1980 was my first year at high school. That made me a third former, or “turd” in common parlance.
It was a turbulent year for me, full of highs and lows, including friendships made, none of which have stood the test of time, mostly because I moved away rather than anything more sinister (I have no proof of this.) Of course, I didn’t invent adolescent turmoil, and there was plenty more coming for me in the years ahead, as for most of you, probably.
But 1980, though I remember it clearly, was actually 45 years ago. 45 years before that was 1935, around the time the book I’m currently reading was written and set.
It’s a noirish crime thriller set in the US. It feels very modern, clearly the standard of living in America was high, even so soon after the Great Depression. I’m still early on in the book, but its most notable feature so far is the around the clock drinking. (“Whisky: it’s not just for breakfast, lunch and dinner any more!”)
A contemporary of Dashiell Hammett is the less well known author Jeffrey Farnol. My dad used to read his books as a young man. I read this one last week.
I hadn’t realised it, but this author and Georgette Heyer between them pretty much invented the sub genre of the Regency Romance of historical fiction. While dad was reading these books, my mum was reading Heyer’s books, which are much more popular. I prefer her books, but having read all of them several times over, I was keen to see if I might enjoy Farnol’s books even half as much. This first one was OK, so I’ll keep at it.
What is fascinating to me is that both Heyer and Farnol were writing their novels about a century after the era in which they were set (variously considered to last from 1795 to 1837, although more strictly 1811 to 1820), and now I’m reading their books a century later, a period in which my parents lived their entire lives. OK, it’s not quite as mind blowing as the factlet that Cleopatra lived closer in time to the moon landings than the building of the pyramids, but it’s still amazing.