Some Cozy Fiction Favorites

Recently I’ve been very drawn to cozy fiction. I focus on SFF and mystery for the most part, but not exclusively; my consumption also tends to (but doesn’t exclusively) fall under fantasy. (I do also continue to read and watch other kinds of stories like competence porn). But regardless of genre, the works I enjoy the most share a certain element of comfort in them.

Thematically I need:

  • lower stakes—the problems must be smaller. (They can be large-ish for the characters, however.) No cataclysms or world-enders (i.e., quests that only the protagonist can complete before the looming threat will irrevocably ruin life in the whole universe), and absolutely nothing gloomily post-apocalyptic. Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree amply fills this criterion. (Although if L&L had had any more faffing about with coffee than it already did I might have screamed.) His Bookshops and Bonedust was good, too.
  • protagonists who either already have or within the story make at least one reliable, supporting connection. The Earthsea world by Ursula K. Le Guin has quite a few characters like this. (Nostalgia does also help.) A found family counts for me, too, of which the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers is a delightful example. (The Monk & Robot duology, however, I emphatically bounced off of.)
  • antagonists who form reasonable obstables, but aren’t too far-out or vile. I might mention The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison.
  • things to eventually settle into a comfortable state. If not an outright happy ending like in The Princess Bride movie, then at least a kind of a happy ending. As Erik put it, as happy an ending as possible under the circumstances. Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher comes to mind.
  • and last but not least, protagonists who know themselves and are comfortable with themselves and their place in the world, like Ellis Peters’s Brother Cadfael stories. (Sadly, you can’t binge read the series without quickly noticing what a boring copy-paste job Peters does with the featured young women—they tend to be perky and pretty and often strong-willed. That’s all fine and good, in itself, but there are already enough Smurfettes, thank you.)


As always, learning to work together is a huge bonus for me. Plus, the focus characters need to come across as rounded personalities, not paper dolls being carted around delivering plot-advancing lines. The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells handsomely fit these two criteria (even if some of the problems are larger), as does T. Kingfisher’s The Saint of Steel paladin series (even if there’s a little more romance than I’d generally care for).

There are also a number of works that fill some of the wishlist points but not others. Katherine Addison has added to the fascinating world of The Goblin Emperor in the excellent duology The Witness for the Dead and The Grief of Stones, which I’d count cozy otherwise (or cozy enough, like Christie’s mysteries), but the protagonist Thara remains troubled throughout, with just the tiniest glimpse of contentment at the end of TGoS.

The Keeper’s Six by Kate Elliott also follows a protagonist with a number of established allies, but the problem was too grand and some of the characters too snide to fit it into my comfort reads category. And the otherwise excellent Thorn by Intisar Khanani has a very nice but ultimately helpless human who remains far too helpless for far too long.

In the visual media, if possible I would like to pull everything concerning the village of Ta Lo in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings into its own story; there isn’t too much of it in the Marvel Cinematic Universe version, but what there is is lovely. Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit show snippets of the ultimate cozy setting, the Shire, but, alas, they don’t amount to a long sequence either.

Character-wise, the Disney+ Obi-Wan Kenobi series features a delightful growing friendship between young Leia and Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t call the series cozy otherwise. To venture into the historical, most Jane Austen adaptations and the Miss Marple series with Joan Hickson always deliver. In fact, we just finished a most satisfying Miss Marple rewatch. 🙂

Unsplash Mariah Krafft Hygge Essentials Sm



There is, however, something elusive about my sense of cozy fiction which I haven’t yet been able to quite put my finger on. Oddly, as much as like tea, taking a mystery and slapping in ample servings of tea doesn’t necessarily cut it. For instance, Malka Older’s The Mimicking of Known Successes and The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles were complete misfires for me.

Some commentaries on the rising popularity of cozy fiction talk about foregrounding sensory details. That might have something to do with the appeal, although I think an overload is an overload regardless of what you’re overloading. (Hello there, Legends and Lattes, faffing about coffee.) I suspect, though, that the crucial factor for me is the protagonist’s sense of comfort with their situation; a comfortable amount of self-knowledge or self-awareness. I’ll have to think about it some more.

