The Mammoth book of Roaring Twenties Whodunnits

Can’t think of what to write. Wrote about two little paragraphs after wracking my brains for two solid hours and then forgot to save them before shutting off my comp. So, now I begin from scratch again. I remember I wrote something about a ‘writer’s block’ in the post the first time and thought it was a really clever sentence but try as I do I just can’t recall it anymore. Its like those great – floating – in – a -pink – cloud of – happiness – dream that you just can’t recall when you wake up.

Its raining.

I have been reading too much. Fiction.

Reading too much for the past three years.

Too many words in my head but can’t recall one to win a lousy game of online scrabble.

So, this post is about a book. The mammoth book of Roaring Twenties Whodunnits. I picked it up for a re-read after a few years of its first airing. I don’t know why I wasn’t paying attention the first time round because I didn’t remember a single story from the whole book. This time I am more serious about it and I realise that the stories are not so much of “whodunnits” as “commentaries on the lifestyle of the young in the twenties”. They only seem to be drinking and sleeping around and commiting murders and getting away with them in most cases.

Stuck again.

Okay, did I like it? So-So. They aren’t really great works of art and you can’t really pass them off as classics but they are alright to read once, just so you can tell people that you read it. But not if you have to pay for it.

Can’t make it anymore intelligent than that.

Check for apelling mistakes and grammatical errors yourself.

Its just one of those days I think.


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