The Edgars, awarded annually by Mystery Writers of America, are mystery and crime writing's Oscars. As Best Picture is the Holy Grail of the Oscars, so Best Novel is the Holy Grail of the Edgars. Over time, MWA has chipped away at the main fiction category with separate awards for Best First Novel by An American Author and Best Paperback/E-Book Original as well as not-quite-Edgars. These include the Sue Grafton Award for a novel with a "strong, independent woman who is a professional investigator" as protagonist; the Mary Higgins Clark Award for a novel with "nice young woman whose life is suddenly invaded" as protagonist; and the Lilian Jackson Braun Award, for a "contemporary cozy mystery" that must be "light in tone, often humorous. While the book may reference serious themes or subject matter, it does so in a non-heavy-handed manner." This leaves Best Novel to some extent to literary crime or crime-adjacent fiction and what I still can't help thinking of as "boy books."
I'm a longtime member of DorothyL, a venerable online mystery lovers group of eclectic readers, including many writers and other crime and mystery professionals. In recent years, many of them have never heard of most of the Edgar nominees. This year, in a field of three men and four women contenders for Best Novel, we all knew veteran bestsellers Robert Crais and Scott Turow. Collectively, we considered their current books up to standard but not outstanding. Our first and second place 2025 Favorites votes went to Sally Smith,
Of Mice and Murder, whose protagonist is a barrister in the Inner Temple in 1901; and Allison Montclair,
An Excellent Thing In A Woman. The sleuths in this brilliant series, which always makes DorothyL's top ten list but has never been nominated for an Edgar, are a pair of formidable and delightful women running a marriage bureau in post-World War II London.
It seemed only fair to check out the Edgar nominees. My rule is to read on only if I'm enjoying what I'm reading. If the story doesn't grab me or the voice fails to appeal, that's it. No dutiful turning of pages because a book's been praised or because it's
literature. So I'm not saying that my picks for Best Novel, Best First Novel, and Best Paperback Original are the books I think will win the Edgars on April 29. They're the three nominated books, one in each of these categories, that I read with enjoyment and appreciation.
Best Novel: Allison Epstein,
Fagin the Thief
In this brilliant and compassionate twist on a Dickens classic, Epstein blows away the thick fog of anti-Semitism that allowed Dickens to describe Fagin the master pickpocket merely as a Jew for his readers to supply the stereotypes—small, contemptible, avaricious, heartless—and need to know nothing more about him to despise him and wish him a bad end. Instead, Epstein gives us Jacob Fagin, Jewish survivor, profoundly alone and not without heart.
Jacob loves three people in his life. His mother Leah nurtures him, reads to him, and believes in him. When Leah dies, Jacob blames God, turns his back on the Jewish community, strips himself of faith, vowing never to love again. Then he takes in a thirteen-year-old boy with nowhere to go, Bill Sikes, and teaches him the trade of thieving. He's played Pygmalion before, but this time he creates, not a Galatea, but a Frankenstein monster: a giant filled with rage and incapable of controlling his impulses. Enter Nancy Reed—again, it's Epstein who gives her the dignity of two names—a pickpocket as skilled as Fagin himself. When they work a crowd together, they're like partners in a dance. Nancy has charisma. She has only to enter a tavern to light up the room. When she stands on the table and sings, hardened criminals and down at heel old soldiers and sailors sing along. For Fagin, it's not a romantic love, but she is precious to him.
Epstein picks the right moment to challenge anti-Semitism, which is raising its ugly head again all over the world. She also takes on our current stereotypes of exploitation of child labor and domestic violence. Of course these abuses are genuine and widespread in the real world. But what goes on in Fagin's world is more nuanced. Fagin's school for thieves consists of children as young as six whom no one else wants. They come to him cold and starving. He gives them shelter, food, clothing, and a sense of family. He also teaches them a trade that will allow them to eat from day to day, which is the reason he picks pockets himself and always has been. He is a good teacher. He makes sure they excel because he wants them to survive.
