It’s Christmas in Caerphilly once again (no really; this is the 11th Christmas-themed book in a 38 book series), and Meg Langslow thought she had enough on her plate. But as usual, the Universe has decided that the old phrase “want something done, give it to a busy person” refers solely to Meg. So on top of the usual shopping, shoveling, being ground zero for the family gatherings, attending her husband’s one man Christmas Carol performance, and now dealing with her twins’ argument over the proper additions to a Nativity Play (fart jokes during the birth of the Christ child: yea or nay?), she know has to tackle hosting not one but two bridezillas, their long-suffering grooms, their feuding mothers, and their easily interchangeable wedding parties. This is the problem with having a picturesque Southern town as your city of residence; every cousin with a strong sense of entitlement decamps to your house to hold their wedding in the local Episcopalian Church, which is having enough trouble with being one of the sites of teenage-driven vandalism. And when you throw in two of them, who despite their mothers being (former) friends have the kind of relationship that makes Cain and Abel say, “dude, show some familial love”, it sets things up for a real Holly Jolly Christmas. And that’s before Meg stumbles over the body of the overbearing, obnoxious, lecherous wedding photographer. Can Meg solve the mystery, keep the season merry and bright, and not shove the bridal tulle down the brides’ throats until they choke?
I absolutely love Donna Andrews books; she manages to write characters that you would not be surprised to run into out in the world; all the faults, foibles, slow burns,and sheer exasperation towards family members we all get around the holidays. And we get the full run of some of the best this book; Meg, her husband Michael, their twins Josh and Jamie, her tech-savvy nephew Kevin who lurks in the basement and helps the police in his free time from running a true crime podcast, the Wiccan cousin Rose Noire with her Winter Solstice coven and the reading of the auras. The family matriarch Margaret, and her habit of saying “interesting” instead of “what fresh hell is that?”, the patriarch James, Caerphilly ME and avid mystery reader (the happiest times of his life is when he or a family member could potentially be a suspect). I could go on for another paragraph or two with great characters; just take my word that there are almost no bad series regulars. The closest is probably Meg’s brother Rob and her grandfather Clifford, and the only things I can say about them is one is an arrested development frat boy and the other is an animal conservationist who’s overbearing and thinks everyone needs to know about how Japanese Water Beetles can’t be digested by frogs (they go into it in the book; it’s disgusting.)
The murder itself, which as usual comes after a mild slow burn (this is a cozy mystery series; the mystery is always simultaneously the plot and background noise to day-to-day life), has a satisfying conclusion; I figured out whodunit quickly, but the motive caught me by surprise. Though of course Meg is the one who figures it out; not that the police are incompetent, as the Police Chief and his deputies are incredibly on the ball as always; it’s just that in the small ways Meg helps with the investigations, she tends to stumble into either figuring it out, or getting close enough that the murderers tend to decide to try and kill her to cover their tracks. Eventually, one of them will realize that maybe not trying to kill someone would go farther to not getting caught than trying. I will say that this is also a case where the victim makes one think of Clarence Darrow; “I’ve never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure”; you know it’s bad when his assistant is a suspect and all Meg can think is “maybe we can get her off with justifiable homicide”.
The other main plot, the weddings, makes me glad I’ve never been invited to be a bridesmaid. Between the drunken “hen parties”, the theft of church property, the demands, and the ugliest wedding colors (lavender and black? maybe, in a stretch. Moss (not green, do not call it green; moss is elegant. green is tacky) and silver? what are we, Slytherin ripoffs?) ever heard of for a winter wedding. And the bridesmaid fascinators; whoo boy. When they remind people of juvenile orcas putting dead fish on their heads, you know they’re bad, The conclusion of the weddings is one of the most satisfying things I’ve read in a while.
One other thing I love about Andrews is that she does her thorough research for her work, and frequently calls on expert opinions to fill in any gaps. Plus she goes for deep-dive Americana lore; the three Golden Eagles that lead to the book’s title are named Nathaniel Greene, Sybil Luddington, and one unknown, but apparently named after another Revolutionary-War hero. So not only will you be entertained, but you’ll learn at least two new facts every book.
If you want a funny cozy mystery series with titles that are all bird puns and showcases small Southern towns, definitely pick up this series.