Still Life, A Fatal Grace, The Nature of the Beast

Still Life, A Fatal Grace, The Nature of the Beast by Louise Penny

2/5. Books one, two, and eleven of a sorta cozy mystery series mostly set in a tiny Quebec village.

Picked up during the worst of the con crud (pretty sure I was patient zero this time . . . sorry 'bout that, Contxt) and enjoyable in inverse proportion to how healthy I was. So by the time I was getting better I was way the fuck over this nonsense and skipped ahead to find out if everyone continues to be obnoxious. What's wrong with it? I mean, it's populated by mostly kind mostly clever often literate people, some of whom are queer, and I have been known to like a mystery.

Yeah, but. You know that saying about how any book about art is actually about writing? Or is that just something one of my writing professors said? Regardless, it's pretty true. And this series is repeatedly and oh so excruciatingly embarrassingly allllllll about how haaaaaaaaaaaaard it is to be an artist who is unbelievably brilliant but no one appreciates your genius. Sooooooooo haaaaaaard, you guys, and noble and tragic and beautiful, but of course any book of such obvious unappreciated genius 'hem sorry, don't know what came over me – any truly great art will be discovered and adored as is its due. Oh god. It is so embarrassing, I do not know how she is putting these books out in the world without noticing.