I've been re-reading my old books. Among them is the mystery classic, "Tragedy at Law" by Cyril Hare As I read it, the book is disintegrating in my hands. Pages, even whole signatures, are falling out. A pity, because it's a clever, civilized book, an affectionate portrait of life on the legal circuit during World War II.
Cyril Hare was a member of the legal establishment, whose real name I have forgotten and am too lazy to look up. He was a deft and amusing writer in that distinctive and civilized manner of English writers before Britain became a no-place whose main characteristic was a flabby "diversity.".
Since I am now more or less housebound, I considered this a great opportunity to read some of the Great Works of Literature. I took down Beowolf from the shelf. Can't understand its appeal. Likewise The Red and the Black, and as for Ulysses, forget it!
My mind is impervious to improvement.