Type casting & the Genre Police.

“Whatcha reading”? Henry asked placing his coffee on the table and lowering himself into the chair across from me. I had the paperback folded over on itself, obscuring the cover, generally I read e-books but this time I went for an honest-to-God paperback. I unfolded the book, exposing the cover art.

“It’s what’s known as a ‘cosy’ mystery. Andorra, she’s the one in the pressure-suit, has moved to a mining colony out around Saturn and finds herself in the middle of a mystery. It’s by Richard Dee, author of Steam Punk fiction such as The Sensaurum and the Lexis, and The Hitman and the Thief.” Henry’s head snapped up, “The same fellow who wrote that,” he said pointing to the tome in my hand, “wrote The Hitman and the Thief?” “Yes,” I replied. “Surely you must have looked at his other works.” He leaned back in his chair, a kind of bemused expression on his face. “I had the book referred to me by someone online; Never heard of the author before but the story came well recommended, I haven’t yet checked his catalogue” he said, leaning forward once more. “May I see it?” he asked. I handed him the book and Henry turned it over in his hands, examining the cover and reading the blurb on the back before handing it back.

“So he does Science Fiction and these…” he groped for the words. “Cosy mysteries” I supplied helpfully. “What’s a “Cosy Mystery” he asked, “something like ‘Agatha Raisin’ “? “Yes” I replied, “and while the Andorra Pett stories fit,” I said, “there are those,… the errm ‘genre’ police if you will, who have given him quite a difficult time of it”. “Purists are they?” he asked. “Indeed”, I replied, leaning forward to place the book on the table and pick up my coffee, “of the worst sort”. “Hmph, it takes all kinds I suppose”, he said, “but I think what these ‘purists’ forget is the Cosy Mystery was itself once an outlier, probably became its own genre because it was pooh-poohed by the purists of that from which it sprang.”

I sipped my coffee, it was delicious and I must have made a sound indicating as much.

“So what’s the flavour you’ve got this week?” he asked looking over the top of his glasses. “Coconut Dream”, I replied, “and you?” “Just plain old dark roast Columbian” he said picking up his beverage. “It looks (judging by the cover) like it would be a fun read” he said, indicating the book on the table, “mind if borrow it when you’ve finished?”, he was scrolling through something on his phone. “Oh! never mind!” he exclaimed. “It’s less than five dollars on Kindle, I’ll pick up the e-book version” he said, tapping his screen and waiting.

“Less to carry” I said, setting my now empty coffee cup down. “Yes, less to carry” Henry responded absently settling into his chair. Standing I picked up my cup and dropped the spoon into it, the steel and ceramic startling Henry out of his reverie. “More coffee?” I asked. “Yes, thanks much”, he replied, “and I think I’ll try some of that,… what was it again?” I started to say the name but only got out the first word and Henry finished with the last. “I think you’ll like it”, I said, but he was gone again starting out on a new adventure on a space station orbiting Saturn. “Both the book and the coffee were new things for him”, I thought to myself.