The transformative journey of a closet cozy enthusiast…
A Memory Written by Judy D. Tarbox
It started on a cold New England day in December about five years ago. The last grade was entered, the Christmas shopping was done, and the decorations were up. Feeling relieved at this, trust me, not a normal turn of events, I decided that I could take a few days off and enjoy the holidays before thinking of the next semester’s grind. And I would start by going to my favorite Barnes and Noble bookstore to treat myself. I planned on indulging in a hot gingerbread latte from the cafe while leisurely browsing through the books…oh yes, a perfect afternoon. Little did I know when I began my journey that late December morning, I would be opening myself up to what would become a transformative revelation about…well, me. An experience that brought me back to an earlier time of childhood memories, goals, and dreams as yet unfulfilled.
The first part of this transformative experience started quite innocently really. I was drawn to the e-reader display set up right in front as I walked through the door of the bookstore – drawn to the new Nook Color to be exact. It had just come out in time for holiday shoppers everywhere. Truthfully, I had no intention of buying one but then, well…I tested out the device and I was hooked. It was back-lit so I could read even in low light; it could increase the type size so my aging eyes could see the print clearly (even though I NEVER would be caught dead in the “large print” section of my local library…). And, as if that weren’t enough, I quickly realized that the Nook gave me the ability to download all kinds of books with a few taps. The world of books was at my feet. Well, really my fingertips but WOW! What a wonderful world opened up to me. A world of “reading on-demand”! And the best part was that, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to fight to read what I had grudgingly labeled “paperback print”. Plus, when the book was finished I could download another one instantly (at least if my pocketbook allowed). So I swiped my handy debit card and bought myself a well-earned present. After all, I thought, I could use it for professional reading as well…Ah, the fine art of justification.
When I got home in the late afternoon I was happy to see that all was quiet. We had a crockpot meal in the works and everyone was still out for the day. Since my family is famous for last-minute holiday shopping due to extensive procrastination, I wasn’t expecting anyone to get home until later in the evening. This meant that I had time to explore my new e-reader world in total peace and quiet. So I put on the holiday lights, had soft holiday piano music playing in the background, and sank down on the couch in front of the fireplace with my new Nook Color in hand. There may have even been a glass of Merlot involved here too…
Because I was in such a jolly holiday mood, I began to search for books about the holidays. “Why not,” I thought, “I don’t need to read any intense, professional material for another week.” I had actually been thinking of downloading Dickens’ A Christmas Carol when I noticed a book called Plum Pudding Murder by Joanne Fluke. It was bundled with another book called Sugar Cookie Murder – a great deal, I thought. I wasn’t familiar with either so I downloaded the package and started to read… and that’s when the second part of my transformation began. Not only did I finish these books in record time but, thanks to the new reading on-demand world I had entered, I found others as well…books about candy cane murders, and gingerbread murders, and sleigh (or slay) bell murders. There were also plenty of non-holiday titles too. Apparently, murder was making a comeback in every small town and on every back road from coast to coast. What was even more interesting was that it, the murder, was usually connected to some seemingly innocuous things like plum pudding, coffee, scones, lighthouses, and quilts. Quilts? Did I read that right? I had. It seemed I had discovered a world of murder, mystery, and mayhem that was unlike the traditional “who done it” I read on occasion. To be exact, I discovered the world of the “cozy”.
At this point it’s important to explain exactly what a ‘cozy’ is, I think. A cozy mystery, it turns out, is a fast-growing genre of crime mystery in today’s pop culture world. But cozy readers are looking for a carefully defined set of characteristics that make the cozy what it is. Take the protagonist for example. She is an ordinary person who just happens to be good at finding clues and solving mysteries. And oh yes, these women just happen to have a knack of finding themselves in the thick of the scene of a crime usually complete with the proverbial dead body. They are also working women and frequently small business owners. Cozy protagonists are the proprietors of bookshops, antique stores, and bakeries to name a few. They can also be professional in other ways and work as librarians, caterers, writers, and, my personal favorite, English teachers. Along with the protagonist, the setting is also important in the life of a cozy. It is usually a small town where everyone knows everyone else although it can sometimes be a specific small neighborhood in a larger city. Say a section in Old Town Alexandria as in Krista Davis’ Domestic Diva Series or a neighborhood in Greenwich Village as in Cleo Coyle’s Coffeehouse Mystery Series. The overall story is important too. A good puzzle to solve, not raunchy, no graphic scenes, a ‘love’ interest along with other interesting side characters all interspersed with things like homey tips about decorating, sewing, cooking, favorite recipes, or interesting facts about chocolate (who doesn’t like that). But the real key to the cozy, at least in my cozy transformation, is the fact that cozies are written as a series. And this is important, why?
