Cosy Cotswolds Crime: A Season for Murder

A Season for Murder by Ann Granger

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Pp. 310

This novel is subtitled A Mitchell and Markby Village Whodunnit, implying there are more. A quick Google search reveals there are fifteen and this is the second. I would happily read them, as I found this to be what is somewhat dismissively termed, a ‘cosy murder’ novel, but it is perfect for reading on a rainy weekend, and as comforting as a bowl of chicken soup. It is set in a world of village life, country lanes, cosy pubs, and the Boxing Day Hunt where do-gooders attempt to help with varying degrees of success, and men are cruel to women. It was published in 1991 before mobile phones and internet searches – crime was different then; a plot point relies upon bin men collecting the rubbish bags personally. The moors are spooky, the lanes can be too quiet, and myths and superstitions abound along with ancient and pagan rituals. It’s all wonderfully atmospheric.

As usual, a young, attractive independent woman (Harriet) is the murder victim, but there is blame apportioned to her and her behaviour: she had many gentleman callers; she was a harpy and a whore; she had no one special to look after her; “But I wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t driven me to it… It was entirely her own fault, her doing, not mine… She was the cause, she started it all.” Men can’t be trusted apparently, and they certainly can’t be friends with women. Harriet, and women in general, suffer from this dichotomy.

The novel follows typical crime tropes and we are aware that due process must be followed; in law as in literature. “I’m not a barrister, Markby thought, nor judge nor jury. But he was the first step on the path to those persons and he had to get this right! If he didn’t, some clever lawyer would get the boy off on a technicality.” Another of these tropes is that there must be chemistry and tension between the male and female detectives, and so, of course, there is. Meredith is a happily single woman, yet still feels she has to prove herself to others and stake her place in the world, especially at Christmas; a very lonely time.

At thirty-five, Meredith has always “looked after herself”, and now she considers, “It was too late to change and tie herself to someone else. But she knew that was untrue. Of course it could be done. People married or entered into permanent relationships later in life and thrived on them. But it would turn her world upside down.” The perspective often changes from Meredith to Marky as the novel follows the thoughts of one and then the other. At one point they are singing carols (badly) in church, and the focus switches like a harmony in song. This is nicely done, and the style of writing complements the delightful Cotswold setting to make this an enjoyable addition to the genre.