Don’t Blame the Author by E.J. Copperman, or his designee

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: If you're a mystery reader, sooner or later you're going to know this pain: three or five or eight books into a series you love, with characters you look forward to spending time with, and twisty plots that come to a satisfying end, suddenly... there's no more.

Sometimes, it's because the author has passed away. We are human, after all, and though I personally wish the ghost of Edith Pargeter was still toiling away at the Brother Cadfael mysteries, she's more than earned a peaceful rest. Some retire: Lee Child has placed the Reacher series in his brother, Andrew Grant's hands, and back in the late 90s, the historical romance author LaVyrle Spencer retired at the height of her career. Some writers get tired of the characters, or run out of stories to tell for them - famously Dennis Lehane with his Gennaro/Kanzie series. And occasionally, an author makes so much moolah he can sit on his vast horde like a dragon, puffing out hints of more books but never producing (I'm looking at you, George R.R. Martin.)

But the most common reason for the death of a series, and the one our well-loved EJ Copperman is here to tell us about, are the cold equations of the publishing biz.

 

 

It’s not my fault.

Readers like to ask authors questions, and authors love to answer them. But when I tell you that Good Lieutenant, the sixth Jersey Girl Legal Mystery, will be the last in that series, please don’t ask me why I decided to stop writing about Sandy Moss and her undisciplined friends.

I didn’t.

The reality of the publishing business is that it’s… a business. Publishers buy manuscripts they think will appeal to readers enough that they (the readers) will purchase copies, either physical or digital, or check one out from a library that has, in turn, purchased that book. If enough money is made – by the publisher – to justify trying this whole thing again, the publisher will request another manuscript in the series and the author, if they haven’t anticipated this development, will get to work on the next book.

That’s the theory. Now sometimes, not enough people purchase copies, and not enough money is made, and the publisher gently (most of the time) informs the author that the upcoming novel will be the last in the series, and thanks for your time and effort. If you get a new idea, ask your agent to let us know.

(Just as an aside: There are no new ideas. There are twists on old ideas and if it’s a novel – you should pardon the expression – enough idea, it seems new. But it’s not.)

So as Good Lieutenant was in process – that is, when I had submitted the draft but before all the editing and revising had been done – the publisher let me know, yes, gently, that this was the end of the line for Sandy et al. That was considerate, as I still had time to revise the manuscript and wrap up some storylines that otherwise would have been left dangling with no resolution.

It's six books and out for the Jersey Girl, and while I’m sorry to let her go, she had a good run. I’m proud of the books and glad that some readers have let me know they enjoyed the experience.

When I’m writing a series, I usually make each installment just a little more personal for the main character, and since I had started (Inherit the Shoes) with Sandy defending a client she didn’t know, but who ended up being her longstanding boyfriend a couple of books later (Spoiler! Sorry!) it made sense that she should finish by defending the character she most respects and from whom she craves the same kind of respect, Lt. K.C. Trench.

In Good Lieutenant, Trench calls Sandy at home to tell her he’s in custody, accused of fatally shooting another LAPD detective, one who Trench admits to having despised. There are good reasons for despising him, but Trench insists he didn’t kill the other cop. Problem: The bullet found in the victim matches Trench’s gun, which he keeps locked in a safe at home when he’s not on duty.

Trench, who plays his cards very close to the vest, cooperates with his defense team (mostly Sandy) but not that much. He doesn’t like to discuss emotion of personal business, and for Trench, this case if extremely personal. But he can’t investigate it, and that’s making him crazy.

But I’m not here to give you the whole plot of Good Lieutenant. Suffice it to say that Sandy’s life is threatened, her office vandalized, and her stuffed teddy bear destroyed. But that just makes her mad.

No, I’m here today (and thank you for inviting me, Reds!) to explain how I did not choose to end the Jersey Girl series. I don’t blame the publisher, a company that’s been very good to me and with whom I will publish again (two books in 2025). It is a business, and they are trying to turn a profit.

So what I’m saying is, do not ask for whom the series ends. Not enough readers heard about, were interested in, or bought the books, and that doesn’t look good on Severn House’s bottom line.

It ends for thee.

(I’m not really blaming you or any other reader for this; seriously. But how could I pass up a closing line like that one?)

