Prize-winning critic Michael Dirda took your questions and comments concerning literature, books and the joys of reading.

Each week Michael Dirda's name appears -- in attractively large type -- in The Post's Book World section, where he writes about new novels, neglected classics, fat biographies, European literature, fantasy, science fiction, thrillers, poetry, works of scholarship, the occasional children's book, almost anything under the rubric of "arts and letters." Although he earned a Ph.D. in comparative literature from Cornell, Dirda has somehow managed to retain, well into middle age, a myopic 12-year-old's exuberant passion for reading.

As he has for the past 40 years, Dirda says he still spends inordinate amounts of time mourning his lost youth, listening to music (classical, jazz, oldies, country and western), and daydreaming ("my only real hobby"). He claims that the happiest hours of his week are spent sitting in front of a computer, writing. His most recent books include "Readings: Essays and Literary Entertainments" (Indiana hardcover, 2000; Norton paperback, 2003), his self-portrait of the reader as a young man, "An Open Book" (Norton, 2003) and a collection of his essays and reviews titled "Bound to Please" (Norton, 2005) Last year he brought out "Book by Book: Notes on Reading and Life" (Henry Holt, 2006) and this fall Harcourt will publish "Classics for Pleasure."

Dirda joined The Post in 1978, having grown up in the working-class steel town of Lorain, Ohio and graduated with highest honors in English from Oberlin College. His favorite writers are Stendhal, Chekhov, Jane Austen, Montaigne, Evelyn Waugh, T.S. Eliot, Nabokov, John Dickson Carr, Joseph Mitchell, P.G. Wodehouse and Jack Vance. He thinks the greatest novel of all time is either Murasaki Shikubu's "The Tale of Genji" or Proust's "A la recherche du temps perdu." In a just world he would own Watteau's painting "The Embarkation for Cythera." Dirda is a member of several literary associations, including the Baker Street Irregulars and The Ghost Story Society. Despite a penchant for quiet and solitude, he enjoys giving talks, teaching, and traveling. People tell him that he can be pretty funny for a guy who usually has his nose in a book.

(He also thinks he can be pretty funny at times...)

An archive of his reviews is available here.

An archive of his discussions is available here.

Dirda was online Wednesday, March 26, at 2 p.m.

A transcript follows.

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Michael Dirda: Welcome to Dirda on Books! Or perhaps, for a change, that should be Dirda on Books welcomes you! At all events, we have finally a true spring-like day here in Silver Spring. Of course, there may have been several over the past two weeks while I was away in grim, blizzardy, wet Ohio. But now I"m back, with much to do. My time in Ohio was fun, for the most part, though at the end it was full of work and a long drive and much else.

Okay. Let's look at this week's questions.

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Carrboro, N.C.: In the early '90s, I read Richard Condon's then-new "The Final Addiction" and was hooked. I've since read all his books... and I have a sneaking suspicion that, since his death, he's been writing the script for real life. (The Bush administration seems ripped straight from the pages of a Condon novel.)

Are there any current writers you would recommend to appeal to the sensibilities of a Condon fan?

Michael Dirda: Richard Condon! There's an instance of what one might call high professinalism--good, sardonic novels about contemporary mores: The Manchurian Candidate, The Vertial Smile, Prizzi's Honor.

Who writes in this slot today? Perhaps some of Christopher Buckley's novels might fit the bill. Anyone else have a suggestion or two? We've still got most of an hour ahead of us.

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New Lenox, Ill.: Thanks to your review here, I finally read my copy of "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe. One of the characters, Obierika, says: "The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart."

Northrop Frye said that, "The desire to persecute has its origin, not in zeal, but in the deification of some human form of understanding: its root is not "You must believe in God," but "You must believe in what I mean by God."

Question: What is your opinion of Christian missionaries?

Michael Dirda: The lead up to this reminds me of some sort of trial scene. One never quite knows what the question is going to be.

At Oberlin the most significant monument on capus is the Memorial Arch, commemmorating Oberlin missionaries who were killed during the Boxer Rebellion.

My general view of missionaries is that they are, from what I know of memoirs and histories, an often admirable group of people. Some are zealots, some genuinely interested in foreign cultures. But in general I do tend to follow Star Trek's Prime Directive: Don't interfere with the indigenous culture.

