I’ve been trying to work out, over the last while, why it is that I feel so very drawn to murder.
As a subject, not a pastime. As a pastime I am mainly ambivalent toward it.
Like many people, as we sunk into lockdown, I reached for objects and activities that would offer some comfort. Y’know, like murder. Mainly in podcast form. Anything that I could plug into my ears to shut out the sound of remote schooling and the racing, buzzing thoughts in my own brain, and keep me occupied while doing jigsaw puzzle after jigsaw puzzle after jigsaw puzzle, when not working. Cold cases, forensic things, any podcast that retold the sad story of a real person’s very sad demise at the hands of another, I was THERE FOR IT.
Not JUST murder, of course. I also found great solace in con artists, cults, and tales of corporate malfeasance, because I know how to party. But more of that anon. Murder was the meat of it. As Morrissey didn’t quite say wayback-when but probably would say if talking about his pandemic podcasting habits.
And it wasn’t just me. I’ve heard the same from others. But why? Why did true crime become such a grizzly little teddybear at that particular point? Or a tidy little grizzly bear? Whatever. SO!…Read More »