Cozy fiction is still on the rise, and I’m here for it. The more hectic life gets, the more appealing it becomes to read stories about likeable characters just kind of living their lives and vibing without any clear stakes or massive conflicts to deal with. That lack of a clear plotline is supposed to be storytelling poison according to conventional wisdom, but I’m happy to learn I’m not the only weirdo who has been liking books that my high school English teachers would have had a fit over.