Back in March, I was signed off sick from my desk based role…. The strain of constantly trying to keep my head straight had got too much and an invitation to sit at a PC was akin to being invited to a session in a well equipped torture chamber.
After staring out of the window for a week wondering what on earth I was going to do, I decided to start reading Raymond Chandler’s books. I’d read them all before, a long time ago and a re-perusal seemed in order. Glad I did. Awesome writing. Slick, well crafted phrases underpinned with wit and pace. Very nice.
Sadly, I reached the end of Mr Chandler, so after another week of staring out of the window, I moved on to Dashiel Hammett. Not bad, but like drinking hooch after fine wine – no subtlety. Apologies to any fans out there, but the body count in Red Harvest? What was he thinking?
As the pain level’s dropped, my brain seems to be working better, so I’ve now moved on to Ibsen’s plays, with some good, old fashioned inter-war adventure stories as light relief. Who knows, maybe a spell of writing poor literary criticism might stimulate something in my head to compensate for the havoc that dystonia creates. Here’s hoping.