When I first got myself into reading I figured I’d start with what you humans call the classics. Those books that are typically old enough to have been deemed by society to be worth something of decent enough value to be remembered and reminded of for generations. During school I was prescribed books to read but back then I was more fond of getting into trouble than reading books. With hindsight I know it to be a poor choice in the long run. In the short term it was a lot of fun.
When I got to choose the titles myself I could peruse options from authors that typical teachers and educational curriculums didn’t include. But I read a few of the classic classics too. Depending on the century they were written in books can be tricky to read and understand. For some people this task of basic linguistics is too much and they give up. Unfortunately.
I waded my way through old English and new until I found a fondness for them all. But I never really read anything that was popular at the time it was written. As The Offspring say in their brilliant song Smash, “I’m not a trendy asshole.” However, after reading multiple powerful novels in a row sometimes my mind just likes to juice through some easy to digest pages of pulp.
The Thursday Murder Club series of books is no doubt popular at the moment. The main proof being the adaptation of the books into a film. And as is the custom in a predominantly capitalist society, the measurement of sales. I borrowed the copies I read. Lending books is a love language. These books are entertaining enough to read that millions of people have seemingly bought them. And although buying them doesn’t necessarily mean that people read them, I think they probably did because of how easy they are to read.
It’s also plausible that the primary market for these books are aged pensioners who see themselves living a vicarious life through the characters. Who wouldn’t want to be a spy? Regardless of how old you are. And everyone knows someone who is nosey. Like all best sellers there is a universality in the characters that many people can relate to. There are quite a few differences with regard to the wider setting when it comes to someone who lives outside of England, but it doesn’t require much imagination to conjure an image of the scenes as Osman describes them.
They filled about a month’s worth of reading time for me in between the heavier stuff. Keeping the mind ticking but not requiring much thinking. A lesson I’ve learned from the writing style is that if you want to be chatty you can write a character who is chatty, especially if she is as close as can be considered the main character. Everyone will find their favourites among the cast. They’re written just to the point of absurdity so the suspension of disbelief is not derailed and the stories become believable and the people endearing.
The casting for the film seems to indicate that they’re taking the task fairly sincerely, which I consider a good omen. The books are enjoyable enough to deserve respect when being turned into a movie. Whodunnit books have been popular for ages. Agatha Christie being arguably the master of the genre. The somewhat comical idea of a few septuagenarians and octogenarians solving cold murder cases gives this series a less serious twist. Although I don’t consider these books high literature, there is a point to reading them and that is that they’re far superior to Osman’s TV show: Pointless. Although that’s probably not his fault.