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Reston, Va.: Good afternoon, Michael--

I'm working my way through the various takes on the Arthur mythos -- Malory, Tennyson, Stewart, Steinbeck, Bradley, Cornwell, etc. Any particular thoughts on any of these? Have I missed any? And are there any good commentaries I should get my hands on?

Thanks, as always!

Michael Dirda: What a neat project! You've listen all that come to my mind, apart from T.H. White, which I suspect you simply left off. That is, except for the medieval texts: Chretien de Troyes, Gottfriend von Strassburg, Wolfram von Eschenbach. There's also bits and pieces about Arthur in things like Layamon's Brut and Geoffrey of Monmouth.

As for scholarship: Roger S. Loomis (sometimes with his wife whose name escapes me) is the primary figure in ARthurian studies, with many books and guides. He should lead you to a good deal of commentary. AMong contemporaries there are books by Ashe and Barber that might prove of value, but I don't really know them.

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Fredericksburg, Tex.: Have you read any of Friedrich Durrenmatt's fiction (or seen any of his plays produced)?

Michael Dirda: I've read, in German class, some of both. I remember "The Visit" and "Andorra," but only in the vaguest way. Somewhere in this house are a couple of his novels, supposed to be like detective stories, but with psychological and political overtones. Do you like his work? Tell us more about it.

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Western Writers: A few weeks ago, a poster asked about traditional western writers. I happened to be at my father's house last week--he collects first editions of classic Southwestern writers. Here's some of the authors I noticed on his shelves (fiction and nonfiction):

Paul Horgan (The Great River, The Peach Stone)

Ruth Laughlin (The Wind Leaves No Shadow)

Harvey Fergesson (The Conquest of Don Pedro)

Richard Bradford (Red Sky At Morning, So Close to Heaven)

Oliver La Farge (The Man with the Calabash Pipe)

Ruldolfo Anaya (Bless Me, Ultima; and others)

John Nichols (The Milagro Beanfield War, and others)

I could go on, but I'll stop there. It's a great genre.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks. Those are familiar names and I should have remembered HOrgan, who also wrote books about the Rio Grande and Lamy of Santa Fe. A couple of decades ago we used to correspond, mostly about the very literary letters of Rupert Hart Davis and George Lyttelton.

There's one other author and book who come to mind: Frank Waters's The Man Who Killed the Deer.

In truth, though, it's a genre I hardly know. Somehow westerns in my mind have always meant movies. With a couple of exceptions. I do think the world of Little Big Man, especially.

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Star Trek's Prime Directive: Don't interfere with the indigenous culture.: Wisdom from Star Trek. I love it!

Michael Dirda: You're welcome.

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DC: Have you read "The Sparrow"? While I am thoroughly enjoying the story, the actual writing itself seems amateurish...as if Ms. Russell is trying too hard to instill perfect wit and wisdom into all of her characters. How often do you find yourself in this position: loving a story, but disliking the way the author has written it? Thank you.

Michael Dirda: For me the style is ususally the most compelling aspect of a book. I find it hard, sometimes, to overlook clunky writing. It was put me off The Da Vinci Code when I had orignally thought to review it.

Even some writers who take drubbings for their style--Zola, Dreiser, Philip K. Dick--actually seem really good writers to me. The prose seems to carry such force and conviction that I overlook a few solecisms and bumps.

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Lenexa, Kan.: I thought your essay on George Meredith in "Classics for Pleasure" was very moving and insightful. Your Yeats reference seemed perfect. It was fun to learn that Meredith was for a time married to a daughter of Thomas Love Peacock. I read where Meredith sat as the model for Henry Wallis's famous painting: "The Death of Chatterton." It made me wonder how handsome Meredith might have been--although the artist may have had another motive. Do you know what occurred the year after the portrait sitting? Thanks as always.

Michael Dirda: No idea what happened after the portrait. I do know that Meredith, in old age, was often described as handsome--and indeed in my mind's eye I do seem to call up a very poetical old man.

The essay, by the way, on George Meredith was focused not on his novels but on his book-length poem "Modern Love," the story of the breakup of a marriage told in sixteen line "sonnets." "Oh what a dusty answer gets the soul/when hot for certainties in this out life."

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Brookland, DC: To the reader who has requested Holocaust-related literature in the last two discussions: how about Jiri Weil's "Mendelssohn Is on the Roof"? Weil, himself a Prague Jew who managed to elude the Holocaust, tells the story of occupied Prague's Jews through a series of interlocking narratives.

