After avoiding the crime section in bookshops for years, the fact that I love whodunnits came as a bit of a surprise. In fact, it was so unexpected that I simply had to tell everyone about it. A blog seemed appropriate – there’s plenty of space to ramble, and it makes a sinister implication that this is not a one-time occurrence. There will probably be more. Flexing fingers is good for a person.
I always thought crime fiction wasn’t really for me. Of course I read all Sherlock Holmes years ago, but that’s classics, right? If I think of any current writers, I don’t believe I’ve read a single one. Stieg Larsson? Nope. P.D. James? Nope. And to be honest, to keep going I have to google who the best-selling crime writers are. It’s not my thing. It’s too real. I watched the Swedish film adaptation of The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo and couldn’t help thinking it was incredibly depressing. It’s sort of similar to my decision of not reading news, because it usually makes me angry, sad, powerless, and disappointed with human beings.