I am sitting upstairs in a back room the east end of London. This project can only go as quickly or as slowly as I read which depends on other things most of the time.

I could read a lot of short books quickly I suppose to get things moving but that is not quite the point.

I tried that with the Maigret series which for a while I was hoping would be something worth bringing back into currency. That was after I read George Simenon’s brilliant The Train which is certainly in my 20th century GreatReads list. But Maigret himself had a nasty penchant for persecuting people he suspected of villainy, even where, usually he had no proof, and I decided I fundamentally disliked him. And his method.

Art or literature does not have to be dressed in any special set of clothes and can manifest itself anywhere. That is why it is art in the first place even if it is a detective yarn. A writer needs a medium to explore.


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