I grew to love mystery novels during the Covid-19 pandemic.

I discovered the insta-magic of Washington Anytime Library. I could check out ebooks and medicate my anxious mind with stories. One would think I’d read fantasies or romance to blot out the uncertain world. Instead, I fell in love with murder.

At a time when the world seemed to be falling apart, I decided to take a deep dive into deception, greed, and horrible crimes. Bestsellers to lesser known titles, classics, contemporary, historical, adult, middle grade and young adult. Even picture books. Cozies to fast-paced thrillers, books involving food, wine, sex (not the picture books), inconvenient bodies, gore, and no gore, but mysteries nonetheless.

Crimes that need solving.

The oddity of my obsession seemed a bit perplexing. Why would I find reading about characters with lapses in morality  and uncontrolled fits of anger intriguing? In the real world, I tend to avoid conflicts. I’m a vegetarian because I cannot cope with the idea of killing a sentient creature to eat. And I hate weapons of any kind.

So why?

From a writer’s perspective, I admire what goes into creating a strong mystery. The original plot twists, strong characters, clues that keep me guessing . . . And, of course, the resolution. The understanding that no matter what, justice prevails.

Justice. There’s the nub. I can’t speak for other mystery readers, but I read to reach the end of the story. I want to believe in the intrepid sleuth, the tenacious detective, the character who simply will not give up on finding the truth. Justice exists in this chaotic world.

So I continue to read and analyze.What works? What doesn’t? Where do I sense that humbled awe when I read what another author crafted with beauty?

 “I think if we don’t hold people to account when they commit crimes, it sends a message that those crimes are okay. That our society accepts that.” –Jack Smith

I can’t begin to discuss all the rotten things that happen now. Corruption, bribery, quid pro quo. Impulsively starting wars and murdering without retribution. I feel helpless knowing wealthy, powerful people can get away with anything. The daily crimes seem like they belong in a story, a work of fiction, not the real world.

Yet here we are. In a way, this year mirrors six years ago; we may not currently have a global pandemic in the form of an unknown disease, but we have a pandemic of indifference to suffering, a pandemic of greed.

When I write my mysteries, I am also looking for a way to bring order. I think of characters, story and setting. The world builds and the story unfolds. A sense of justice guides me. Perhaps not in a broad sense, like changing a nation or the world, but in  the fictional universe I create; here is a place for the triumph of good over evil. A place for comfort. Not didactic, but rather, a reminder that though our lives are far from perfect, there is an opportunity for good triumphing in this world.

Sky with clouds and sunlight