A couple of the stories revolve around a special role that Hitler had in mind for Prague. Its ancient Jewish Quarter exists to this day only because the Nazis intended to use it as a museum of an extinct race. Most of the wealth of Central Europe's Jews was sent to Prague and carefully catalogued by Jewish prisoners before they were "shipped East."

The narrative from which the novel's title comes is actually quite funny. Two Czech workmen are sent to the roof of the Opera House to take down the statue of Mendelssohn, a Jew, on the orders of the Nazi occupiers. Neither one knows which statue is of Mendelssohn, so leaning on the propoganda of the day, they decide to take down the one with the biggest nose: Wagner.

Michael Dirda: I remember the Weil book--wasn't it part of PHilip Roth's "Writers from Another Europe" series? Maybe not. But you certainly make Mendelssohn is on the Roof sound appealing. I must dig out my old teacher Mathis Szykowski's Holocaust reading list. He gave it to me on this recent visit to Oberlin. His own memoir is something to look for. It'll come out from Dorrance later in the year, since regular publishers seemed uninterested and Mathis is getting on in years, so couldn't wait any longer.

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WpgManCDA: Dear Mr. Dirda,

Let me confess up front that I'm not a big poetry fan and that the poetry I do like (e.g., "Abou Ben Adem", Ogden Nash, "The Road Not Taken") would probably be scorned by "true" poetry lovers. I've just read "Evangeline", and while I liked the fact that it seemed to actually BE poetry, as opposed to weird prose divided up into lines, I think I'd sooner be exposed to Vogon poetry than read something similar again. Is there something wrong with me?

Michael Dirda: Ah, Vogon poetry--the worst torture in the universe (see The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy).

But, don't panic. You might still like poetry if you tried the right kind.

There's a book called something like The ONe Hundred Most Popular Poems--it starts with Blake's The Tyger. I think the editor might be William Harmon. At all events, these are poems you will likely enjoy. Along with this, you might look for two Dover paperbacks edited by Martin Gardner: Best REmembered Poems and another with a similar title. These are the poems that people used to recite at church socials and national holidays up until the advent of radio and television: Casey at the Bat is one, but there are many others: The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck; Excelsior; and many others less well known except for one or two lines--"Time in is Flight"--and a rousing rhythm and story.

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Too-Tall Boo KS: Have you ever commented on the new trend in mass market paperbacks? Most PBs now are about one and a half inches taller than older "standard size" paperbacks, and the typical price is about $2 more than regular paperbacks. And some of the country's richest writers -- Stephen King, Richard Patterson -- are among the authors gouging out these few extra dollars from their fans.

Michael Dirda: I suspect that it's the publishers doing the gouging. But really I hadn't quite noticed this. For me, the perfect paperbacks were the old Signet Classics of the 1960s. Creamy white cover stock, nice printing, excellent introductions and afterwords, brief biographies, and a reasonable price. Dell was also pretty good.

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Washington, DC: On Durrenmatt: I read a pair of short novels (novellas?) published as The Inspector Barlach Mysteries. These are very, very good. Just as you describe, detective stories with more than a hint of philosophy and psychology. A lot darker than most of what I read published here.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks. I think Godine published those books as Godine Doubles or something.

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Pittsburgh: I'm going to Portugal later this year, where I hope to buy some books, though more than I can reasonably fit in my luggage since I want to restrict myself to carry-on (thus avoiding having to check a bag, as per advice from the Post's Flight Crew experts). Any advice re shipping a box of books back from Europe without bankrupting myself?

Michael Dirda: Can't really say since I haven't done this in a while. When I returned from a year in France--several decades ago--I bought a kind of gigantic mailbag that I was permitted to fill up with whatever I wanted and that seemed the cheapest mode available.

Personally, I'd check the bag. Carry on all the valuable books and personal items; put everything that you can easily replace in the checked suitcase or suitcases.

But others, in Europe now, may have some more pertinent advice.

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Lenexa, Kan.: Meredith's wife at the time (the Peacock daughter) ran off with the artist the following year. Speaking of Chatterton, how affected are you about the sad tale of the young promising boy? James Michener in his late-in-life "Literary Reflections" (a book I love) said that he tried several times to write a verse drama of Chatterton--that the ghost of the boy "never completely left me."

Michael Dirda:"I think of Chatterton, the marvelous boy" "We poets in our youth begin in gladness, but in the end comes despondency and madness." Something like that.

There's a good account of Chatterton by Richard Holmes--I think it's in one of his books of biographical profiles.