 

E.J. Copperman exists in someone’s twisted imagination. E.J. authors the Jersey Girl Legal Mystery series, currently represented by Good Lieutenant, and the Fran and Ken Stein series (get it?), which will continue next year with Switcheroo. A new series will start around this time next year, but that gives me time to tell you about it later. There are a bunch of other series, too, but you know, not enough of those sold so…

Don’t blame me for being passive aggressive. I have a Jewish mother.

Copperman's Travels by E.J. Copperman (No. It's not about traveling.)

 One lucky commentor will win a copy of WITNESS FOR THE PERSECUTION by E.J. Copperman!

 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Our friend E.J. Copperman (aka Jeff Cohen) is a fan favorite here, in part because his books always leave you laughing. And honestly we can all use more laughter these days, right? Today, he's celebrating the publication of his third Jersey Girl Legal Mystery, WITNESS FOR THE PERSECUTION, about which Publishers Weekly said, "Vibrant characters, a suitably complicated plot, sparkling dialogue, plenty of laughs, and some shrewd observations on L.A. and the film industry make for a rollicking good time. Copperman knows how to entertain." (That's a starred review, btw.) 

Along with his books, what else is guaranteed to give you a laugh? Jeff's going to tell us.

In the 1941 Preston Sturges classic Sullivan’s Travels, a director of film comedies wants to break into the serious side and make a Statement with his next film, O Brother Where Art Thou, a title the Coen Brothers borrowed some 59 years later. He thinks that an artist shouldn’t be demeaning himself with silly antics and should be improving the world with his Art.

Suffice it so say he goes through some things to reach the conclusion that maybe laughter isn’t such a bad calling after all. (If you haven’t seen the movie, stop reading right now and go watch it.)

I’ve been going through something a little like that lately, on a much smaller scale. Comical mystery novels are, let’s say, not the most respected branch of the library, and after 20 years (give or take a month) in the biz it tends to get to a writer. So I thought maybe I should be thinking about the bigger picture. Make a statement. Not forgo the jokes necessarily, but have more of a point.

 

Luckily I got over that particular neurosis fast enough and so the third Jersey Girl Legal Mystery, Witness For the Persecution, was published… let me check here… Tuesday. And it has little on its mind other than to get you hooked and hopefully make you laugh while you’re guessing whodunnit. Or even if anyone dunnit.

But that did make me think about the past two years and how difficult they’ve been for virtually every human on the planet. Has comedy been enough to get us through it? I can only speak for myself, and my experience has not been nearly as horrific as others’, but I have a much lower tolerance for Serious than I did before, and I didn’t have that much before.

If I don’t see something funny at least once a day, I start to get the bends. It’s not a pretty picture.

So here are some works of art (small “a”) that have helped get me to today. Maybe you’d like to take a look yourself, or suggest something else that might lighten our mental loads. I’ll be watching the comments.

The Marx Brothers. They’re pretty much my religion. I don’t put on a Marx movie as often as I want to, but that’s only because I live with other people who are, in the eyes of society, more normal than I am. If you’re only watching one I’d recommend any of the last three Paramount features: Monkey Business, Horse Feathers or Duck Soup. The laughs never stop. Except when Harpo sits down to play that stupid harp. (If you have no tolerance for the harp, go with Duck Soup.)

Ted Lasso. Yes. The feel-good show of the pandemic. But it’s also hilarious. The characters of Roy Kent and Coach Beard alone are good for at least five out-loud laughs per half hour. The fact that the show has uplift and characters who are legitimately trying to do the right thing is icing on the cake. And I love icing. Although I’ve been told recently that icing and frosting are not the same thing.

Mel Brooks movies. Start with Young Frankenstein. It’s as close to perfect as a comedy film has ever been (even with a couple of scenes that are… um… less woke than they might be. But always in a good cause. The cast is actually perfect; no one else could have done any of the roles as well. Then move on to The Producers – the original, not the musical, which was great onstage and not fabulous on film – and if you aren’t easily offended, Blazing Saddles. There are plenty more but that’s enough to start.

30 Rock. If you’re not averse to seeing Alec Baldwin these days, check it out. The comedy is so off-kilter that there’s really not much else like it, and all the characters have a heart. It’s just that sometimes you need to look a little harder for it. That Tina Fey has a future in comedy, I think.

Schitt’s Creek. The Ted Lasso of 2020. The first season, I’ll grant you, takes a while to find its voice and its heart, but once you hit the episode where Eugene Levy actually defends Chris Elliott, it’s all pure pleasure from there. Funny and touching.

