The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman: A review

What an unadulterated pleasure this book was to read. Okay, it is not great literature, but then everything one reads doesn't have to be "great literature." Some reads are just for fun and The Thursday Murder Club was terrific fun.

The setting is England, always a great place for a murder and for eccentric retirees. In this case, there are four retirees who make up the core of the cast of characters. They meet each week to review cold murder cases. Joyce, Ron, Elizabeth, and Ibrahim are nearing their eighties, but their enthusiasm for life and their curiosity are undimmed.

The group of four live in the village of Cooper's Chase. It is a quiet retirement village and the residents are keen to keep it that way.

The group's leader/organizer is Elizabeth who has a somewhat mysterious background as (possibly) a spy. She has a wide network of friends and acquaintances who are willing to do favors for her. She excels at getting things done.

Elizabeth has a friend named Penny who is an ex-detective. She is somewhat haunted by cases that she was never able to solve and it is the files of these cases that she passes on to the Thursday Murder Club.

Each member of the group of four has his or her own set of skills. Ron is a former union boss who is a champion of the underdog. Ibrahim is a retired psychiatrist with particular skills at reading and understanding human behavior. Joyce, who narrates the story, is a retired nurse, new to the community.

PC Donna de Freitas is rather bored with her job in this quiet village. She is called upon to deliver a boring speech about security to the Thursday Murder Club and is surprised when they ask her to join them in solving actual murders. She is intrigued and jumps at the chance to join the group.

Then, this quiet village is racked by news of two new murders and suddenly the Thursday Murder Club has current rather than historical murders to solve. They employ all of their various skills in identifying and exposing a modern-day murderer.

Richard Osman wrote this story with a very light touch and a generous splash of British humor. It is the first in a proposed series and I will certainly keep an eye out for the next entry. Great fun!

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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