Alfred Vigny wrote a fine play in French called "Chatterton."

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Woodlawn, VA: My thanks to "Western Writers" for his/her list of westerns. (I was the one who asked for recommendations a few weeks ago.) I second his and your endorsement of Paul Horgan. I read Horgan's "A Distant Trumpet" some years ago and remember that, despite some of the stereotypes -- dutiful and principled military men, selfless wives, noble savages (can I say that?) -- he manages through graceful prose and a first-rate story to deliver a wonderful novel.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks.

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Carpooling Mom: I think I have found a new subgenre of literature, "Carpool Line Lit." I am spending more and more of my time shuttling my offspring to a variety of activities. And while I consider myself a good mom there is only so much soccer practice one can endure. I am needing books that can be easily read in short spurts, with many interruptions. Something that can be waiting in the glove box of the car for when the party runs late, the game is delayed etc. Any ideas?

Michael Dirda: Well, I've always liked books of quotations and aphorisms, collections of letters or poems. Consider things like The Oxford Book of BLANK--Aphorisms, Love, Death, Food, Travel, etc etc. Most of the entries are at most a few pages, and they are very fine. THinks like Auden's A Certain World or my own Book by Book are also built up on short passages and reflections. Journals and diaries might do as well.

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the Arthur mythos : Right now I'm reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Does this qualify for the list?

Michael Dirda: Sure does.

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Haruki Murakami: Seems to have the exact opposite problem... his stories make absolutely zero sense, but he writes them so well one hardly cares.

Michael Dirda: Good point.

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King Arthur: Are you including satire in your Arthurian reading quest? If so, don't miss Thomas Berger's take on Camelot.

Michael Dirda: Another good suggestion: It's called Arthur Rex. ANd it reminds me, too, of Donald Barthelme's last book, the very funny The King. Not great Barthelme but still amusing and a quick read.

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WpgManCDA: Dear Mr. Dirda,

I just submitted a post moments ago, but I'm back again because someone asked about Friedrich Duerrenmatt. I started learning German about 30 years ago and he was one of the first German-language writers I discovered. (He's Swiss.) I've read a lot of his work and enjoyed it immensely. "Der Richter und sein Henker" -"The Judge and his Executioner"], "Der Verdacht" -"Suspicion"], and "Das Versprechen" -"The Promise"] are all excellent crime novels and psychological studies (as I think you remarked). "Grieche sucht Griechen" -"Greek Man Seeks Greek Woman"] is an excellent comic novel, and I've enjoyed reading many of his plays as well. He also wrote some excellent short stories.

I don't know whether all of his books have been translated into English (and the English titles I've given are off-the-top-of-my-head translations), but I highly recommend him. (My sister likes him, too.)

Michael Dirda: Many thanks. Perhaps we'll start a Durrenmatt revival.

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Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus: I'd suggest your Arthurian reader pick up a copy of "The Arthurian Handbook" by Norris J. Lacy. It'll lead him or her to the writers you mention and much, much else. It's out of print but easy to find on-line.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks. I think I have that book myself.

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Bethesda, MD: Is the Mark Twain approach to King Arthur worth mentioning? I haven't read it, myself, but it's there. Is it too lightweight (both in terms of Arthur and Twain)?

Michael Dirda: A Connecticut Yankee is funny, yet a little crude and less imaginative than it initally starts off.

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Freising, Germany: I once read somewhere from a well known writer (whose name I can't remember) the opinion that language doesn't just define culture, but rather, language is culture. These days, when being put through the paces at work or in private situations, I've come to think of my reaction as "Kaemfing", which is a bastardization of the German word for fighting: Kaempfen (K¿mpfen).

In the German language and culture, life is thought to be a fight (das Leben ist ein Kampf) and when a person dies, you'll hear many times over at their funeral that the fight is over (das Kampf ist vorbei). Hence, the most infamous title in all of German literature, "Mein Kampf", deals with not only Hitler's fight, but also his life's ideals.

This direct association between life and fighting doesn't really exist in the English language, I think. Nelson Mandela's fight was expressed as, "Long Walk to Freedom". When I searched on the internet for books about "My Fight", I found titles such as, "My Fight for Irish Freedom", "My Fight Against Anti-Semitism" and "My Fight for Whales and Seals", which are about specific battles and not the raison d'etre.