Galaxy Quest. It’s not just for Star Trek fans, but it treats them with respect. The wonderful ensemble cast is playing, well, an ensemble cast of a TV space opera that went off the air quite some time ago, but is picked up by actual ETs who have seen their show and think it’s a documentary. They need help with an intergalactic bad guy. What could go wrong? The characters aren’t just types and the pacing is excellent. You’ll forget your troubles for a while.

His Girl Friday. I don’t know who it was, but someone at RKO took a look at the classic stage and film satire The Front Page and realized exactly what was wrong with it. They changed the reporter leaving to get married into Rosalind Russell, then hired Cary Grant to be her unreasonable editor trying to keep her from bolting, and in a stroke of genius decided they were a divorced couple who really wanted to get back together. The dialogue comes at lightning speed and don’t for a second sleep on silent-film stalwart Billy Gilbert, who shows up in two scenes and steals the movie, proving he can be hilarious talking, too.

My Favorite Year. Co-written by psychologist and mystery author Dennis Palumbo, this could fall under the category of Mel Brooks-adjacent movies. Brooks’ company produced this hilarious fictionalized memoir of his time on Your Show of Shows shepherding somewhat troublesome guest Errol Flynn, here in the guise of “Alan Swann,” played with great relish by Peter O’Toole, one of the many Oscars he should have won. With a stellar comedy supporting cast including Selma Diamond, who actually wrote on Your Show of Shows.

I could go on. But I’d like to hear your suggestions for the next time life is overwhelming me. Where should I turn for a badly-needed laugh? 

You can find out more about EJ Copperman/ Jeff Cohen and WITNESS FOR THE PERSECUTION at his website. You can also friend him on Facebook and follow him on Twitter as @ejcop.

Bugs Bunny's Critique of Pure Reason; a guest blog by Jeff Cohen and EJ Copperman

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Usually, when we have a guest who writes as part of a team, we like to explore how the dynamic works. Since Jeff Cohen is collaborating with E.J. Copperman, who is... Jeff Cohen... I'm not going to ask. I don't want to disturb the delicate balance.

We have several prolific writers here at Jungle Reds who produce two to three books a year, including Jenn McKinlay, Rhys Bowen, and Edith Maxwell. I can, however, honestly state none of them has ever released books in two different series on the same day. Thank heavens, we always say writers aren't competing against one another. I hope your monthly book budget runs to more than one purchase, because you're going to want to get both BIRD, BATH AND BEYOND and THE QUESTION OF THE DEAD MISTRESS from two of the funniest cozy mystery writers around.

At a conference recently I was asked (as authors occasionally are) to name my influences. And I always cringe at the question because the artists who actually have influenced me had virtually nothing to do with the kind of thing I have ended up writing. My influences are not Agatha Christie, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett or Tony Hillerman. I admire the work of each of those masters, but they didn’t set me on any path other than to want to read more of their books.

When I was writing a Capstone project for my master’s degree about six years ago (a non-mystery novel that was never published, possibly for good reason) I was required to list in the bibliography works that had influenced my thinking for the project and my style in writing it. Mostly I lied. I brought up Cicero and Kierkegaard and Kant, for goodness’ sake, all of whom I had read strictly for courses in the master’s program and have completely forgotten about since.

The conference panel at which I was asked the question was about writing books in the mystery genre that are also (hopefully) funny. So I finally felt comfortable uttering the one name that really has had an influence on my writing since I picked up a crayon in second grade. The one artist whose style I might not have directly emulated, but who definitely has had an impact on every work I’ve ever written.

That’s right. Bugs Bunny.

Bugs is a demon, a wiseguy, the kind of comic nuisance you’d never want to face as an adversary. But he never punches down. That is, he doesn’t use his lethal wit on anyone who hasn’t directly come after him. He doesn’t attack the defenseless or the weak—he only makes fun of those who deserve it.

I’ve always tried to create characters who follow the same code. They’re smart and funny, but they don’t ridicule anyone who isn’t flat-out asking for it. I have two books that were published on October 9 (it’s a long story, and it gives me headaches, so don’t ask), and their main characters are very different, but they hold to the code.

Kay Powell, the main character in BIRD, BATH AND BEYOND, is a theatrical agent whose clients are all animals. The non-human kind. In this, the second book in the series, she’s representing a parrot who might be the only witness to a murder. And Kay, a showbiz kid who left the act to get a law degree and become an agent, runs into a lot of people who think the bird should just speak up and name the killer.

