The Literate Kitty

Ask anyone who their favorite fictional private eye is, and you’ll find you’ve cast a pretty wide net—granted, one in which some of the same, bigger, fish show up again and again—but ask for their favorite detecting duo , and the resulting catch will likely be noticeably smaller. [Not that the latter won’t also include some repeats; great writing and plotting, as in blood, will always out.] Me? Honestly, for my all-time faves, I’m torn between a couple of dynamic, modern duos [which sounds way too superhero-y for this particular discussion, but here we are]: Lynley and Havers (from the mighty pen of Elizabeth George), and Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling)’s Strike and Robin. [Yes, I know, I know . Technically, I should call her “Ellacott”, because a) “and Robin” also skews way too superhero-y, and b) going with last names would be tidier, but… to me, she’s Robin, because she feels more like a good friend. <insert shrugging emoticon here>] So, now that I finally got around t...

"They say it’s always darkest before the dawn. If so--and if you happen to find yourself in a tunnel--you’d better damn well hope there’s a glimmer of light shining down at the end of it."     Cormoran Strike is stuck in one of those abominable cycles—the kind where nothing goes right.  After losing part of his leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, he returned home to heal and figure out what to do next... which turned out to be putting the skills learned in the military police to practical use by setting up shop as a private investigator.  It’s something he happens to be really good at; problem is, business has been scarce, and is now down to a single client... which doesn’t come close to paying the bills (not even for his tiny, very modest London work digs).  But that’s not the end of his troubles; the icing on Strike’s unhappiness cake is that he’s just broken up with his longtime girlfriend... effectively leaving him homeless, forced to sleep in ...

Say what you will about Mr. Rogers* (yeah, I giggled plenty at those ghastly cardigans and nerdy lace-up shoes of his, too), but the man knew something about being neighborly. To him, it had nothing to do with what you wore (teehee), drove, or did for a living; it meant being friendly and nice to the people next door or down the street... waving and stopping to chat, making the effort to learn pets’ and people’s names, even having a cup of sugar at the ready to lend during baking emergencies.  Things have changed a lot since Mr. Rogers first went on TV showing good little boys and girls around his perfect neighborhood, though. We pick up stakes and move (often, before we’ve even met those who live on either side of us); we keep odd hours (not exactly conducive to friendly coffee klatches); and, while technology has given us the ability to interact with people all around the globe... it has also pretty much done away with the desire for all but the most strictly-necessary c...