Apart from this mystery ingredient, it seems the works I enjoy most right now are basically about recognition of the ordinary. They have ordinary people persevering, or, in case of people with extraordinary skills, characters who nevertheless know how ordinary they are in other respects. Quite ordinary motives behind even the most elaborate murder plots. Or perhaps simply the enjoyment of commonplace situations and routines—but in a SFFnal setting, because I do still want a little bit of a twist in my fiction. 🙂

With the past three years having been very trying, I don’t wonder at taking comfort in a slower pace, lower-stakes challenges, more familiar burdens, and happy endings. With tea and yummy noms, if possible.

I may, in fact, be turning into an old cat, LOL! 🙂

Unsplash Sebastian Latorre Cat Sleeping Sm

Anything you could recommend along these lines? Do chime in! Also, if you have any cozy gaming experiences, I’d love to hear about them.

Images via Unsplash: Hygge essentials by Mariah Krafft. Cat sleeping by Sebastian Latorre.

Quotes: I Didn’t Want to See Helpless Humans

Murderbot, the sardonic human-machine construct Security Unit who was designed to fight and kill but would rather just watch media, reflects on what makes a good story:

The latest show I was watching had started out good but turned annoying. It was about a pre-terraform survey (on a planet with completely the wrong profile for terraforming anyway, but I didn’t care about that part) that turned into a battle for survival against hostile fauna and mutant raiders. But the humans were too helpless to make it interesting and they were all getting killed. I could tell it was heading toward a depressing ending, and I just wasn’t in the mood. […] I didn’t want to see helpless humans. I’d rather see smart ones rescuing each other.

Murderbot, in Rogue Protocol

Me too, Murderbot. Me too.

Wells, Martha. Rogue Protocol. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 2018, pp. 22-23.

Light Academia: Love of Optimism, Joy, and Happy Endings

I posted about dark academia about a year ago when I learned of the phenomenon. Time for a sibling post of sorts: since then, I’ve discovered the style light academia.

According to Aesthetics Wiki, light academia favors positive themes in general, “focusing on optimism, sensitivity, joy, gratitude, friendship, motivation, and happy endings.” (Naturally still associated with the love of learning.)

Etsy HeatDigitalClub Watercolor Light Academia Clipart Bundle Sm

Apparently, the term was coined on Tumblr already in 2019. (Man, I must’ve been hanging around the wrong side of Tumblr not to have heard about it then!) Also, apparently cottagecore can overlap with light academia, as can a romanticized view of coffee shops as places for people-watching and studying.

Sounds like neutrals, earthy colors, white, gold, and pastels are especially favored. One article lists movies and shows with light academia aesthetics, including classics like Little Women, but also newer productions like Bridgerton, the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice or the 2022 Netflix adaptation of Persuasion. There are, of course, playlists and recommended activities or crafts. Some people even sell light academia mystery boxes on online platforms! I’ve found out that there are also other, established flavors I hadn’t heard of before: green academia and chaotic academia.

(Good grief, I feel officially old! At least there doesn’t seem to be any academia cores.)

While I love reading, knowledge, and learning, I confess I’m a little perplexed by this dissecting of various aspects of campus / university life into separate aesthetics. (Not to even mention the fact that Finnish universities by and large look quite different from these Anglo-American-style ones.) But I guess that’s what we humans do—we create endless groupings out of the same elements.

Image: light academia watercolor clipart by Anna Zhar at HeatDigitalClub on Etsy

Quotes: Gwladys or Ysobel or Ethyl

Complaining about “kids these days” with strangely-spelled names is a well that never runs dry. It’s also an older habit than many who indulge in it would think. Here’s a bit from a 1930 P. G. Wodehouse story where Bertie Wooster’s Aunt Dahlia chides him for falling in love with a young lady with an eccentrically-spelled name.

‘Yes, Aunt Dahlia,’ I said, ‘you have guessed my secret. I do indeed love.’

‘Who is she?’

