And, yes: I’m guilty. The person who lives there has seen me through thick and thin (and cliched and cleverly phrased). So I sent him the masterpiece, the one in which Sayers transcended the murder mystery genre, and indisputably did something truly special, a la Faulkner in Intruder in the Dust.
Though I’m not the one who sent him these. They are amazing, though: whichever of his gal-pals did it hit a home run. When I was in B-More I tended to flatten those things into a sort of metallic fabric. They were awesome. Here:
So. Buy some books; just because I don’t let myself read fiction is no reason for you to miss out.