It’s a mystery

So I think I have confessed before to my love of the trashy crime fiction. Love it. I love it because elements of the form are so predictable. I love it because I can read one in a day or two, especially if that day involves long baths, being sick on the couch, or flying places and spending time in airports. The main characters are so beat up around the edges. The stories are so earthed in physical realities like meals eaten, whiskey drunk, rooms surveyed, draws rifled through, bruises healing, trashy motels slept in, car chases had. Detail, these are stories heady with nouns. My earliest detective fiction loves were Nancy Drew, and Miss Marple. I wanted to be both of them. Sneaking around with a hunch and a trail of clues. As I got older I read more Agatha Christie, had a brief dalliance with Mary Higgens Clark (what can I say, I was a teenager, my taste hormones were unpredictable), discovered Raymond Chandler in my twenties (and stuck with him exclusively), and have in the past few years had serial monogamous reading relationships with Sue Grafton, Ian Rankin, Janet Evanovich (a blind date / casual fling that ended up a long term relationship), Kerry Greenwood, Andrea Camilleri, Lisa Scottalina and even Alexander McCall Smith (though he is a bit squeaky clean and pompous, kind of like having an affair with a well spoken Oxford tutored beige wearing history teacher, no offense).

Mysteries I’ve read so far this year (errm, to the detriment of all those other books on the to read list - oops):
G is for Gumshoe – Sue Grafton
High Five – Janet Evanovich
Hot Six – Janet Evanovich
Seven Up – Janet Evanovich
Hard Eight – Janet Evanovich
To the Nines – Janet Evanovich
Ten Big Ones – Janet Evanovich
Eleven on top – Janet Evanovich
the Right Attitude to Rain - Alexander McCall Smith
Moment of Truth – Lisa Scottaline
Dirty Blonde – Lisa Scottaline
Legal Tender – Lisa Scottaline