“A Two-Hour Walk” is an intellectual-psychological detective story that has not lost its charm even today. “Let me tell you the story of my life,” you read sometimes in a sincere, simple-minded letter. “It’s a real novel.” Stories fill the world. They happen in every home — openly or in secret, colliding with each other or cautiously going around. Funny, sad, entertaining, boring — just lean in to bring any of them closer. But you pass by one indifferently, weigh and evaluate another, then forget it — to remember later by accident or not by accident. You take no part in it. Yet it is “yours,” and you almost unconsciously stage it, like a musician performing a sonata without looking at the sheet music. Sometimes it turns into a manuscript. If you’re lucky, the manuscript becomes a book, and the book seeks and finds — or doesn’t find — its place among the events that make up a life…