Did you guys see The Telegraph’s article of the 50 Crime Writers to Read Before You Die? I love these lists. I usually can only cross off a handful but I like the lists because I can keep adding more writers to my TBR list.

This one is no exception either as of the 50 writers they mention I have only read nine and here I am thinking I’m such a mystery fan. The list seems to be a good mix of classics and modern. You’ll see Edgar Allan Poe and Wilkie Collins along with Ruth Rendell and Denise Mina.

There are some writers I’ve always wanted to read; such as, Walter Mosely and G.K. Chesterton. And, then there are some writers I’ve never heard of, Ronald Knox and Kyril Bonfiglioli for example.

Of course I started thinking of which characters or books they missed. If I were to add some must read detectives on the list I’m sure I’d add Maisie Dobbs, Det. Inspector John Rebus, and Inspector Richard Jury to name a few. Who would you add to the list?

Well this has definitely got me in a mystery mood so I’m off to reconnect with another character I enjoy, Detective William Murdoch from Maureen Jenning’s historical mystery series set in Canada. I just picked up Poor Tom Is Cold which is the third book in the series.

I’ve been feeling a bit off today. Could it be all the wine that was drunk last night at the party? Nah, it’s just that today reality has set in. You see, the party we went to last night was a good bye party for one of my best friends, Christine. Next weekend she and her husband leave for New York to begin a new life adventure, and while I’m extremely excited for them I know I’m going to miss my friend.

Christine and I go way back. We met in high school English class, and probably my first memory of her is when we read Romeo & Juliet out loud in class and she had to read Juliet’s part. She was good. See, even literature played a major role in our friendship.

From then on, we’ve shared laughter, tears and triumphs. Our own adventures have involved everything from going to poetry readings (she introduced me to the poetry of Pablo Neruda) and book singings (we met Ethan Hawke) to traveling around Europe for a month. I know we’ll find a way to share more adventures and this won’t be the first time we live in different cities but it still doesn’t make it any easier.

I know that with her endless curiosity and zest for life she will conquer N.Y., and I’ll be eagerly awaiting her stories and beautiful photos, at least until I go visit her. For today I just want to share this New York poem for Christine and wish this wonderful couple all the best in their new home.

This is the quiet hour; the theaters
Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily
The million lights blaze on for few to see,
Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers.
A woman waits with bag and shabby furs,
A somber man drifts by, and only we
Pass up the street unwearied, warm and free,
For over us the olden magic stirs.
Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights
We live a little ere the charm is spent;
This night is ours, of all the golden nights,
The pavement an enchanted palace floor,
And Youth the player on the viol, who sent
A strain of music thru an open door.

~ Broadway by Sara Teasdale