I was in 8th grade when I picked up my first mystery. I remember the aisle and the shelf. The book was a paperback. Like all the library mysteries, it had a bright sticker with the image of a magnifying glass and the word “Mystery” stuck to its spine. The author was Agatha Christie. I don’t remember which Christie it was, but dozens followed, and more mystery authors after that. What I do remember was the tantalizing feeling of escaping into those magical pages. I remember the excitement as the plot unfolded, the adventure, and my mounting suspicions as I approached the thrilling climax. Even then, I knew I’d found something wonderful; I’d discovered my favorite genre.