Bill Sikes and Nancy Reed fall in love at first sight—both of them. It has the quality of a great love story, even a love triangle. Jacob, with his love-hate relationship with jealous, dangerous Bill and his concern for Nancy's safety, is the third. For more, you'll have read the book. It's beautifully written, well researched, and a satisfying story.
Best First Novel by An American Author: Zoe B. Wallbrook,
History Lessons
Wallbrook gives us a Black feminist perspective on academe red in tooth and claw in a savvy, distinctive, and often hilarious voice and a clever mystery that keeps the surprises coming.
Newly hired assistant history professor Daphne Ouverture, "a Bambi in the eyes of her colleagues," has to deal with all the usual tenure battles, shredding of reputations, sexual shenanigans, and plagiarized student papers in the age of AI, along with the traditional sexism and racism that clings like ivy to the older tenured white male professors. The rich intellectual and cultural context of Daphne's life makes this book far more than just another academic mystery.
Daphne, Sadie, and Elise became best friends after finding one another at some university-sponsored mixer for faculty of color last term. Daphne thought she had been making do just fine with her white colleagues—until Elise and Sadie barged into her life. ...The conversation took off the moment Daphne and Elise realized they'd been raised by tough, immigrant mothers. At some point when swapping strategies for surviving varying punishment methods, a tall Brown Amazonian goddess..had leaned across the bar and asked if she could compare notes. By the third margarita, they were screaming with laughter about the merits of surviving middle school with a mother who refused to pack sandwiches like the white moms. By one in the morning, the trio was dancing to Lil Wayne at a bar downtown and making plans to meet for brunch the next day. Brunch lasted approximately ten minutes. ...They'd napped away the rest of the day in Sadie's living room like toddlers at preschool until their hunger woke them up. ...Something had clicked for Daphne that day—an actual physical feeling of her brain making sense of herself. Sadie and Elise had gifted her with the greatest freedom through their friendship. The freedom to be her most honest, messiest self.
Daphne tells Elise about a disastrous first date.
"Did he like your story about Belgium, at least?" Elise asked.
"You mean how nineteenth-century Belgian colonial administrators in the Congo dismembered indigenous Africans for the purpose of scaring local villagers into creating profit for their newly emerging rubber industry?...No, Elise, it turns out that explaining the evils of late-nineteenth-century European imperialism on a first date isn't exactly a seductive move."
The mystery itself is the murder of Sam Taylor, the university's most popular professor, a rising star whom everybody loved—or did they? a man who could do no wrong—or had he? Daphne finds herself increasingly embroiled in the investigation, which is somehow connected to her. This complicates her growing interest in Rowan, a former cop turned bookseller, who works with the police. She can't walk away, because for some reason, Sam's death has earned her enemies who threaten her career and perhaps her life.
Best Paperback Original: Abbi Waxman,
One Death At A Time
I'm not usually a fan of Hollywood or LA novels, but the sleuthing duo in this one won me over:
Natasha Mason, age twenty-five, three years sober, recovering from alcohol, drugs, and intrusive psychiatrist parents in Berkeley; and Julia Mann, age sixtysomething, fading Hollywood star: formerly famous, still glamorous, served her time for murdering one husband and can't remember if she killed the one who's been found floating dead in her swimming pool, because she was in an alcoholic blackout at the time. Mason volunteers to be Julia's interim AA sponsor and finds herself cast as personal assistant, dogsbody, chauffeur, and unlicensed PI charged with detecting the real killer, preferably before Julia is convicted of the murder.
I'm a pushover for funny books about recovery from alcoholism and addictions, and this one is both on target about what it's like and very funny indeed. The wisecracking narrative voice elicits not only laughter but compassion for both protagonists, who start out bristling with antagonism toward each other and slowly form an unlikely alliance that works for both of them and satisfies the reader. The mystery is convoluted and takes in the machinations of the varied participants in the complicated business of making movies.
_Crop_Edit.png)
