Henrietta Hay's Column

There are those who think reading mysteries is a waste of time, strictly for those of us who are too lazy to read "good stuff." Not so. Mysteries provide a continuing education. I have learned all sorts of stuff from my life-long habit of reading them, sort of like "Everything You wanted to Know, but Never Got Around to Asking." But even if you don't learn anything, they're great fun.

Tony Hillerman's latest novel, Sacred Clowns has gone off the national bestseller list, but it is still number 1 at the Mesa County Public Library. Probably that is because we are only 300 miles from the Navajo reservation. The only Navajo Indian I dared to ask about Hillerman indicated that he is "pretty accurate." He does seem to have a remarkable understanding of Navajo customs and rites. And I have it on good authority that there will probably be another one. After all, we need to know what lies in store for Tribal Policemen Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn. Maybe there will be a Navajo wedding ceremony after all the murders get solved.

I like Tony Hillerman because of my interest in Navajo culture, but my real hobby is collecting books of women mystery writers and women protagonists. So far the list stands at 78 and counting.

For chocoholics like me there is a Colorado mystery writer, Diane Mott Davidson. Her heroine is named Goldy Bear and she is a feisty caterer in a Colorado mountain town called Aspen Meadows, based more or less on the real town of Evergreen. Woven into the plot are a number of wonderful recipes, which, of course, I will never use. But just thinking of Scout's Brownies and Strawberry Super Pie makes me forget all about the murders most foul which are taking place.

Mardi Gras is nearly here, and for authentic N'Awlins inside information, there is Julie Smith. In her book, New Orleans Mourning her policewoman, Skip Langdon gives a pronunciation guide to a friend. N'Awlins is strictly the folklore favorite for outsiders, "like when you land here the flight attendant says Welcome to N'Awlins... New Awlins if you're very southern, New Orl-ee-uns if you're kind of preppy and affected. New Orlins for most people." For a westerner like me, southern is a whole language with many dialects, and I learned a lot of it from Julie Smith.

Elizabeth George, with her Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley and forensic scientist Simon St. James, writes wonderful British stories. Missing Joseph takes place in London and in a tiny village in the midst of gloomy moors and cold English winter mists. When reading this one, be sure to wear a sweater and don't forget your gumboots. Believe it or not, the author is American.

I did some armchair traveling to read The last tango of Dolores Delgado by Marlene Day. It is set in Sydney, which is not surprising since the author is Australian. It is interesting to note that, where crime is concerned, Sydney is not unlike any big American city. The nightlife it pictures does not take place in the Opera House, however, but in somewhat seedier neighborhoods. At one point our intrepid heroine travels north to Coff's Harbor, otherwise known as the Big Banana because of the many banana plantations nearby. I knew it could get hot in Australia, but I never though of it as banana country. Ah, live and learn.

In Patricia Cornwell's books tell you learn more than you ever wanted to know about forensic medicine and the what goes on in the morgue. She's such a good writer that you don't really mind learning this stuff. Dr. Kay Scarpetta is Chief Medical Examiner in Richmond, Virginia and a right sharp detective, too.

I learned about malamute dogs from Susan Conant's Holly Winter, about white falcons from Judith VanGliesen's Neil Hamel, about bookstores from Joan Hess's Claire Malloy, about art from Meg O'Brien's Jesse James, about the fantastic Iditarod race from Sue Henry's Jessie Arnold, to name just a few. And I always watch for my old friends, Kinsey Milhone and V. I. Warshawski, from the pens of Sue Grafton and Sara Paretsky.

Who says mysteries are a waste of time?