Happily Backward

It may be a sign of the times that, lately, I've been immersing myself in the 1940s and 1950s. I've long been a fan of singers from that era -- Doris Day, Peggy Lee -- but nowadays I find myself choosing to watch 1940s movies, read 1940s books, and otherwise transport myself to the mid-20th century.

As a rule, I'm not inclined to sigh nostalgically over a bygone era -- especially one that I didn't personally experience. If these forays into vintage pop culture are soothing in many ways, they can certainly be disturbing in others. I recently read a vintage mystery (fresh off the 25-cent rack at my local used bookstore) that was well-written and, for the most part, enjoyable. But the author's casual racism pervaded the story. Even allowing for the way social attitudes change over time, I found it distasteful enough to conclude that, in some cases, the past may be better left in the past.

But research for my two most recent book projects has led me to find real enjoyment in some of the most unassuming, escapist B movies. There's something to be said for films in which the world is put right in 70 minutes or less, thanks to the best efforts of good people. I'll just leave it at that.