What to Read (part 2)

Having finished my four precious books, I'm now lost without a compass, rudderless so to speak. Quo Vadis or "whither goeth uth" Robert Taylor was heard to say. For a while I was comfortably lost in the profound musings of Lee Matalone; and sharply on edge with William Trent Pancoast's inside story of the American dream or night-mare, as it were. And I could come alive with the in yer face challenges and philosophical groundbreaking in Thomas Chatterton William's powerful words, or bask in the warm glow of Tony O'Neill's familiar and most welcome irreverance for all things sham and tawdry. 

In other words, was nice while it lasted. And I managed to write some dandy reviews of those great books - short, pithy, and brilliant - was how I described them to myself. 
(If you're wondering - I was writing like Ridgwell before Ridgwell was; just as Fante was writing like Kerouac before Kerouac). So it's only a matter of great minds using great words, nothing more. Or plagiarism, call it what you like. 

So what's to do now and where to go? Looking all over for my copy of John Addams by David McCullough which a lifelong friend from the unemployment office gave me as I left the working force for good. I think it was for good anyway. Well, beats working all to hell. But I can't find it anywhere. Had to clean the hallway and get rid of all the coloring books and children's books and little kid stuff that somebody (Cathy) had dumped on my make-do book stand. Wasn't there but good to get rid of that stuff anyway.

So...I venture upstairs. Into the great wide open, the vast unknown and undusted fer awhile. Got all these big grocery store paper bags full of my dad's old books, out in the hallway. I'd cleaned his apartment a few years after his death. And it wasn't something I was eager to start on cuz that whole time frame left me shaken to the core. Still does. But there before me sits a treasure trove of stuff you can't throw away but got no place to put. I shake the cobwebs off'n a few of 'em and check to see what's there. 

Books about baseball and Babe Ruth, that was my dad's hero. He was trying to sell a story 'bout Babe to Ken Tate, before he died. My dad that is, don't know if Tate's still alive or not. And there's Grisham and Ludlow and John O'Hara and Clockers by Richard Price. My dad liked that, and I think it was a forerunner to The Wire which Steve Finbow really liked. Without a TV, Finbow came across tapes of the show and was binge watchin - years later.

Anyway, lot of stuff to sort through. I start with Grisham's The Partner as it's paperback and shorter than the others. And geez "they found him." No shit. They found him on all subsequent paragraphs. And into page two, they's still finding him. Damn Johnny, oughtta try varying yer words a bit, gets redundant. I get it - he's done been found. So...on to something else. Now this looks interesting - Wild Bill Donovan, the last hero. About the origins of the OSS and CIA by the guy who done originated 'em. Yeah, I can get into that.

Hmm...discarded by the local library. Hope they got a current copy...or got a better book than this one. Be a shame to thow out all this knowledge due to oversight or ignorance. Now wouldn't it?