She hears that from police detectives and reporters. To the cops she explains what is and is not possible with parrots. To the reporters, whom she sees as crass leeches trying to destroy her privacy, she’s slightly less patient.

So she tries to defuse the situation:

“Is this going live to any of your affiliates?”

“Yes!” a couple of the reporters yelled out.

It was a pity. Because I didn’t want to get in trouble with the FCC, my planned two-word statement was not going to be usable.

Samuel Hoenig, on the other hand, is not trying to be a rapier wit. Samuel, who is the narrator of THE QUESTION OF THE DEAD MISTRESS (also published October 9, and it’s still a good policy not to ask me why), has an autism-spectrum disorder and answers questions for a living. When a woman asks whether her husband is having an affair with his college sweetheart, who happens to be dead, Samuel does not try to ridicule her motives. But he doesn’t understand them.

“I do not expect any payment from you, Ms. Fontaine,” I said. “And you may rest assured that any client who walks through that door will get my full attention and an accurate answer to his or her question. In your case the answer was so obvious that it seemed foolish to continue with the interview. No. Your husband is not having an affair with his dead girlfriend.”

“I’m going to ask you again,” Virginia said. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because it is physically impossible for a living man to have a mutual relationship with a dead person,” I said, marveling at the idea that I even had to point out such an obvious fact.

They approach things differently. Samuel isn’t trying to make you laugh; it wouldn’t occur to him to do that. Kay uses humor to deflect and get the upper hand. But neither one of them will take advantage of someone weak or unfortunate.

It’s Bugs Bunny as a philosophy. You can keep your Kierkegaard.

E.J.Copperman writes a bunch of mystery series, but the two coming out on the SAME DAY in October are BIRD, BATH AND BEYOND in the Agent to thePaws series and THE QUESTION OF THE DEAD MISTRESS in the Asperger’sMystery series.

By the way, one of the most moving, affecting things I’ve read recently was a column by @MaineMillenial. https://www.pressherald.com/2018/09/16/the-maine-millennial-im-sharing-my-dad-with-the-world/

JULIA: Thank you for the shout out for the Smithie, Jeff! Readers, you can learn more about Jeff Cohen at his web site, and also friend him on Facebook and follow him on Twitter as @JeffCohenWriter. E.J. Copperman, who is on Twitter as @ejcop, also has a web site and a blog, SLICED BREAD.

Father's Day, a guest post and give-away by E.J. Copperman

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know one of our absolute favorites is Jeff Cohen. I mean, E.J. Copperman. Copperman, the bestselling author of the Haunted Guesthouse series, has just debuted The Mysterious Detective Mysteries with WRITTEN OFF, a funny and fantastical book that you will love, which I know, because I loved it, and I have excellent taste. Here's the synopsis:

Rachel Goldman writes mysteries in which Duffy Madison, consultant to the county prosecutor’s office, helps find missing persons. Rachel is busy finishing up her next book, when a man calls out of the blue asking for help in a missing persons case. The caller's name? Duffy Madison.

Is this real or has she lost her mind? She doesn't have much time to find out because a serial killer is on the loose, kidnapping and murdering mystery authors. And Rachel may just be the next target.

Of course, Copperman being Jeff Copperman, this guest blog isn't about WRITTEN OFF. Instead, it's a meditation on... well, you'll see.

(Photo by Cathy Cole of Kittling: Books)

The recent post from Julia’s youngest (which I thought was touching and adorable and smart and insightful and other glowing adjectives I don’t often use) got me to thinking. I once interviewed my own youngest on the trials and tribulations of growing up with a midlist author and some of the answers surprised me. Julia’s and Youngest’s experience is different of course, but the idea of having a parent whose occupation is different resonated for me.

My mother was, until I was almost ready for college, what would now be called a stay-at-home mom. As a role model, this came in somewhat handy when I was the work-at-home dad (some people called me a stay-at-home dad or even worse, “Mr. Mom”), but my role model for work was my father, and he didn’t have that unusual a job at all.

My father owned a store that sold paint and wallpaper in Newark, NJ. He was out of the house in time to open the store at six in the morning and stayed there until six in the evening, and his only day off was Sunday.

He made sure that the hours he worked didn’t make my brother and me feel like he was a visitor. He was our dad the second he walked in that door and even though he had to go to sleep early for the next day, he made sure we were the center of his universe.

