From the minute I read the description of The Enigma of Room 622, I knew I had to get my hands on it. Semi-autobiographical metafictional mystery in the Swiss Alps? Sign me all the way up.

The Enigma of Room 622 follows the author, Joël Dicker, as he arrives at a Swiss hotel to get away from the worries of real life. Once there, he stumbles upon a mystery from the past – a love triangle and a power struggle that reaches the highest echelons of Swiss banking. I read this story in one sitting, one giant gulp of a reading session, and had a wonderful time.

That’s not to say the plot is the most logical at all times. (The Goodreads reviews are split on this topic, with many bemoaning the silliness of the storyline.) While the book’s marketing materials describe this as a thriller, I’d describe it as almost campy – a fun, melodramatic romp. But for stories like this, I like to use by “blockbuster test”: the measure of the story is not by the numbers of holes I can find afterwards, but how much I enjoyed the moments during the read.

If you’re like me, this book will need to find you at the right time – you can’t expect to take it too seriously. But if you’re looking for a fun read, the mystery version of a summer blockbuster, The Enigma of Room 622 might just hit the spot.

As a Bay Area transplant, I loved finding a mystery that incorporates my adopted hometown’s history and culture. There’s something extra-special about being able to imagine the settings based on your own lived experience. Lavender House by Lev A.C. Rosen combines those descriptive scenes with intriguing story, taking us back before the City by the Bay was out and proud.

In Lavender House, Rosen writes the story of a disgraced queer ex-cop, Andy, in 1950s San Francisco. Irene Lamontaine was a master soap maker who created a small safe haven for her queer family in Marin County. When she dies, her widow Pearl hires Andy to investigate. Andy’s quest takes him through all levels of society, from swanky soirées at the Palace Hotel to (in)famous queer nightclubs. He also investigates each member of the household – and explores their personal experience of queerness, and how it reflects his own identity.

Lavender House is a satisfying (if somewhat predictable) mystery. Its themes – identity, freedom, and the true meaning of family – set it apart from historical crime comparable. The setting is gorgeous – from an isolated forest manse to 1950s SF nightlife, Rosen explores the fullness of the Bay Area. Come for the setting and the vibes, stay for the family and the themes – a perfect mystery for a foggy day.

I’ve been obsessed with heist stories since my mom introduced me to Ocean’s Eleven. I know the movies are not, strictly speaking, accurate – most art thefts are pretty thuggish IRL – but they’re such a blast to watch. The idea that someone can plan something so complex and pull it off without a hitch – the celebration of skill, even if it’s at theft – is like catnip for me. The Ocean’s series, White Collar, Leverage (and its sequel) – I eat this stuff up.

So when I heard about Portrait of a Thief by Grace D. Li, I was already onboard. College students somewhat improbably stealing ancient Chinese artifacts was just my speed. I figured there wold be some deconstruction of colonialism – but I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so hard. As the descendant of another heavily colonized country, I found myself rooting way harder for the characters than I expected. Li’s deconstruction of art “ownership” and shifts in economic power left me pensive and conflicted – because, well, I do still enjoy museums (even those that display Indian artifacts).

This story is flawed in the way many heist stories are flawed – things end up going a little too smoothly. The book takes place in a universe that’s almost ours – one in which five college students can shift the path of art history. Reading Portrait of a Thief is an escape into that world – not a reflection of the reality of the hard we we have to do here. But it’s a fun escape, and I enjoyed my time there – and that’s really all I ever want from a good heist.

In my opinion, the best part of an elderly sleuth is their relative advantage in life experience. There’s something so aspirational to me about knowing yourself (and others) so well, and being so comfortable in your own skin. The best elderly sleuths leverage that knowledge to their advantage, using it to predict and analyze situations with astounding accuracy. And, when you get really lucky, they have a crew of similarly self-aware friends who create a super-team, a gang with complementary sleuthing abilities.

Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club cast is just such a team – one of the most perfect I’ve rad in recent memory. The group comprises Elizabeth (ex-spy and general badass), Ron (well-connected rabble-rouser), Ibrahim (former psychologist), and Joyce (straight man, mother to an accountant). Their friendship is instant and comfortable, and reading about them is like wearing a cozy blanket. Osman also includes younger characters who can serve as foils and bring in modern technology and information.

Osman’s latest entry in the series, The Bullet that Missed, finds our protagonists in a new pickle of their own making. Elizabeth’s past has caught up with her, and she’s been tasked with killing someone before Joyce is killed instead. The stakes are high, the vibes are fun, and it’s the perfect escape from humdrum existence into a world where logic and friendship can overcome almost any challenge. And in these wild and wacky times, what more could I ask a book for?