I spend my evening watching mysteries on television — Poirot, preceded by another Poirot, and a Sherlock Holmes. I spent my afternoon working on my mystery book (work left over from the last nanowrimo contest, but not abandoned by any means). What is it about murder mysteries that fascinates me so (me and many others)?
I think they are our modern equivalent of the old morality plays put on by the troupes traveling from village to village. What more awful crime is there than murder? Very basic too — and the solving can be quite difficult. The solving of the reasons, if not the how and who. Rather like mathematics with people. Chaos theory with people. Chaos people. That sounds good.
It is nice to have some nuggets to ponder, those few moments when one isn’t sucked under the level of consciousness by the visually-oriented media.
white pebble 