I do read books, but I never yet got any real satisfaction out of one; I always have a feeling there’s nothing alive about it, it’s all dead and gone, what’s the use, you might as well try to enjoy yourself on a picnic in a graveyard.
~ Chapter 1 (Archie Goodwin)
It’s tough to tell if Rex Stout is having fun with his characters and being ironic, or something else. I can’t imagine any other reason, but then, I can’t imagine anyone thinking they can make an actual living from writing books either. A Mystery, in a mystery book no less! (for the record, that was me being ironic)