I was a voracious reader long before I could even spell voracious.  Books were around long before the discovery of radio and television broadcast, at least out on Poverty Knob.  Dick, Jane and old Spot infected me and I’ve never been strong or able enough to shake the onus.

Frank and Joe Hardy, an intrepid duo of boy sleuths, were my heroes next, and then the Tarzan assemblage became an addiction for me.  Although I now own a TV, a radio and a computer, their capabilities are way beyond my operational expertise, so I wade through better than a hundred publications in a year’s time.

Doc Savage was my idol when the pulp magazines were the rage during the 30s and 40s, and they commanded my rapt attention and admiration.  Known as the Man of Bronze he was a physician, surgeon, scientist, adventurer, inventor, explorer, researcher and a musician.  He had more facets than the Hope Diamond, and he didn’t cotton to evil-doers on any part of the planet.  The Doc Savage magazine ran from March 1933 until the summer of 1949, at which time he must have gone on Social Security.  Or, Mike Hammer may have begun to throw a big shadow in 1947.

Mike swung into operation, and he was on the front line through 1996.  He was a tough customer, and when he ended a case the bad guy, or gal, were deceased and not eligible for a court appearance.  Mike was judge, jury and executioner for any bad egg that caused a ruckus.  He had contempt for manmade laws that slowed justice and smoked Luckies without any filtration.  He referred to the pack of smokes as a deck.  The Mike Hammer novels were written in the first person by Mickey Spillane, and apparently Mickey was an alter-ego of Mike.  It’s not a verifiable fact, but Dirty Harry may have been a clone.

Then, a dry spell of “an eye for an eye” detectives took center stage, and the loyal consumers of blood and gore ascended to the throne.  Their exploits are available on television for viewers who are not all that swept up with Oprah and Martha.  Reruns of Law and Order, when Lenny had the forked end down, are now common fare on several networks, but once you memorize the dialogs they lose a lot of their charm.  For the past decade accounts of the caveman ilk of crime fighters have been a tad lackluster for mavens of he-man crusaders who oppose the lobe wolf enforcer of proper behavior.

John Grisham, Nelson DeMille and James Lee Burke paraded across my dozing pillow as I bided my time.

A master plotter and yarn spinner, Lee Child, unleashed Jack Reacher upon the reading public and a new high water mark was established.

I will go no further than that, but I challenge you to read just one of the eleven Lee Child has created.  If his story don’t grab you in the first paragraph I’ll buy the coffee.

The debut title is “Killing Floor”, if you’re set on beginning at the beginning.

Tally Ho and Bon Voyage!

Let me hear from you.

My phone number is 254-893-5063.

My postal address is 333 W. Ayers, De Leon TX 76444.

You can e-mail me at Charles@CharlesChupp.com.