Occasionally one or the other of us (whichever, I’m sure, had been driving my mother crazy more that week) would be told he would be accompanying my father to his business that Saturday to “help in the store.” I don’t know about my brother, but I was definitely not that much help. Dad just liked to have us around and I loved seeing his world.

We’d get up at the crack of dawn (pretty much literally) and head down to my grandparents’ house, which happened to be next door, for breakfast. This was a treat since my grandparents were among the most loving and amiable people I knew, and even though they were always within walking distance, it was a rarity for one of the grandchildren to have them both to himself. Much attention was lavished.

Then it was off to Newark and West Market Street where the painters would gather in the early morning to stock up for the day’s work and mostly to hang around and joke with each other. I was too young to join in but the men (they were all men) would notice the little (and I mean that literally) boy in the room, clean up their acts and play to the audience. They made me feel like part of the club.

When the 1967 riots flared in Newark, my father went to his store because that’s what he did. But when he saw the violence headed in his direction he closed up and came home. The next day he found his store untouched on a block of devastation. Locals had taken bars of soap and written, “SOUL BROTHER” on the plate glass window at the front.

But the area was getting difficult for the business and the new University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey needed some space for a parking lot. My father sold the building and moved the store closer to where we lived. “Helping out in the store” became something I could walk to, so I did it after school.

One day when I was about 13 or 14 I was in the back of the building, probably having a soda, when a woman walked into the store. It wasn’t often we got walk-in business from “civilians” but in this case my father looked at me and said, “Go take care of her.”

I don’t remember anything about the transaction, but I thought it went okay. When the woman walked out again I returned to the “office” in the back (it was a desk and a chair). I didn’t say a word.

My father, the kindest and gentlest man I have ever met, looked at me and said, “Don’t ever go into retail.”

So I didn’t. The man knew his business.

That didn’t have anything to do with WRITTEN OFF, the book of mine that is being published this week, in which a mystery author is confronted with a living version of her protagonist and pulled into a missing person investigation, but I just wanted to tell you about my dad.

After all, I’m a Youngest, myself.

JULIA: Dear Readers: did you learn about work from your dad? Your grandfather? Uncle Bob?  Join us in the back-blog for conversation, and one lucky commentor will win a $50 gift certificate to one of Jeff's Copperman's favorite independent bookstores, Murder By The Book in Houston, Texas. (Yes, they ship, so you don't have to live in the Lone Star state to win!) 

E.J.Copperman is the author of the Haunted Guesthouse mystery series and the co-author with Jeff Cohen of the Asperger’s Mystery series. On June 14 E.J. unveils the Mysterious Detective Mystery series in which a crime fiction author is confronted by the flesh-and-blood incarnation of her fictional sleuth. You can read more about E.J. Copperman and Jeff Cohen at their web sites; follow them on Twitter at @ejcop and @JeffCohenWriter; and friend them on Facebook. Copperman blogs at Sliced Bread, while Cohen can be found at Hey, There's a Dead Guy in the Living Room (a fabulous blog that's been around as long as the Jungle Reds!)

No Laughing Matter, a guest post by Jeff Cohen and E.J. Copperman

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Most of you know by now that Jeff Cohen (and his elusive counterpart, E.J. Copperman) is a good friend of mine. What you may not know is that Jeff is also very close to my husband, Ross. They didn't bond over baseball - as respectively serious Yankees and Red Sox fans, it's surprising they haven't come to blows yet - instead, they connected over autism.

In the years since Ross started teaching special ed, he had seen a yearly rise in the number of kids diagnosed with autism and Asperger's syndrome (now redefined as autism spectrum disorder.) Ross had been attending continuing education classes on the subject and doing lots and lots of reading on the side. His experience influenced my third novel, where the mother of an autistic son refuses to have her younger child vaccinated.

Meanwhile, Jeff and his wife were raising their son Josh, who has Asperger's syndrome. (Autism spectrum disorder. Thanks a lot, DSM-5.) Not finding much out there in the early 2000s, Jeff wrote two well-regarded non-fiction books for Asperger parents and included an Asperger's kid in his Aaron Tucker comedic mystery series. Which Ross read for one of his classes, which he then passed on to me, which meant when I first met Jeff at the 2003Malice Domestic, I could tell him honestly that I had read his book and liked it. When Ross finally met him the next year, the two immediately began a conversation about autism. (NOT baseball, as the Yankees had beaten the Red Sox out of the World Series spot at the end of the previous season.)

