Colmar, 1353 CE
Gritta, Appel, and Efi managed to survive the massive death toll of the Black Death, only to realize that day-to-day problems don’t end just because of a major epidemic (#relatable). Children still need feeding, husbands will still drink away all the money, and people die from more than the plague. With limited options (I mean, a woman can’t even “entertain” the local menfolk without getting shade from the local monastery) and lots of obstacles, they band together to become alewives – brewing and selling ale in the French Alsatian town of Colmar. But when a neighbor is discovered dead in her house, the alewives cannot convince the sheriff or the town council that her death wasn’t an accident, it was murder; and she’s just the beginning. As the body count piles up, can these three alewives solve the case, as well as assist Friar Wikerus, the Franciscan monk recently come to the Dominican monastery, solve the mystery of the missing church gold? (Of course they can; the men in this book aren’t exactly brain trusts, any of them.)
This was a very strange, yet highly enjoyable book. I appreciated that the characters and experiences came across as very realistic; the mysteries were solved naturally, not through blazing flashes of amazing insight. Truly, the people in the book acted like real people you would meet on the street; sneaky, snarky, selfish people with all the foibles, vices and virtues that everyday people have. It also (as far as I could tell) seemed to be well researched; no one seemed to act anachronistically, nor did any description of the town seem out of place.
The story is set in the tannery section of Colmar, also referred to as Les Tanneurs. Seeing as no one willing lives near the never-ending reek of urine, as you can suppose Les Tanneurs is considered one of the poverty rows of Colmar.
Gritta, who is probably the main character of the three women, lives in a small house with her husband, the drunkard Jorges, and the eight of her twelve children still living at home. Twelve children born and all of them surviving the plague; you’d say Gritta was lucky, but then you’d not have read this book and seen what her children are like. One is the favorite plaything of the local lord, another is a lazy, thieving, sheep-bothering lout; if a fire broke out and all but Gritta perished the IQ in Colmar would not dip by much. Gritta would mourn them all, as fed up with them as she constantly is. And yes, the reason why Jorges has turned to drink is very sad, but then again Jorges is one of those people who have an insatiable need to take other people down with him due to his own weakness.
Appel is the oldest of the three, and probably the most independent. A childless widow, Appel however has no problem paying her rent due to her side gig as an under the table abortionist, and the large, heavy-footed “cat” that is frequently in her upstairs room. (or more likely multiple “cats”, based on what the book insinuates). It is Appel’s hut they use for their brewing, as she has the most room and the alleged prior knowledge of brewing. Though Gritta is the one in the best position (bad position that may be) to brew the ale; women are only able to sell whatever ale that is left over after household consumption, and with Jorges around no one can believe they’d have any left over. They also need to have a man overseeing the production (and again, with Jorges, not a good idea). That problem gets solved by the end of the book, but still.
Efi, meanwhile, is the youngest and the newly widowed out of them, as her husband drowned in a freak, and stupid, accident. Which takes Efi out horribly, a fact that she will take to her bed to wail about (or people’s doorsteps if they’re not coming to pay attention to her) nonstop without end. She is extremely passive-aggressive, incredibly dramatic, and a bit of a ninny. If you want to pop culture her, here she is: 
Friar Wikerus is probably the one man in the book that has two brain cells to rub together (I think that may be due to his higher than his compatriots’ sobriety). He also has a “mysterious past” that is vaguely hinted at being the reason he’s in Colmar. He is also the closest thing the alewives have to an ally in the town; actually, the reverse could also be said (our Friar Wikerus is not the most popular of monks).
The murders, of which there are multiple, are unfortunately ignored or explained away by the council leaders; as they are all lower-class women of a certain age, this is unfortunately not surprising. The resolution is satisfying, and the motives for both the murders and the thefts seem realistic. You don’t have a reaction of “oh come on, really?”
There are two more books in the series, and I will definitely pick them up. This was a not very taxing read, but as I said, it was an enjoyable one.