A while back, I shared a reading list I’d prepared for a Newberry College course in mystery fiction. It was a pretty decent list, I’d say, but a couple of weeks into the course, I tossed it. My class was supposed to be Reading Crime Fiction for Pleasure, and it became very clear to me that asking undergraduates to read a book a week for pleasure was unrealistic. My students were bright and eager, but they were also burdened with full schedules, and they’d been schooled out of reading for enjoyment. Assigned reading was something to be polished off as quickly as possible, with the hope of retaining enough of the text to write a quick paper on it or answer a question or two if it turned up on the final.

I realized, too, that attention spans today are rather different from my own youth (which I recall clearly, if not accurately). Back when I was busy carving out an undistinguished college career, I could plop down in a chair or sprawl on a bed and read without interruption for three or four hours at a clip. And I was not unusual in this regard.

I don’t think many young people read that way nowadays.

Ah, kids today—

That’s an easy response, isn’t it? But here’s the thing—neither do many older people.

And neither do I. Part of it is that I’m nowhere near as likely to get caught up in a book these days. But even when I do, even when a first-rate work of a favorite author comes into my hands, I can’t really give it my undivided attention. I’ll sit there, and every five minutes I’ll pick up my phone, or deal out a hand of solitaire, or find something else to take me out of the book.

Rats. The whole world is going to hell.

Probably, but that’s beside the point. The only constant is change, remember? Things change—and how we read is one of the innumerable things that have been changing.

“Kids don’t read.” That’s what I hear, that’s what everybody says, and it’s nonsense. They’re reading all the time—on their phones or on their computers. They’re checking their Twitter feed, keeping up with texts and emails, and dipping into no end of fiction and nonfiction in one form or another.

And I know of at least one doddering octogenarian who’s not all that different in his reading habits.

I think that’s one reason I reinvented myself as an anthologist—not through calculation of a groundswell of enthusiasm for shorter fiction, but because I myself find short stories more engaging and less daunting than full-length novels. Thus In Sunlight or in Shadow and Alive in Shape and Color and At Home in the Dark and, most recently, From Sea to Stormy Sea. (Plus The Darkling Halls of Ivy, with stories set in the academic world, to be announced any day by Subterranean Press.)

That’s a lot of anthologies.

And a lot of stories by a lot of superb writers. At Newberry, when I realized I had to scrap the syllabus for my crime fiction course, I gave my students eCopies of two of the anthologies, AHITD and FSTSS.

Gave? In other words, you made them buy them.

No, I already felt guilty for having made them spend money on all those unread novels. What I did was send them free files by email, and it was worth it—the stories turned out to be a much better fit for their academic workload and reading habits. And they led to some lively discussions.

That’s kind of interesting. So what’s your point? Short stories are the wave of the future? And you’re poised to make your fortune as an anthologist?

Some fortune. Believe me, it’s a slow way to get rich. I blush to admit that the anthologies are closer to a labor of love; I do them for my own pleasure and satisfaction, and trust that ongoing ebook and paperback sales will bring me out ahead in the long run. But that’s not the point, either.

So what is?

That for a lot of us reading is going to be done in installments. And that I for one intend to cash in on the trend by giving my work away.

I was wondering what the all-caps word FREE was doing in the headline.

Drawing attention, I can but hope. But for years now I’ve made a good deal of my work available FREE—but only to those of y’all with Kindle Unlimited or Amazon Prime memberships. Along with short stories in Italian and Spanish, this bounty of free reading includes several episodic books offered piecemeal.

The Keller books, for example. They’re episodic novels, and indeed many of the episodes were initially published as magazine stories. For some time now I’ve made quite a few of those stories individually eVailable, including Keller in Dallas, Keller the Dogkiller, Keller’s Adjustment, and Keller on the Spot, and they’ve proved quite popular. They’re priced at $2.99, which makes them a convenience but hardly a bargain; you’d be better off buying complete ebooks for anywhere from $4.99 to $11.99, depending on the publisher.

But if you’re already a member of Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited, they’re free. You can certainly sample Keller, and I’m already in the process of making more episodes available, with the goal of offering the entire Keller experience.

