HH and I watched the first episode of an Italian mystery, Inspector Ricciardi, with subtitles. So much drama. So much emotion! Really interesting. We’ve tried the Swedish Wallander series. Gloomy. Depressing. The Australian series, Doctor Blake. Very practical, no nonsense. And a French mystery that was a romp and really entertaining but a bit disjointed. And lots of lots of British mysteries that range from tongue in cheek like Tommy and Tuppence and Shakespeare and Hathaway to serious like Lewis and Hathaway and Poirot. We’ve started watching the American Hallmark mysteries and enjoy those, but a lot of American crime shows don’t do it for us. We’re not CSI fans. It’s just not what draws us in.

The thing is it almost feels like each country has a certain undertone that defines its stories. And I find that interesting. I’ve only noticed it recently so intend to think about it more and try a few more series from each country. But if it’s true, I think it’s wonderful. Countries have their own personalities, their own voices. And differences make the world a better place.

When I read, I haven’t branched far outside American, English, Scottish, or Irish mysteries, but I tried Arsenic and Adobo, a Filipino mystery, and it was fun. It had its own voice, its own uniqueness. Which made it interesting. Every once in a while, this next year, I want to try to branch out and try something out of my comfort zone. I’ll either expand my choices of good mysteries, or I’ll retreat back into what I know and love. But it will be fun to find out.