‘A Miss Pendlebury. Christian name, Gwladys. She spells it with a “w”.’

‘With a “g”, you mean.’

‘With a “w” and a “g”.’

‘Not Gwladys?’

‘That’s it.’

The relative uttered a yowl.

‘You sit there and tell me you haven’t enough sense to steer clear of a girl who calls herself Gwladys? Listen Bertie,’ said Aunt Dahlia earnestly, ‘I’m an older woman than you are – well, you know what I mean – and I can tell you a thing or two. And one of them is that no good can come of association with anything labelled Gwladys or Ysobel or Ethyl or Mabelle or Kathryn. But particularly Gwladys.’




P. G. Wodehouse, “The Spot of Art”

The next time someone gets in a snit about Kaytlynn, Jaxson, or Alexzandre, you can let them know they’re part of a tradition at least a century old.

Wodehouse, P. G. “The Spot of Art.” Very Good, Jeeves. First published 1930. Reprinted in The Jeeves Omnibus. Vol. 3. London: Hutchinson, 1991, p. 460.

Quotes: Her Backstory Unfolded Pretty Much as I Typed It

In the acknowledgements for her novella Thornhedge, author T. Kingfisher talks a little about the process of writing this particular story.

–T. Kingfisher in the acknowledgements for Thornhedge
Kingfisher Thornhedge

I’m not a fiction writer, but I do recognize the phenomenon of suddenly uncovering details from role-playing. It’s delightful to just suddenly realize a pertinent, obscure, or particularly distinguishing detail about your character.

(This kind of serendipitous discovery also makes me think any algorithmically generated (“AI”) content won’t be replacing the most original types of human-generated content terribly soon, nor will machine translation replace human translators in a hurry. Oh, make no mistake, people will try to replace human creators with machines. But at least thus far we’re still more sophisticated when it comes to pure innovative leaps or getting smoother translations.)

There have been many times I’ve wished to be able to tap into the unconscious mulling process or consciously force a creative leap, but of course it doesn’t work that way. It makes the moments when it does happen all the more precious, doesn’t it? 🙂

Kingfisher, T. Thornhedge. London: Titan Books, 2023, p. 122.

Image by Eppu Jensen

Quotes: And Then It Leaves You Alone

The Finnish Independence Day is tomorrow, on December 6. In honor of a day of rest, here’s a quote celebrating the most important things in life for this Finn—food, clothes, books, and tea:

Current Reading Babel

“Professor Lovell spoke with uncharacteristic warmth. ‘It’s the loveliest place on earth.’

“He spread his hands through the air, as if envisioning Oxford before him. ‘Imagine a town of scholars, all researching the most marvellous, fascinating things. Science. Mathematics. Languages. Literature. Imagine building after building filled with more books than you’ve seen in your entire life. Imagine quiet, solitude, and a serene place to think.’ He sighed. ‘London is a blathering mess. It’s impossible to get anything done here; the city’s too loud, and it demands too much of you. You can escape out to places like Hampstead, but the screaming core draws you back in whether you like it or not. But Oxford gives you all the tools you need for your work – food, clothes, books, tea – and then it leaves you alone.’”

– Professor Lovell in Babel: An Arcane History by R.F. Kuang

Well—cold-sensitive, erudite, reclusive Finn or not, I do have to add a few carefully selected people into that mix. But otherwise it sounds very good. 🙂

Kuang, R.F. Babel: An Arcane History. New York: Harper Voyager, 2022, p. 23.

Image by Eppu Jensen

Diana Wynne Jones: Howl’s Moving Castle

I’ve been looking for cozy, comfortable fantasy reads lately, and I’ve seen several recommendations of Diana Wynne Jones’s Howl’s Moving Castle. Until recently, I had known this name only for the Studio Ghibli animation (which I have never watched either), and I was surprised to discover that it was a novel first. I have read and enjoyed some of Jones’s short stories, so I was hopeful about picking up this novel. Alas, my hopes were soon dashed.