As I pick up my story again I found that once I read a cozy I had the desire to continue on…I became connected with the characters and looked forward to their next adventure. And I’ll be honest, at first, this bothered me. I thought, rather snobbishly, how can this be happening to me? After all, I’m the one who hosted the ‘classic books’ book group at my home for years. I’m the one who combs used book stores for older editions of famous literature – my bookcases bulging with everything from Dante to Tolstoy to Shakespeare and many others. And yet I found I was becoming connected with the characters in these small towns and back roads. It wasn’t a Walter Mitty kind of thing – I didn’t find myself daydreaming of baking with Hannah, planning a party with Sophie, or brewing coffee with Claire (the main characters in three of my favorite cozy series…). Well, ok maybe sometimes…I came close. And after several months of cozy reading, always on the sly through my Nook, of course, the next phase of my revelation occurred.
On a warm day in late May, a few months after my cozy journey began, I found myself back in my hometown sorting through the storage unit I still rented after having the dubious task of emptying and selling my parent’s house. I knew I needed to keep sorting and discarding but that’s another story entirely. So I rolled up my sleeves prepared to make a dent in the task at hand and I started pouring through the boxes labeled ‘den’. I’d gotten through a few banker’s boxes of old papers feeling certain I could pitch 95% of the contents when I moved on to some small plastic bins. Inside, I discovered, were my childhood books. Apparently, my children, who were my valued assistants through the house purging process, decided initially not to put these in the Goodwill pile. (I guess they knew me well enough to understand my obsession with books). And standing in that storage shed the memories came flooding back. I had always been a cozy lover. Here was the undeniable truth. Oh sure, there were the standard child’s fare classics – Tom Sawyer, Black Beauty, Little Women, among others… And thanks to my godfather, Uncle Bill, there was a book of short stories from Poe, another that consisted of O’Henry Award winners, and yet another of famous tales from Alfred Hitchcock. The classics were ingrained in me at a rather young age. But the real story is what was also neatly stacked within these bins. The series books…The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and yes, I’ll admit my favorite, The Bobbsey Twins.
As an only child, there had been some lonely days when friends were not available and long nights when it was nice to kick back and relax while solving some exciting mystery. During those times it became easy to explore the House on the Cliff with Joe and Frank Hardy, unearth the Secret of the Old Clock with Nancy Drew or solve the Mystery in Lakeport with Bert and Nan Bobbsey. These were my childhood cozy moments. And I couldn’t wait to get the next book, to go on the next adventure with these fun childhood friends. In fact, at one time, when I was eleven and in the sixth grade, I was determined to write such mysteries. I scribbled notes, created stories, and dreamed of being a famous author like Carolyn Keene or Laura Lee Hope (both pseudonyms for the various ghostwriters who worked for the famous Stratemeyer Syndicate that initially produced these series books, but I didn’t know that at the time). However, life moved on and these dreams went where childhood dreams often do, into the recesses of our minds, covered over by the more pressing matters of the current day and time. This leads me to today and where I am now in my cozy transformation.
For one thing, I’m not embarrassed to admit, I’m a cozy enthusiast! I have some series that I follow like clockwork – even pre-order the next book before it comes out. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy the classics – was pleased, for example, when my 22-year-old daughter recently asked if we could tackle Anna Karenina together for a summer read. I happily said yes and downloaded the book (even though I own two print copies…sad). BUT, after spending many hours a week engaged in work and family, the cozies are the go-to friends that I turn to in the evening curled up in front of a fire or relaxing on the deck (and there’s that Merlot again…).
I have also spent some time re-reading the childhood series books that so engaged me those many years ago. They don’t have quite the same impact, but it is fun reading and analyzing them through grown-up eyes. Besides, I’ve re-read one other book of mystery stories that I found in those plastic boxes as well – Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple. I think she, Miss Marple, was an early form of the cozy. The matronly old woman who just happened, through her powers of observation and deduction, to outwit even the smartest detectives. Another significant change is that my cozy world isn’t made up of the cozy book characters anymore.
I also follow two cozy groups online through Facebook. We have discussions on books and writing that are very interesting and engaging. In fact, I recently went to a writers’ conference that was all about the cozy. I found out about it through my online groups. The conference was filled with people – mostly women but some men – who are also cozy enthusiasts. As a result, I have learned even more about the cozy genre. This leads to the moral of the story…or at least what I took away from this journey that led me to explore small towns and back roads through the eyes of the cozy…
First, never underestimate the power of treating yourself to an afternoon of relaxation and pleasure. You never know where it will ultimately take you. Second, never underestimate the power of reading, no matter what the book. Ultimately, all books have the potential to transport and engage in unique ways…not just ‘the classics.’ And finally, give into your whims now and then. Thanks to the unplanned holiday gift I gave myself five years ago, I journeyed on a path of discovery that merged the two worlds of my childhood past and adult present. Truly a transformative experience.