Superficiality? That’s why TV was invented. Fiction is another matter
Wednesday, October 26th, 2005My admiration for Charlton Heston is enormous—the actor, the activist, the man—and so I find it almost impossible to watch the last few of his movies I haven’t yet seen, such as The President’s Lady, Antony and Cleopatra, The War Lord, and Khartoum. Thinking about why this might be so brings to mind a conversation I had several months back with a librarian. I was lamenting the premature demise of James Clavell, and that there were no more of his novels left to read for the first time. She suggested I find an author who wrote in a similar manner, but that struck me as an unappealing solution. I wasn’t searching for a substitute. Instead, I yearned for a contemporary writer with an entirely different style to enjoy every bit as much, who would connect with me in a compelling and exceptional way. Have I now found that person? As I get deeper into
The Forger by Paul Watkins, I find myself wanting to read everything he’s written. I suppose that’s a reasonably good sign I have…