The story follows Sophie, a young hatter who is cursed by the Witch of the Waste to turn into an old woman and to be unable to tell anyone about the curse. Sophie goes in search of someone who can not only break the curse, but recognize that there is a curse to break without her having to tell them. She ends up in the small cottage of the wizard Howl, which is enchanted to look like a mobile castle on the outside. Howl seems to take no notice of Sophie, but his pet fire demon Calcifer recognizes the curse and agrees to help her if she will in turn help him break his contract with Howl, which, for magical reasons, he can’t talk about either. So Sophie settles in as a sort of freelance housekeeper to Howl and his apprentice Michael, while keeping her eyes open for anything she can learn about Howl and Calcifer’s contract.

So far so fairy tale. It’s a strong beginning with a promising cast of characters an interesting set of problems for them to unravel. And then nothing happens. Nothing continues to happen for two-hundred pages, until the last twenty pages when all the plot that didn’t happen in the rest of the novel suddenly comes crashing in like five trains trying to run on the same track at once.

It’s not that the characters don’t do anything for all that time—there are trips to the royal palace, covert visits to sisters, and a jaunt to modern Wales, but none of them make any sense or accomplish anything for the characters. Indeed, most of what the characters do is senseless. Over and over again the novel repeats that Sophie does or says something “without knowing why.” Jones, of course, knows why, and most of these nonsensical acts turn out to be coincidentally relevant in the finale, but far too much of what happens in the story happens because the author is setting up what she thinks is a clever ending, not because it makes sense given what motivates the characters and what they know or think they know at the time.

Indeed, it turns out in the end that Howl knew about Sophie’s curse all along. So did her sisters, not to mention the powerful magic-worker one of her sisters was studying under, and they were all trying to help break the curse. In fact, almost everyone Sophie encounters over the course of the novel knew about her curse and was trying to help her all along, but none of them ever bothered to tell her so. Why not? For no reason I can see other than that it would have broken the dramatic tension before Jones was ready.

Although the story mostly takes place in Howl’s small cottage, I found the atmosphere more stifling than cozy. Howl is an irresponsible jerk who makes everyone around him clean up his messes (both literal and figurative) while he moons over one lady or another. He is moody and mean, given to sulking when he doesn’t get his way, and never shows appreciation for how much work the people around him are doing to keep him afloat. Sophie falls in love with him at the end of the novel, as a fairy tale demands, but for no reason that I can fathom.

The only interesting thing I can point to in the novel is how it cleverly remixes themes and elements from The Wizard of Oz. There is a living scarecrow, a wicked witch in a castle, a humbug of a wizard from our world lost in a fantasy land, and a girl in search of a way back to her familiar life. She even eventually acquires a faithful dog and magical traveling footwear. For all these echoes of Oz, the story never feels like a pastiche or homage; it reimagines and recombines these elements to form an entirely different story. If only that story were any good, it would be an impressive narrative feat.

Howl’s Moving Castle left a bad enough taste in my mouth that I think I’ve been put off Jones for a good while. Maybe someday I’ll give her other works a try, but I need to cleanse my palate a bit first.

Image by Erik Jensen

ICBIHRTB – pronounced ICK-bert-bee – is short for ‘I Can’t Believe I Haven’t Read This Before’. It features book classics that have for some reason escaped our notice thus far.

A New Translation to Honor the 50th Anniversary of Tolkien’s Passing

J.R.R. Tolkien died on September 02, 1973, exactly 50 years ago this Saturday. Also 50 years ago this year saw the publication of The Fellowship of the Ring in a Finnish translation. In celebration, a new, improved Finnish translation of the whole trilogy will be published this September.

Often a translation, especially of a fictional work, seems less good—less satisfying, skillful, expressive, vivid, what have you—as the original.

In my experience, however, there is one exception—and perhaps you guess the connection? The Finnish translation of The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Issuu Screencap WSOY TSH tarkistettu suom lukunayte kansi

The prose for Taru sormusten herrasta is by Kersti Juva and Eila Pennanen; the poems were translated by Panu Pekkanen. It was Juva’s first job as translator. In fact, Juva did most of the work while Pennanen supervised the first two books, and Juva got solo credit for the prose in The Return of the King.