When Jeff and Ross get together nowadays, they don't spend as much time talking shop - the autism spectrum kids in Ross's school are well-integrated into the programs, and Josh is a graduate of Drexel University's film and video program, looking for a full-time job like approximately 800,000 other twenty-five-year-olds.

But Jeff hasn't stopped writing about autism. He and the pseudonymous E.J. Copperman, author of the Haunted Guesthouse series, started the Asperger's Mystery series last year with The Question of the Missing Head, which Publisher's Weekly called "delightful and clever" and which contains the line “Who stole one of our frozen heads?” In his latest mystery, The Question of the Unfamiliar Husband, Samuel Hoening, proprietor of Questions Answered ("nothing like a detective agency") is called upon to answer the question, "Who is the man in my bed who calls himself my husband?”

Autism is no joke.

The numbers are staggering. Now it’s estimated that one in every 44 children born in America has behaviors that would identify somewhere on the autism spectrum. That’s a huge statistic. And the behaviors range from some mild social anxieties to an inability to communicate and beyond. There are so many shades of color on the autism spectrum that a rainbow is far too inadequate a metaphor.

But I/we write books I’m hoping will make people laugh, and in the Asperger’s mystery series (astonishingly about to continue with The Question of the Unfamiliar Husband), the narrator and central character has a form of autism called Asperger’s syndrome. Although he doesn’t have that at all because the American Psychological Association has decided there is no such thing as Asperger’s syndrome. So obviously Samuel Hoenig is cured and we need to change the name of the series.

Glad we cleared that right up.

Anyway, until the APA made its decision last year, Samuel had Asperger’s, and he was diagnosed with it when he was in his teens. He’s now in his early 30s, I believe, although I’d have to go back to the series bible to be absolutely sure, and you don’t want me to have to do that, do you?

I didn’t think so.

The point is, autism is not a laughing matter. Families are strained (and in some cases destroyed) by it, people who have it can experience innumerable difficulties and suffer anything from slights at school to clinical depression because of their differences. It is something that requires serious thought and consideration, research and empathy. Autism is not something to laugh at.

That presents something of a problem when trying to write a funny book with a narrator who has a form of autism (no matter what they’re calling it this week). But it’s important in the Asperger’sMystery series never to make fun of Samuel’s autism. Under no circumstances would that ever happen.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with the way some people react to Samuel’s autism.

The comedy in that series is to see how some characters will respond when Samuel insists on conducting an interview while striding the circumference of his office, thrusting his arms above his head and trying to work up a sweat. His regiment insists on exercise every twenty minutes during the working day, and nothing will dissuade Samuel from that activity. So I let him go and watch the other characters as he races around the room. Their reactions are (hopefully) funny. His “eccentricity” is not.

Samuel also notices idioms and turns of phrase that many of us take for granted and wonders either what they mean or why they came to be at all. Tell a person with Asperger’s (see previous parenthetical expression re: name of disorder) you’re “just pulling their leg,” and you’ll almost certainly be asked why someone would want to do such a thing.

The Asperger’s books are not intended to be joke machines, like some previous series I’ve written (and future ones I might write). Samuel’s point of view is the focus, not being hilarious. But if you think I’m going to deliver a serious, dark, depressing view of a man with a tragic disorder, you have come to the wrong place.

Samuel doesn’t think his little corner of the autism spectrum is a jail cell; he believes it to be his own haven from the madness that goes on around him (that’s most of us). While not an unrealistically upbeat or saccharine kind of guy, he will not wallow in self-pity. Frankly, he believes most people act in ridiculous, borderline psychotic fashions.

And if you read the daily newspaper, it’s hard to argue with him.

E.J. Copperman/Jeff Cohen, either or both, write(s) the Asperger’s Mystery series, which continues (from The Question of the Missing Head) on October 8 with The Question of the UnfamiliarHusband. It might make you laugh. But not at autism.

You can find out more about the Asperger's Mystery series, and read excerpts, at E.J. Copperman's website. You can also peruse his blog, Sliced Bread,  friend him on Facebook, and follow him on Twitter as @ejcop. You can explore all of Jeff Cohen's books at his website, friend him on Facebook, and follow him on Twitter as @jeffcohenwriter. Jeff also blogs at There's a Dead Guy in the Living Room, which, along with Jungle Red Writers, is one of the longest-running mystery blogs on the internet.