I do not have an extensive library, having left most of my books at home in one of the many flimsy Midwestern namesakes of the ancient capital of the Peloponnese. Most of the books that I do in fact have with me are kept in a bin in the trunk of my expensive German car to keep my expensive German rump from sliding off these Midwestern roads when frozen precipitation occurs. My patronage of the public library in the other Midwestern town named for a Greek hero in which I live is extensive, but irregular. I therefore keep the most utterly necessary books in my house. This includes 1 of my hymnals, 1 of my bibles, a book of theology on the Psalms, the music I am currently studying and Dorothy L. Sayers’s Murder Must Advertise.
Say I get home after a long day and have no attention for a new plot, but want to smile. Say again that it is cold and I need something to read in my bubble bath. Or rather, say that I’m bored. It happens, you know.
I prowl around my house looking for something to satisfy this nebulous series of feelings with out dependent thought. I trip on my cat, and shake my head at the mess. I look out the window and see MORE clouds. I open the fridge. WHAT is that SMELL???? I consider laundry, and then reject it. AH HA!!! Murder. Must. Advertise.
My battered copy is always close to hand. I love the sharp wit and invariably beautiful manners displayed by Lord Peter. I live for the subtle puns and the quick moving wit. I like Mr. Ingleby and his nonchalance and flippancy. I like Mr. Pym, with his shocked Victorian senses. I even like the murderer. Interesting….
But I read this book to turn a hard slow day around. To break the monotony (so full of o, in itself monotonous.). To be impressed by Lord Peter as he dives off a fountain. To laugh at the copy writers and their terrible advertisements for Nutrax and for Margarine. It makes me happy, happy, happy!