Some thoughts on Cosy Mysteries, and a review of Knit One, Kill Two by Maggie Sefton

The American craze for 'cosy' mysteries, often with a very domestic theme - baking, sewing, , scrapbooking, libraries, gardening, tea shops - shows no signs of abating. I've read a few in my time, from the quite good (Miranda James' Cat In The Stacks series) to the rather less so (Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun - yes seriously) but I've never stuck with them for long.

Many of these series, though, run into double digits, and I can't believe publishers put them out if they're not selling. I suppose their appeal is at least partly their very cosiness; from cooking to cheesemaking, the activities around which they revolve are comforting, homely arts. The books quite often include recipes. They're also inevitably set in a small community, where everyone knows everyone else and nothing bad ever happens. Apart from murders, that is, and even these are sanitised and frequently off stage. 

What I have enjoyed in the better cosies is the introduction they give to a different way of life. Miranda James' librarian detective Charlie Harris has the beautiful manners and old fashioned speech of the Deep South (the stories are set in Mississippi.) From these books I also learned about the slower pace of life in the Southern states; Charlie wanders home for lunch around 11.30am and he doesn't rush back. Then oh my goodness, it's 4,30pm - better get off home for dinner! There's no room for a New York City state of mind in his life. 

Abigail Keam's Josiah Reynolds mystery series may focus on beekeeping, but it also depicts life in Kentucky, another place about which I know next to nothing. What's more, Keam's amateur sleuth Josiah has a mysterious past of her (yes her) own; she used to be a wealthy art history professor (handy when a mystery involves a painting...) with a famous husband - how has she ended up trying to make ends meet on a rural honey farm? Keam drops tantalising hints, The first book in this series won a Gold Medal Award in 2010 and spent two months in Amazon's top 100 women sleuths list. 

Cosies do, of course, also exist on this side of the Atlantic, but they're rarely quite as cosy, and are far less often wedded to a particular activity. In the Rosemary and Thyme series on ITV Pam Ferris and Felicity Kendal did play gardener sleuths, but the notorious (and much loved) Midsomer Murders featured actual policemen, called in each week to solve yet another bizarre (and largely bloodless) crime. Death in Paradise follows the efforts of the local police to bring the surprisingly high number of villains on the beautiful island of Sainte Marie to justice, but although everything looks very nice we still don't expect to see Ralf Little taking out his embroidery or running a sideline in scones.

Agatha Christie's Miss Marple may be a little old lady living in a village, but the murders she encounters often take quite a sinister turn. I think that while many of us do enjoy a fairly sanitised mystery and are more interested in working out who did it than hearing all about the blood and gore, we still want a very slightly cutting edge. Cupcakes and decoupage just will not do. 

So I'm not here to ridicule this hugely popular sub-genre. Done well it can provide an enjoyable break from the serious stuff, and can even educate us too. 

But when a cosy is done badly, oh my goodness is it bad, and I'm afraid to say that Knit One, Kill Two is down there with the worst of them. 

Kelly Flynn is a Washington accountant who spent much of her childhood with her Aunt Helen and Uncle Jim in Fort Conor, Colorado. Helen was an expert knitter and quilter. Kelly refused ever to learn how to knit one single stitch. 

When Helen is murdered in her own home, a cottage she had retained after selling off most of their property to fund Jim's medical bills before he died. Kelly returns to Fort Conor for the funeral and to deal with Helen's paperwork. The police are sure that Helen was killed by a local vagrant in a bungled burglary. Needless to say, Kelly disagrees.

The local knitting shop is housed in what used to be Helen and Jim's farmhouse. 

Kelly - she hates knitting, remember? - takes all of 5 milliseconds to fall in love with the shop, the group of women who frequent it (and also, in theory, have jobs, though you'd never credit it), and the café next door. For Kelly has only one vice, and that is coffee. On this basis we endure endless descriptions of the contents of the shop and the quality of the coffee. I'm sure yarns and knitting accessories are very lovely, but Sefton labours this point on almost every single page, and always in the same way, The balls of wool are inevitably described as 'pudgy', and Kelly is forever walking through the shop 'sinking her hands' into the skeins and touching the finished garments. Nobody ever tells her not to. Is this really a thing? Would all the merchandise not end up filthy? 

Meanwhile, the women (who are practically indistinguishable, though one is apparently blessed with 'eyes like saucers', lucky girl) chat - but no! They are not allowed merely to chat. The author has clearly been on a writing course, and one that demonised a useful little word. No character is simply allowed to 'say' anything - instead they 'intone', 'muse'. 'contribute', challenge', 'offer', 'encourage', 'infuse' (!) and, worst of all, ''chirp' and 'chirrup.' We are not in an aviary here. 'Said' would do the job so much better.

Sefton also seems to hit on a word she likes then repeat it ad nauseam over the next few paragraphs. So we have 'she sped' twice within twelve lines, hardly anyone ever smiles without doing so wryly, Mimi, the owner of the shop, can't just walk, she bustles everywhere, every time Kelly has an idea we are told it 'resonated inside her', and when she's hungry, (which is most of the time, so preoccupied are we supposed to believe she is that she forgets to eat) her stomach 'growls.' Possible as a result of all that resonating.

Descriptions are lazy - one woman is described (more than once) as 'the little round knitter', and every time Kelly wants to make a point we are told that 'her hand shot out' - so often that one does begin to wonder if Kelly actually has some sort of nervous tic.

And surprise! The friends are for some reason determined to get Kelly knitting. Do they succeed? I bet the suspense is killing you. But long before it does you'll expire from boredom at having to read all about her struggles with the stockinette stitch.

Kelly is also a runner, or so we are frequently told. Yet she on one occasion sets off on a run immediately after consuming two large slices of pizza, and on another she arrives back gasping for a gallon of coffee. Really? I'm no athlete but I can't image doing any serious exercise straight after a plateful of carbs, nor downing a bucket of caffeine when I'm still catching my breath. 

Kelly is, of course, given a love interest, the affable handyman/building magnate (portfolio careers are in, right?) Steve. And she hates him on sight. Why? Because he looks a bit like her ex. That writing course must have told Sefton to include a bit of conflict, so here it comes - except there is no basis for it whatsoever, Steve goes on being nice throughout the book, and Kelly's attempts to keep him at arm's length are both pointless and unrealistic. And why does a mystery have to have a romance thrown in anyway? Mary Stewart might have been able to get away with this, but even then she only pulled it off in the best of her novels. For most authors the best advice would be to stick to one genre - after all, we've already got knitting to cope with here.

As for the plot itself - I'd be prepared to cut this author some slack here, as the plots of most cosies are ridiculous if looked at in the cold light of day, and often that doesn't matter very much. But on top of everything else - the sloppy writing, poor (non existent?) editing and cardboard characters, the identity of the killer and their reasons for murdering Helen just do not even begin to convince. Almost any of the people in Fort Conor could've been in the frame here, and while every mystery needs its red herrings, wasn't it Christie herself who said that the author must play fair with her readers? The clues must be there, and they must make logical sense. 

This series runs to sixteen novels. Lots of readers must love them. I am probably just too cynical and critical to share their enthusiasm, but I doubt if my thoughts will bother Ms Sefton too much - she's evidently filling a gap in the market, so good for her, I wish her well. 

I almost forgot to mention - at the back of the book there's a knitting pattern and a recipe. The coffee cups of a gazillion cosy fans will no doubt runneth over. And mine does too, because I've now completed another prompt in the 52 Book Club 2024 Challenge, 'a title beginning with the letter 'K'.

Knit One, Kill Two by Maggie Sefton is published by Berkley Prime Crime, New York, a division of the Penguin Group.