I was worried until I read this, really worried.

Being a male in his late twenties, I have to say I was fairly concerned about owning up to being a massive fan of the infamous TV show Murder She Wrote. I had an idea that admitting to such a thing was a bit like being a heavy-weight boxer and admitting to being a secret cross-dresser, or admitting that I have always found Margaret Thatcher to be the most gorgeous woman on planet Earth (which I must say now is and will never be the case–at least until I’m much older.)

But alas my day has come!

Putting aside the slightly unbelievable premise—first time author becomes best-selling author, yes, then unbeatable super-sleuth, solving a murder every week without fail—there are many decent elements to please all ages and tastes in Murder She Wrote, honest! First you have the tension and suspense evident in every single episode—and who doesn’t love that?—and then you have the humour: it really is genuinely funny. To prove this point, I made my very macho Israeli house-mate—who had never heard of the show—sit and watch three episodes back to back and he thought it was hilarious (and he could understand everything, so it wasn’t just because he though the language was funny).

Another thing I love about the show is it’s depiction of authors; often Jessica mocks them, and is completely disbelieving that their work will be any good when they show it to her. That for me clinches the deal: as a writer myself I empathize with both the first time authors portrayed in the show and poor Jessica, trying to get her book done when everything keeps getting in the way–