I’m very often late to the party when there’s a blockbuster in town. Why? Built in cussedness? Fear of bandwagons? Laziness – I’ll catch that later? Disbelief – It cannot be that good?
Whatever it is, I sometimes regret waiting as long as I have to read the block-busting book in question. And so it has proved with the two books I’m engaged on at the moment. (One for daytime moments and one for bedtime.)
Last night I finished reading Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club and very good it was, too. I do enjoy cozy crime because I am much more into the problem solving than understanding the mind of a psychopath. I liked his group of disparate characters who each had their own foibles, traits, prejudices and an endearing self-belief. And while Osman isn’t one to linger on deep psychological insight, he does paint a convincing narrative with deceptively light strokes.
It is available just about everywhere. I bought mine from the stack of second hand books helping to fund activities in the Carrickvale Community Centre. Sorry, Richard, and Penguin. It’s one of my ambitions to find one of my own titles in a second hand book shop.
Sigh!
Anne
Novels Now 