Kim Malo
You know how sometimes the same topic pops up out of the blue in a bunch of different places, as if there’s a subject flu on the loose, infecting conversations all over. Genre has been the theme of late, with cozy vs traditional mystery the popular variant that's right up my alley.
The "what is a cozy vs traditional mystery" question first came up from someone complaining that they couldn’t find any consensus about the answer. The reason for this would be that there really isn’t any.Some use the terms interchangeably, and some of those you can virtually hear spit out the cozy label as a sort of pejorative indicating insubstantial, painfully sugary fluff—the cotton candy of the mystery world. It clearly makes their teeth ache and gives them mental indigestion just to think about it. What consensus there might once have been has been hurt by a broadbased shift in where the dividing line belongs, with cozy edging closer to the stereotype behind the pejorative, only without the spitting. Agatha Christie was once considered the epitome of cozy, and some still think that, but for many others she's now the classic traditional mystery author.
Me, I’m a certifiable mystery wimp, someone who has as little interest in getting into the cracked head and black heart of a psycho killer as I do in dodging bullets and spurting blood through the shadows of darkly dangerous mean streets. In other words, I’m the cozy / traditional target audience, one of those who cares about the difference. While as a reviewer I think one of my jobs is to flag the things that help a reader fit the book I'm talking about into their personal genre universe. Which means having some grasp of what those things are likely to be.
I usually save the cozy label for books closest to the pejorative stereotype, or those in a subcategory that has all but taken over the modern cozy. The former are the books too light and fluffy even for me, like Nancy Atherton’s Aunt Dimity series. The latter includes things like Laura Childs' Tea Shop and Scrapbooking books—series “packaged” around a cozy hobby / craft, cozy profession such as pet sitter, or cozy specialty shop. The writing and storytelling are't always notably fluffy or cutesy, but having the cozy hook at their core keeps them compartmentalized there. I'll admit to not being crazy about the way these sorts of series dominate the genre. It creates an impression that having such a marketing package is at least as important to the publisher as the things I care about—good writing telling an interesting story.
Traditional mysteries, like cozies, sit at the limited gore and violence end of the spectrum, with people and relationships still central to the story, but the feel is more real world. There’s an idealized, almost fantasy world element to the real cozies, based in a secure feeling that even though the stories involve a murder or two, it really is a good world where bad things are pretty much limited to bad people and things will always come out right in the end for the good ones. That real world vs "cozy world" feel is probably the key difference between the two genres for me. Traditional mysteries don’t dwell on grim and gore much more than cozies do, but it’s still generally recognized as part of the world they live in. They can still be funny and even light in some ways, but they're never actively cutesy or fluffy.Traditional mysteries have one gray area that cozies generally don't, involving the sort of sleuth. I used to think that both meant an amateur, since professional detectives had their own genres. But authors like Louise Penny, whose protagonist is a police officer, tell stories built around events and relationships outside the precinct that just have more in common with traditional mysteries than classic police procedurals. So traditional she is.
Fortunately I have her latest, The Brutal Telling, here to read in case I want to think some more about that. It's a tough job, but as they say, someone has to do it.










