I recently re-read the first (1927) and the last (1958) of the Freddy the Pig books, a series about which I’ve written on this blog before. Those tales of the Bean Farm’s talking animals may not be literature as snobs define it, but they are wonderful. It was interesting to see how consistent the books are—and how much I still enjoy them.
Rex Stout once said about a third of his reading was re-reading. I can’t say that, but I do enjoy re-reading favorite books. And yet, that can change.
I still enjoy Stout’s Nero Wolfe books. Ditto Ellery Queen (even when I see their flaws) and Agatha Christie. I blush to admit that I re-read two of my own mystery novels recently and read favorite passages out loud to my long-suffering wife. On the other hand, I find that I have lost my taste for John Dickson Carr.
In the field of detective fiction—if you consider it fiction—surely the most re-readable body of works is the four novels and 56 short stories of the Sherlock Holmes Canon. I’ve been reading them for 60 years, and each time is a delight. For me, that’s the one fixed point in a changing age.
More on Freddy the Pig:
https://bakerstreetbeat.blogspot.com/2013/12/fredddy-gateway-drug.html
https://bakerstreetbeat.blogspot.com/2013/04/holmess-greatest-disciple.html
https://bakerstreetbeat.blogspot.com/2012/04/sherlockian-adventures-of-freddy-pig.html
https://bakerstreetbeat.blogspot.com/2019/04/freddy-and-me-and-baker-street-journal.html
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