Murder Most Cozy
Are you a fan of cozy murder?
Did you know there was such a thing as cozy murder?
We’re talking fiction here, of course, lest anyone is considering a call to my local police constabulary— murder mysteries of the type described by Wikipedia below:
Cozy mysteries do not employ any but the mildest profanity. The murders take place off stage, frequently involving relatively bloodless methods such as poisoning and falls from great heights. The wounds inflicted on the victim are never dwelt on and are seldom used as clues.
Think a bucolic village (or aristocratic manor house, or sparkling tropical island) simmering with secrets, scandals and lies. Add an easily underestimated amateur sleuth, a cast of eccentric characters and a frustrated-yet-begrudgingly-impressed police inspector who just can’t seem to put two-and-two together on his own and you have a recipe for a first class cozy.
While using even the most discreet depiction of violent crime as escapist entertainment is itself still somewhat problematic, the focus of a cozy is not the crime but unravelling the riddle. The reader is trying to race the author to the whodunit, to dodge the red herrings and untwist the twist endings. It’s a puzzle box, the more complex the better.
Puzzles, though, are like bonbons. As soon as you’ve finished one, you want another. And after a while, as delectable as they are, they all start to taste the same. It’s no surprise that a genre started by Agatha Christie almost 100 years ago has spawned some predictable tropes, but it gets pretty tedious when you can spot the murderer before the second act. (Shy potential love interest with a tragic backstory and an ironclad alibi, I am looking directly at you.)
There’s also the issue of believability, a particular problem when it comes to TV adaptions. If Midsommer Murders is to be taken even slightly seriously, rural England has a higher murder rate than Juarez, Mexico.
Of course, none of it is supposed to be taken too seriously. In a genre where magicians, priests, spinster librarians, caterers, even cats can be crime-stopping masterminds, nitpicking just ruins the fun.
But if you want it all, puzzle, great characters and fascinating setting, without the gimmicks, allow me to recommend Ellis Peters’ Cadfael Chronicles.
The setting: A Benedictine monastery on the Welsh border in the early 12th century. Conveniently, there is a brutal civil war raging in England, a perfectly logical excuse for tangled loyalties, gallons of intrigue and the occasional pile-up of bodies. (Thus the appropriately titled first two novels, A Morbid Taste For Bones and One Corpse Too Many.)
The sleuth: Brother Cadfael, an aging soldier-turned-herbalist, officially retired but unable to stay out of trouble. Given that the cutting edge of policing at the time was dunking people in water to see if they were witches, his commonsense, experience based approach to investigation is practically CSI : Shrewsbury, without any annoying anachronisms to spoil the fun.
Peters draws on real life historical figures as well as creating characters from every strata of medieval English and Welsh (and Norman and even Viking) society, bringing their ambitions and jealousies to life through immaculate research and warm humor.
They’re not all good — they’re not even all mysteries. But when she hits the mark, the series excels anything else I’ve read in the genre. It’s also the basis for a superb TV adaptation starring Derek Jacobi that is well worth a binge if you can find it.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve finished my chocolate box of Cadfael mysteries. Now we’re into book-reading-by-the-fire weather, I’m on the hunt for a new series to puzzle through. What would you recommend? Let us know in the comments!