And it’s not just Keller. Getting Off, that winsome little tale of sex and violence, is similarly episodic; it began as short stories that surprised me by growing into a novel, and while there’s an ongoing storyline, each of the chapters can stand alone. You may well want to own Hard Case Crime’s gorgeous edition, but you might also want to read the individual Kit Tolliver stories that make up the book—especially since you can do so at no cost.

Same goes for Martin Ehrengraf, the little lawyer who never loses a case. I’ve self-published the complete Ehrengraf, Defender of the Innocent, and I’d be delighted to sell you an ebook or paperback, but all 12 of the stories are available individually.

And you’re just giving everything away out of the goodness of your heart?

The goodness of my heart, if it even exists, rarely comes into play. As always, my chariot is drawn by the twin horses of Ego and Avarice. See, you get to read the stories for free, but when you do, I get a royalty from Amazon. Admittedly, it doesn’t amount to much.

But if enough people read enough of your stories—

It still won’t amount to much, I’m afraid. But that’s okay. Something is more than nothing, and you can read my work for free without feeling you’re taking advantage of me. And if this sounds like a win-win situation, well, what’s so bad about that?

It’s only win-win if I own a Kindle.

Not necessarily. You do need a Kindle for Kindle Unlimited, but Amazon Prime members can read for free on a variety of devices, including your phone or  tablet or computer. (Or your Keurig coffeemaker, I’ve been told, but maybe not.) I don’t understand all the nuances of the two systems, but it won’t be hard for you to find out whatever you need to know. Here are a couple of links for free trials of Amazon Prime and Kindle Unlimited, a good way to find out if they’re advantageous for you.

Meanwhile, I can feel like a fossil if I sit down with a novel and read it all the way through.

Hey, I’m not a cheerleader for short attention spans. But neither am I an ostrich. I know what James Patterson taught us: that most of us get through a book faster when the chapters are short. I know that many of us pick up a book of short stories, scan the table of contents, and read the shortest ones first. I know that flash fiction—stories of no more than 1000 words—is very definitely a thing.

I’ll take your word for it. And what about your  newest book, Generally Speaking? It’s got forty chapters, and a person should be able to jump in anywhere, so suppose I want to read it on the installment plan?

That’s easy. Buy the book, read a short entry or two, and have you still got the business card that pesky realtor gave you? If so, just use it as a bookmark.

Oh, it’s like that, huh?

Uh-huh. But I’m glad you mentioned Generally Speaking, because it’s now available not only as a trade paperback and an ebook but also as a hardcover book with a library binding. The hardcover makes for a more durable addition to a philatelic library, and a more imposing gift for a philatelic friend.

And in all its editions, the book is moving rather more briskly than I’d dared to hope. Michael Baadke’s solid notice in Linn’s Stamp News didn’t hurt a bit. Right now Amazon shows it as its #1 new release in Antique & Collectible Stamps, and the #59 bestseller in Historical Essays. And all this without a single Amazon review!

I suppose it would be nice if some of us took a moment and reviewed it.

It would be very nice indeed.

Well, with all the free things you’re giving us these days, I guess it’s the least we can do. And did you say there’ll be more Keller stories free for the reading?

As soon as we can get them formatted and work up covers for them, which should be fairly soon indeed. I’ll try to let you know, but check for yourself from time to time; do an Amazon search for “Lawrence Block Keller” and see what comes up.

Meanwhile, as I’ve learned to say at the end of class, “Time’s up!” There’s more I could tell you, had I but world enough and pixels. Two of my translators delivered within a day of each other, so I’ll soon be announcing the publication of the German edition of Scudder #18, A Time to Scatter Stones, and the Italian rendition of Keller #5, Hit Me—but that’ll have to wait. So will the official announcement of an intensive writing workshop I’ll be leading here in New York in April-May. And of course there’s more to report in the world of audiobooks, and POD paperbacks, and—

Remember what you were saying about short attention spans?

Oh, right.

I think you should stop now.

You know what? I think you’re right.