Today I finished a curious piece of fiction called "The Gumshoe, the Witch, and the Virtual Corpse" by Keith Hartman. It's a variously odd work set in a world where most young gay men are Catholic, where Wiccans have actual supernatural power, and where Native American shamans do as well. This of course gives one a certain idea of the author's political and moral impressions.

That said, it was a decent piece of fiction. The author depicted a bunch of different personality types and political types fairly well. The mystery was sufficiently convoluted to not give it away from the beginning. The use of English was decent. Occasionally the irony was quite amusing. For instance, here is a scene at a police station:

Drew glared at me. “Don't even start with me today,” he growled... I looked up to see Tony Browning walking over to my desk. He was wearing a big cowby hat, and a pair of white boots with fringe, and... nothing in between. OK, OK. I should have known that something was going on right then. I mean, Tony and Drew don’t work for the same precinct.

I have occasionally thought of writing a novel. My command of English is sufficient, but I have often thought that my insight into various types of human beings is not sufficient to pull it off. My life has been much too “Leave it to Beaver.”

Well, when I die I will at least leave behind myself some poetry, some of which is actually good.