memelaina | Two Decades of Dick Francis

A couple of weeks ago, I picked up two Dick Francis novels on CD at the library. They were sitting there on the shelf next to each other, and as I find Dick Francis especially good for listening to in the car, I checked them out. The first was IN THE FRAME - a novel that actually begins with a murder in England and moves on to action in Australia and New Zealand. Having just gotten back from Australia a couple months ago, I found it especially interesting. The second was 10 POUND PENALTY and it had as a background, in addition to racing, an election in Britain. Listening to it during our own election season left me with a feeling that the Brits are ever so much more civilized about these things. Both books were enjoyable - enough so that I would often sit a few minutes in parking lot or driveway listening to the end of a chapter before turning off the car.

When I went to enter them on my book list, I noticed that IN THE FRAME was written in 1976 - eight years before my first trip to Australia - and that 10 POUND PENALTY was written in 1997. The books were written 20 years apart. And the most recent was already more than a decade old. But the thing that struck me was that neither felt in the least dated. Technology, or the lack thereof, didn't intrude on the story in the least. With both I was immediately swept into the story and into the characters and it could have taken place at any time in the 'modern' world - i.e. there were planes and trains and cars and telephones, an electronic security system and somewhere in the background, some computers. These, however, were as much a part of the setting as frying eggs in the kitchen or opening the 'fridge for a beer. They had absolutely no effect on the stories, and the stories themselves were engrossing.

I've been reading my way through Francis, slowly, since

threeringedmoon introduced me to his novels about thirty years ago. In the last five years, I've made a list and actually looked out the ones I've missed. I still have about a dozen of his forty-three novels yet to go, and I'm in no real hurry because, sad to say, there will be no more.