In which I respond to reader mail

It’s been a slow year (not counting the endless carousel of Trumpian atrocities) so maybe it’s time once again to go to the mailbag. Remember mailbags? How they used to bulge? They were fun.

Dear Dave: So what have you been reading lately? That is, assuming you are not yet too old to decipher printed material beyond, say, a third-grade level? – Made-Up in Montreal.

A: Thank you, although I would point out that we live in a country where a third-grade reading level is considered overkill. 

Anyway, I just finished “Fingersmith,” by Sarah Waters. It’s set in Victorian England and involves a 17-year-old thief sent to pose as a maid for a 17-year-old heiress. The thief’s mentor, a charming villain known as Gentleman (think Fagin, only better looking), intends to seduce the heiress, marry her, and then ship her off to one of England’s excellent madhouses. He promises the young thief, Sue, a share of the proceeds.

Twists ensue – so many that this gentle reader had to stop once in a while to keep it all straight. 

What I liked: The period detail, the richness of the prose, the sharply drawn characters, the organizational prowess it must have taken to keep all these plot threads mostly raveled. 

What I didn't like: At 511 pages, it’s too long by about a third. It’s frequently told in the present tense – a pet peeve of mine. Then there are the alternating points of view, which is not a deal-breaker, but it's a device that tends to duplicate large parts of the story, and several scenes weren’t that interesting the first time.

I gave it three stars, which means I finished it, but was also glad to be done with it. That’s not the mark of a modern masterpiece, in my opinion. 

Dear Dave: How about TV then? Or are your sensibilities so refined that you no longer deign to watch? – Spun From Whole Cloth, Cleveland.

A: My sensibilities are indeed refined, to the extent that I refused to join my wife in watching a single episode of “And Just Like That” and only occasionally glanced at “Sister Wives” while looking for my glasses.  But a man gets bored. So I have squandered some of my dwindling time on Earth watching the following:

Alone. Ten contestants are dropped off in a South African desert and try to outlast the others in a grueling trial of diarrhea and despair.  Pass the popcorn! I watch this because my son organized a pool where we bet on who will win, who will cry first, and so forth. My $13 stake vanished in the first three episodes. But it’s still pretty good TV.

Stick. If you think golf is less exciting than curling, I don’t disagree. But the cast, featuring Owen Wilson and Marc Maron, is pretty good and it ended up being less predictable than it first appeared. Nice minor appearance by Timothy Oliphant. Minor crush on Mariana Treviño as the hot mom of the golf prodigy at the center of the story. Dave Bob says check it out.

Department Q.  One thing I love about British TV: the actors all look like people you might actually encounter, instead of the uber-glam dreamboats that populate most American shows. In the first season (it appears there will be another), a ruthless prosecutor has been missing for years.   A traumatized cop assembles a small team of misfits to crack the case. Sounds a bit formulaic, but again: the cast and the writing keep you hitting “next episode.” 

Dear Dave: Anything you hated? – Figment in Philly.

A: Funny you should ask. Yes there are many things I hated and still do. Not least are Trump and his soulless coterie of cosplaying fluffers.

But I sense you mean television. In that area, the thing I hate most is wealth porn, these endless miniseries about glamorous billionaires who live in places like the Hamptons and have Dark Secrets that are utterly trite. Shows like “The Perfect Couple,” and “Sirens” and “We Were Liars” and “Friends and Neighbors.”  Also, of course, “And Just Like That.” Vast affluence is the leading character in all these shows, and I’d rather watch curling.