Don't bore us, get to the chorus

Seems like every crime novel now has an overriding directive: Never stand in the way of the narrative. The train must barrel down the tracks at all times, rushing to its destination. Show, don't tell, is not just a guideline, it's an inexorable imperative. Yet, some of the great crime writers took detours, telling us how to tune the engine of a 1954 Ford or how to rope a steer, or the vagaries of dating in 1920s New York City. Sometimes those detours are vital to the fabric of the story, sometimes not. I invariably enjoy them, almost always welcome them, providing a bit of a breather outside the story maelstrom. The pace doesn't always have to be breakneck. Every element of the story doesn't have to act as fuel for the narrative. Sometimes a cigar is a cigar and we want to find out why the character savors that cigar, even if it's not going to explode somewhere down the line. There's room for languid parts of a book, and if done right they should be welcome, like an afternoon nap or a melodic middle eight within a balls-out rocker.