I've been reading mystery series for over a decade now. I enjoy them when they're well constructed and I get that little jolt when I thought I had it all figured out … and I turn out to be wrong. But I don't really read them to find out whodunnit. I read them because I've become so fond of the characters.
Sara Paretsky's V.I. Warshawski was my first, recommended to me because her adventures are set in the best city in the world; Chicago. And because Vic is a lazy housekeeper who loves dogs, which gives us something else in common. I read these books in big, greedy gulps, but soon I was up to date and needed to move on to something/someone else.
Sue Grafton's alphabet mysteries came next. Kinsey Milhone is a cop-turned-private-detective who lives in a mythic California town, Santa Theresa. There's much about her personality that I like. But I especially admire Grafton for setting all these stories in the 1970s. This way she doesn't have to incorporate cell phones or the Internet into her plots. And it keeps Kinsey (like Vic, an avid jogger) forever young and strong. Which leads me to …
Robert Parker's Spenser. I have the most passionate, tempestuous relationship with these books. I love them, but am so annoyed as soon as I'm done. Spenser is a Korean war vet, which means he must be at the very least 75, and yet every woman he meets wants him. And his derring-do isn't very credible when done but an old guy. (That's why I admire how Grafton has side-stepped this issue with Kinsey.) Spenser has a maddening lover, Susan, who is high-maintenance and incredibly shallow, yet everyone she meets loves her. Yet in spite of all that, I read each Spenser installment as soon as it comes out. I love the guy. He's funny. He's honorable. He loves Red Sox baseball and Boston, which I can understand because I love my city and my team.
Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books are terrific. Better than funny, they're witty. And I love the interplay between Wolfe and Archie. (I admit that I have something of a crush on Archie.) As mysteries go, these are probably the weakest. But as character studies go, these are my favorite. Regardless of the year, regardless of the situation, Wolfe and Archie and the goings-on in the brownstone always ring true. These books also provide affectionate, romantic snapshots of New York from the Depression on through the 1950s.
The Southern Sisters by Anne George are a pure delight. Two older ladies, who are known by their family names "Mouse" and "Aunt Sister" somehow keep getting pulled into crimes. The sisters are an endearing study in contrasts. "Mouse" is a tiny teacher, married for a gazillion years to the same man. Together they enjoy watching Biography each evening as they eat their dinner off TV tables. "Aunt Sister" is a mountain of a woman who dresses flashily and keeps marrying, and burying, wealthy husbands. She also is the highly indulgent owner of a cat named Bubba who sleeps on a heating pad and does little else. These books are not very violent, because really, who wants to see these two charmers in any real peril? It's their relationship (and the ongoing battle about a certain Shirley Temple doll), their family and their love of Birmingham, AL, that kept me coming back. Unfortunately Ms. George died a few years back. I miss her work.
Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta is at the opposite end of the spectrum. Boy, oh boy, are these books violent! A lawyer and medical examiner, Kay is the beautiful, sophisticated and haunted star of this series. She is surrounded by the family she has cobbled together from those around her. Pete, the angry but talented cop; Benton, the aristocratic FBI profiler she loves; Lucy, her genius lesbian niece. The dark, very sad characters find comfort in one another against a backdrop of truly horrible crimes and the worst specimens mankind can produce.
If you're already a fan of these books, you know that you consider the characters friends. If you aren't, these would be terrific books to toss into your beach bag or suitcase to bring along on vacation.
