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How's this for swanky? I've been reading a bunch of Doc Savage novels - pulp action adventure from the thirties and forties, in lovely paperback reprints from the sixties. I found a stack of 'em at work in a "please take these old books for free" box. Each one is about 95 to 110 pages long, full of breathtaking action, incredibly absurd twists, nefarious villains, gadgets galore, and Doc is just such a manly man, too.
There was a completely awful Doc Savage movie back in the Seventies, which fans of the novels repudiate, but which I saw when I was about 12 and really enjoyed at the time. (Later viewing proved that they were right - it's dreadful, though I would still get it if it came out on DVD.)
If you find yourself in a used bookstore, look for one or two of these. They are written by Kenneth Robeson (a ghost name for numerous authors, but the majority of Doc Savage books were written by a guy named Lester Dent - you won't find that name on the cover though. It'll say Kenneth Robeson.) The artwork on the sixties Bantam paperbacks is worth the buck or two it'll cost you. (Beautiful photorealistic paintings by Steve Bama- always featuring Doc bursting brawnily out of his shirt.)
Still in pulpy mode, I am now trying to read the original Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs, but it's rough going. There are some jaw-dropping passages that come off as horribly racist today, and much of the story is hard to swallow, even allowing for the fact that it is a fantasy. For example, Tarzan, without ever meeting another person, learns how to read and write English all by himself, by looking at some books in his parents' old hut. Yeah, that'll happen.
Just so no one thinks I'm all about silly escapism (though I love that) I've also recently read or re-read Nabokov's Pale Fire and Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose - both tricky but rewarding. Next I'm attacking Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves.
But really, check out Doc Savage.
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