when I had a short day and a half vacation with my son up at a lake in the Adirondacks. Our gracious hosts accommodated John in their basement pool room and me in the second floor under the rafters of their comfortable camp. Retiring early, I borrowed a book, said Darkness and Light. It began well enough but a day of fresh air cruising on the lake but me swiftly to sleep. I brought it home to finish and to pass on to someone else.

There are so few British mysteries that engage me. Is it because I overdosed on Brit Lit in college or is it my visceral animosity to all things English based on personalities? I love American mysteries, the faster the pace, the more I enjoy them. The more violent the crime and the more eccentric the detective/good guy, the deeper I fall into the plot and the faster I read the book. John Harvey's plot moves slowly. His retired investigator, Elder, has the now typical family problems and as a consultant, has the experience but not the respect (boy does that also hit home).

The story line like the recent fad of Scandinavian best sellers has an obvious focus on crimes against women and even minor characters or secondary suspects all are actively hostile, if not criminal, when it comes to their relationships with women. This is not the angle I want to pursue vis a vis the last month of the lust list.

There are two or three others in this series but Elder does not call to me, nor does Harvey. I must tiptoe back to Corelli, cherishing the writing quite similarly to my switching the car radio to listen to classical music and fell myself decompress a couple of times a week instead of hyping myself up on Southern rock.