That thereís not enough time in the world to read everything you want to is something I am sure that every non-casual reader of this blog knows full well, even if you restrict yourself to mystery, crime and detective fiction Ė- or even only a small nook and cranny of the genre, which maybe you do but I try not do. I like to keep my horizons are wide open as possible, although there are some topics and/or themes at which I draw the line (and about which I will tell you some other time).

   And when you discover a blog dedicated to one of those small nooks and crannies of the genre, chock full of books you never knew about before, much less you’ve ever read any of them, why, itís enough to make a grown man (or woman) cry. Figuratively speaking, of course.

   This is what happened to me this evening. The particular nook is International Noir Fiction, and the link will take you there immediately, if you’re so inclined.

   Iím not sure if Glenn Harper does all of the reviews and commentary, but at a first go-through on my part, it appears that he does. He does one or two posts a week, and going down through the current page, here are the recent objects of his attention:

LEIF DAVIDSEN – Limeís Photograph [Danish emigre living in Spain]

JAMES CHURCH – A Corpse in the Koryo [North Korea]

– The Buenos Aires Quintet [Spanish detective in Argentina]

GENE KERRIGAN – Little Criminals [Ireland]

ŇSA LARSSON – The Blood Split [Sweden]

– A Case of Two Cities [China: Inspector Chen]

– The Uncomfortable Dead [Barcelona detective Pepe Carvalho]

– The Butterfly Effect [Scandinavian sort-of private detective Igi Heitmann]

   All worthy, Iím convinced, of hunting down and reading, if only my bank account didnít have this huge and near-permanent dent in it. I wonít comment on the books themselves, as Glennís read them and I havenít, and heís already done a super job of it. This list essentially covers the month of February, and the monthís not yet over. Oh, as the man said, my.

   A big thanks to the post on The Rap Sheet that J. Kingston Pierce just did along these same lines and which pointed me in Glennís direction. At least I think I should thank him. Maybe heís not forgiven me for confusing his name with that of western fiction writer Frank Richardson Pierce in a recent blog entry of mine, since corrected, and heís getting even. (He also points out Wade Wright, the subject of the preceding entry here on M*F, as an author whose books he’s newly found as worthy of the chase. You and me both, Jeff.)