In praise of junk literature

One might think that someone in my situation would use the time I have now to catch up on some great literature and become an even more erudite person.

One would be wrong.

I am now hip-deep in popular literature, which seems to have no redeeming social value other than it is fun.

We watched "Angels and Demons'' on TV the other night. I am also listening to "Lost Symbols'' on an I-pod (bet you never would have guessed I could figure out how to do that) and am reading David Baldacci's "True Blue'' in the old-fashioned print format.

For those of you totally out of touch with pop culture, "Angels and Demons and "Lost Symbols'' were both written by Dan Brown, of "The DeVinci Code'' fame. Both are the same types of stories: fantastic evil plots based on medieval secret rites where the characters seem to spend much of their time running through what look and sound like Roman catacombs, although "Symbols'' is set in Washington, D.C.

The hero is the same in both cases - a smart, determined prof who has a knack for attracting attractive women to his side and has incredible luck in sniffing out the bad guys and avoiding physical harm.

"True Blue'' is a slightly different but related genre, with a female ex-cop who talks tough, acts rashly but, you guessed it, has a heart of gold. She is being pursued by some mysterious people at the Pentagon even as she tries to solve a murder - a colleague of her new boyfriend was the victim. Baldacci has had 17 straight NY Times best-sellers, according to a blurb on the book jacket.

Shakespeare none of it is, and it often perplexes Emily that this is how I choose to spend my time rather than on more spiritual pursuits. But I answer that if vicarious adventure is the only kind available, it beats the alternative.