The translation is wondrous. Somehow in the Finnish version, the Hobbits seem more homey, the Dwarves more earthy, and Elves more ethereal than in the original. The desolate areas feel more despondent, and darkness deeper. I’d also say that Pekkanen’s poetry translations wipe the floor with Professor Tolkien’s—having first read the Finnish, I was, frankly, disappointed in the English-language poems in the LotR.

I’m sure some of my appreciation of Taru sormusten herrasta comes down to nostalgia and sense of wonder—I first read the trilogy when I was in my early teens, an impressionable age if there ever was one. Some of it, I’m also sure, comes down to reading my native language.

These days, however, after decade+ of higher ed in and on the language plus daily use with a fellow language nerd, my English is quite as good as my Finnish. I can and do recognize the skill in Tolkien’s writing, plus many of the references and nuances, including some of the Old English. (Though not being a mainstream literature person, I’m sure I also miss other connections—my degree in English is primarily in the language, not lit.)

I’ve been reading in foreign-for-me languages for about 35 years now. Most of my non-native-language reading has been in English, either as original or translations. Some has been in Swedish, German, or Estonian, all translations of works I’ve previously read in the original language. While I can’t boast university education in the field of translating, I’d call myself an educated hobbyist. And as such, I can see the quality of Juva’s work. Erik and I have even read the first 400 pages or so of Fellowship out loud to each other, first a sentence in English and followed by the same passage in Finnish. You really do see Juva and Pekkanen’s skill in the text.

LotR and TSH Side by Side

This new, improved version of Taru sormusten herrasta is also by Kersti Juva. In interviews she’s said the focus of the new version is to polish the language and to weed out the uncertainties a newly-minted translator (herself) wasn’t yet able to see her way past.

Sounds ever so good to me! In fact, I already have a preorder in. 🙂 Also, the celebratory edition looks to be a gorgeous, gorgeous book, with the famous LotR illustrations by Tolkien himself.

Image: screencap from a sample of the newly revised Finnish translation of The Lord of the Rings trilogy by WSOY via Issuu. LotR and TSH side by side by Eppu Jensen.

Review: Blindsight by Peter Watts

Recently I’ve been trying to read more SFFnal classics among my normal selection. I can’t remember why I added Blindsight by Peter Watts (published in 2006) onto my library holds list. When it finally became available and I started to read, I discovered that one of the characters is called Jukka Sarasti (which is a Finnish name), so perhaps that was it.

Content note: spoiler alert!

Current Reading Blindsight

The novel’s events start in the year 2082. A first contact situation arises after thousands of unknown devices burn up in Earth’s atmosphere in a coordinated manner and radio signals are detected near a Kuiper belt object.

Earth sends a ship captained by an AI (called the Captain) to investigate. Theseus is crewed by five augmented humans or transhumans, including their leader, a genetically reincarnated vampire (Sarasti). When the crew wakes from hibernation they discover that Theseus was rerouted mid-flight to a new destination in the Oort cloud. Orbiting a previously undetected rogue gas giant is an enormous, constantly growing object, presumably a vessel, which the crew dub Rorschach.

The Theseus crew begin studying Rorschach with telemetry and excursions despite some very hostile environmental conditions. Additional challenges are posed by psychological effects (hallucinations) and extremely fast, multi-limbed organisms on Rorschach, and on Theseus the crew’s aggravation with the narrator, synthesist Siri Keeton. Eventually relations between Theseus and Rorschach culminate in physical attacks, and only one crew member, Keeton, is sent back to Earth in an escape pod with copies of the information collected before Theseus detonates its payload to destroy Rorschach.

What was especially delightful is that—setting aside Sarasti, who as mission commander and a predator is kind of outside the crew anyway—Theseus’s crew consists of two men and two women, and everyone is described the same way regardless of the configuration of their bodies. Skills and personalities are what matter most. (This is especially enjoyable after reading certain other classic SF novels, which I will leave unnamed to languish in their stifling obsolescence.)

