And Now for Something Completely Schlocky

Like many women my age, I've been a mystery fan ever since I read my first Nancy Drew book. (Oh she of the roadster, perfect Daddy, and boyfriend named Ned Nickerson.) That was when I was ten and since then, mysteries have been my escape from reality, like television only much better.

But I'm not into the blood-on-the-page kind of mystery. I like my murders discreet, the characters at least moderately interesting, the writing worth reading, and the puzzle solvable by the reader because the writer plays fair and puts all the clues in the book. To do otherwise is cheating.

Some books fitting this description, such as In a Dry Season by Peter Robinson, really soar above the crowd. He's a really good writer, a Brit by birth who now lives in Canada, and for my money, Dry Season is his best book though everything I've read by him is worth the investment in time.

Other books fitting this description, such as Mrs. Jeffries in the Nick of Time (shown above and which I finished last night) are reasonably entertaining when you don't want to be taxed by too much thinking because you've got other things on your mind like your Mom's failing health and the poison ivy on your arms.

I couldn't read a steady diet like Mrs. Jeffries all the time. I'd be bored silly in short order. But there are days when they are perfect, like that dish of Ben and Jerry's when you're supposed to be on a diet.