I've often heard the phrase in English that life is a struggle, but that seems to be different than a fight (reactive versus active). Are there English language classics out there that perceive life as a fight? D.H. Lawrence was married to a German woman, but his class struggles seem to be struggles rather then fights.

Michael Dirda: WEll, Mein Kampf is sometimes translated as "My Struggle"--certainly that's the way I always heard it referred to in English.

Certainly much Christian allegorical literature sees life as a fight between the forces of good and evil, light and dark. One must fight against the wiles and temptations of Satan or this world. There are poems about this conflict called psychomachias (including a famous one by Prudentius). I think many people see life as a kind of fight or battle. THink of titles like Hemingway's The Undefeated. Or agree with Macbeth's rousing last words: "Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane and thou opposed being of no woman born, yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on Macduff and damned by him who first cries Hold Enough." Pardon the lack of line breaks. But that cry "Yet I will try the last" even though no possible hope really remains certainly embodies the human struggle against time, fate and death.

I myself often go around with a hangdog, defeated look--very James Thurberish.

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Mendelssohn Is on the Roof: The translation I read was part of the Jewish Lives Series by Northwestern University Press. I know, however, that there were previous translations.

Michael Dirda: Many thanks.

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Chevy Chase, MD: Comments on Arthur C. Clarke:

He developed the concept of communications satellites years before they were developed by the space program. He studied the Great Barrier Reef near Sri Lanka where he lived and the Indian Ocean. He had a bachelor of science degree in physics and mathematics. He wanted to most be remembered as a writer. During his last years his mail was being gone through and phone calls were constantly being monitored. This was reported by Richard Hoagland.

Michael Dirda: Well, he was accused of pederasty, hence the monitoring. My sense is that these charges were eventually dropped or found without merit, but they did cloud Clarke's last years.

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DC: Speaking of Haruki Murakami, I think the letters within "Wind Up Bird Chronicle" from Lt. Mamiya to Toru Okada is some of the best, most interesting writing I've seen. I'm hoping Murakami develops a novel based around that character alone.

Michael Dirda: Okay. We'll see.

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New York, NY: What do you know about the Australian writer Tim Winton? What's a good book from him to check out? Thanks.

Michael Dirda: My friend Elizabeth Ward, who is from Australia, is a great fan of Winton's work. One of his novels--and it's his best known too--was made into an extremely long stage play that showed here in Washington. Oh, what was that title? The Riders , The Somethings, . . . . Sigh. The title escapes me. But that's the book I'd start with.

WHich is a pretty lame sounding recommendation, I admit.

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To the non-poetry person; Knoxville, Tenn.: For the person who doesn't like prose chopped up into funny lines, and considers him/herself not a poetry person - I've found myself in a similar place until rather recently. I think the difficulty is that poetry is so heavily dependent upon meter, and a lot of the free-verse stuff has such subtle meter that it seems to be nonexistant; also, a certain kind of poet values the texture of the poem (word use) over communicating content. I've learned to appreciate all of this, but previously found it irritating.

Amazing poets still exist, though, that do use meter and communicate images through words "like glass." These I've adored always: Robert Frost, Yeats, Seamus Heaney (especially the latter). I know they're all terribly obvious, but I think you'd like them. And NO poetry lover could despise any of them.

Further advice: get a collection of one of these authors, sit down, and read it for at least an hour. Sometimes it takes a bit to fall into a particular poet's rhythm - as in dancing.

Michael Dirda: Good advice--though I think one should also just read poems as if they were the newspaper. Those that strike your heart or imagination you go back to, linger over, reread. Too much reverence kills the reading of poetry.

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Michael Dirda: Well, I seem to have gleaned your teeming brains this week, and actually answered all the posted questions and comments. So now I will return you to your real lives while I go back to work on my own projects. Sigh. It is a nice day. Makes me wish I were 17 again. But of course spring makes everyone feel that way.

Till next Wednesday at 2, keep reading!

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Rockville, MD: Mr Dirda,

Just as an earlier poster is reading through the various interpretations of the Arthurian legend, I've recently taken an interest in the character of Don Juan and am thinking of reading the various plays and Byron's epic work. Have you read Byron's Don Juan and if so, what did you think of it? I've heard that Byron's work requires a bit of courage on the part of the uninitiated reader.

Michael Dirda: One last question crept in: Byron's Don Juan is wonderful--it's witty, full of action, and a real treat. Don't hesitate. "And sighing I will ne'er consent, consented."

OKay, bye again.

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