Another interesting detail is that Susan James, the linguist in the crew, actually carries three other personalities or cores in her head, all working and socializing in harmony, and collectively referred to as the Gang by the rest of the crew.

Blindsight turned out to have one suprisingly topical detail. The Gang figure out that despite conversing with the Theseus crew seemingly normally, Rorschach doesn’t really understand the communication. This sounds very much like the recent discussion of Chat-GPT and other AI engines, doesn’t it?

One of the strengths of Blindsight is that it fuses elements from both the so-called hard sciences and the social sciences. Surely SFF (and all storytelling, for that matter) is at its strongest when it’s questioning our perceived realities or possible realities, starting from what makes humans tick. I’m quite tired of SFF that takes bland “and then they went to x and did y” travel narratives and merely cloaks them in fancy wrappings.

Alas, Blindsight has quite a few horror elements and closes with a rather despondent situation. Despite being skillfully written and constructed, it’s therefore not for me.

Blindsight was followed (in 2014) by the novel Echopraxia to make up the Firefall duology.

ICBIHRTB—pronounced ICK-bert-bee—is short for ‘I Can’t Believe I Haven’t Read This Before’. It features book classics that have for some reason escaped our notice thus far.

Quotes: Bottles Rattling with Explosive Sneezes

I gather that Becky Chambers’s new Monk & Robot series has gotten a mixed reception. Broadly speaking people either love it or are frustrated by it. Since I love Chambers’s Wayfarers series, I thought I’d check the new series out.

Current Reading A Psalm for the Wild-Built

I’m still not yet sure what, exactly, to think except to say I see why the dichotomy has arisen. Here’s one section that I found simply mind-boggling:

“The wagon’s lower deck quickly lost any semblance of organization, evolving rapid-fire into a hodgepodge laboratory. Planters and sunlamps filled every conceivable nook, their leaves and shoots constantly pushing the limits of how far their steward would let them creep. Stacks of used mugs containing the dregs of experiments both promising and pointless teetered on the table, awaiting the moment in which Dex had the brainspace to do the washing-up. A hanging rack took up residence on the ceiling and wasted no time in becoming laden to capacity with bundles of confettied flowers and fragrant leaves drying crisp. A fine dust of ground spices coated everything from the couch to the ladder to the inside of Dex’s nostrils, which regularly set bottles rattling with explosive sneezes.”

– Becky Chambers: A Psalm for the Wild-Built

The section starts quite well, and I see why the word cozy is applied to the series. Then, sadly, it gets worse. I don’t even terribly mind the mess in a food-prep space (dirty dishes to the ceiling and a coating of dust), as it could conceivably be just eccentric. (I mean, I prefer a clean home myself since I’m allergic to dust, and plant dust doesn’t help, but to each their own.)

But. Dex is “regularly” sneezing “explosive[ly]” all over the space where they mix the teas they’re offering to people they serve as a tea-monk.

Excuse me? SNEEZING—REGULARLY—ON DRINKS THEY SERVE TO OTHERS?!?

Disgusting is an understatement! The exact opposite to cozy. Ew! Ew, ew, ew, eww!

I do get that getting a book to print takes a good long while (a highly technical term, that). I wasn’t able to find out when Chambers started to write A Psalm for the Wild-Built, but the publishing deal was announced in July 2018 and the first book published in July 2021. In the acknowledgments for the sequel, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, she writes that she finished book 1 “just before lock-down started” and handed in book 2 “three months before I was eligible for my first [covid vaccination] jab”. It is therefore possible that it was not feasible to change the text.

Still, I should think that it’s not too much of a stretch to NOT SNEEZE ON FOODS AND DRINKS. In real life or in fiction. With or without a pandemic behind you (i.e., having been filled to the gills with information about cough etiquette and sneezing hygiene).

EWWWWWWWWW!!!

Chambers, Becky. A Psalm for the Wild-Built. New York: Tordotcom, 2021, p. 22-23.

Image by Eppu Jensen

Serving exactly what it sounds like, the Quotes feature excerpts other people’s thoughts.