I returned eight books this week and a clear winner emerged. Dying Flames by Robert Barnard is classified as a mystery, but it's so much more than that.
Narrated by a middle-aged author suffering a bout of nostalgia, he faces his past unsentimentally and with a touch of wry humor. We pity Graham Broadbent as he feels his age, but only slightly. He is remarkably human in all his frailties, especially the lure of youth to the awareness of age. Or maybe that's just the old person in me.
No comments:
Post a Comment