Constable and Robinson have just launched a new website, Village Green Mysteries – so new that bits of it don’t work. However, I have high hopes and it’s already introduced me to a couple of authors I must road-test. Interesting to note that the market for readers of “cozies” (I deliberately use the American spelling, on the basis that otherwise someone might think you could acquire tea-cosies with a lot of writing on them. Hmm. Interesting textile challenge.) is increasing to the point where a themed website is commercially viable. Waterstones has a separate section for them too – the difference seems to be between black and white covers (serial killers and nastiness) or coloured covers (death by nice people). Historicals fall between the two stools, but mostly end up with the black-and-whites.
In other news, the last Poirot with David Suchet aired on Wednesday, and it was suitably sombre, not to mention dark, and an excellent end to a long relationship. It wasn’t quite as dark in a literal sense as the previous week’s Labours of Hercules, where they seem to have run out of budget in the lighting department, and had to make do with a small table lamp throughout. I watched most of it thinking “Put another shilling in the meter, love”. Generally rich people are well lit, and poor people scrabble around in the dark, but this broke with cinematic convention by having rich people who couldn’t afford the electricity. Much like of the rest of us, then.
And finally – Murder She Wrote without Ms Lansbury? Unthinkable, and yet…. NBC have dared. I’m not holding my breath. Without Cabot Cove? The oracles have been silent. As the mother of the French family I au-paired for used to warn, “Ca va finir mal”. (It’s not going to be pretty.)