I am currently reading Micheal Connolly's City of Bones. It is a detective pulp paperback novel. My parents gave me a copy to read. I had to admit that I was initially skeptical about reading it at all. It wasn't going to satisfy and of the leanings toward literary snobishness I would prefer my reading list to take. When the Rushdie ran out, I had little else to choose from apart from books about starting your own business which seemed like too much effort for reading in the late evening.
I have to admit that I have a soft spot for this sort of thing. It has that typical detective character: worn out by the system, good at his job, a lot of enemies in the department, doesn't always do things 'by the book'. It's not noir, but I keep expecting to hear some sort of world weary narrative. I'm one of the few people I know that prefer the original cut of Bladerunner, just for the voiceover (I admit the ending is crap in that version).
This book is entirely forgettable, but it is a guilty pleasure, like watching the latest hollywood release at the cinema. You know it's not really doing anything for the development of your mind, but it's fun.
