This was a perfect antidote to the shenanigans of The Thin Man.
No dysfunctional families with a weird obsession with incest and cannibalism. No skeevy guys and because Jim Qwilleran is a recovering alcoholic, definitely no booze.
Ah yes, Jim Qwilleran. A man of his times (the early books were written in the 1960s). He sees women as decorative arm candy to be invited to Christmas parties. He prefers them to be subtle and he definitely knows what he likes when it comes to legs and cleavage. Hey Jim, women have brains you know.
But that's just feminist me quibbling. As cozies go, these books are fun and fluffy and Koko and Yum Yum totally steal the show as Siamese cats are wont to do.
"You see, no one thinks of Junktown as a community of living people - merely a column of statistics. If they would ring doorbells, they would find respectable foreign families, old couples with no desire to move to the suburbs, small businessmen like Mr Lombardo - all nationalities, all races, all ages, all types - including a certain trashy element that does no harm. That's the way a city should be - one big hearty stew. But politicians have an a la carte mentality. They refuse to mix the onions and carrots with the tenderloin tips."
Probably more true now than in 1968 when this was written.
Mrs Cobb started up the creaking staircase, her round hips bobbling from side to side and the backs of her fat knees bulging in a horizontal grin. Qwilleran was neither titillated nor repelled by the sight, but rather saddened that every woman was not blessed with a perfect figure.
Well boo hoo Mr Qwilleran, you're no prize pig yourself are you?