I've been in mystery mode since November, and probably will be for a while longer.
Apparently the "Golden Age" of mysteries stretched from 1920 to 1939 (according to Wikipedia), but Golden Ages don't end so much as fade away, and to me, these books feel like those by Agatha Christie and John Dickson Carr in that they use murder as a spring-board to light-hearted romps with a bit of comedy of manners thrown in.
In Bodies in a Bookshop by R. T. Campbell's Professor Stubbs helps his good friend Inspector Bishop to find the culprit. Not bad, amusing, but maybe the author was a bit too infatuated with hisr sleuth's eccentricities
Murder After Christmas by Rupert Latimer. Latimer's novel is one of the quirkiest and most consistently amusing mysteries I've read, dealing with a family of eccentrics who all seem afflicted with bad judgement complicated by an excess of discretion and civility. Really, Ealing Studios should have snatched this one up and filmed it.
The Widening Stain by W. Bolingbroke Johnson, pseudonym for Morris Bishop, educator best known for luring Vladimir Nabokov to Cornell University. Golden Age mystery set in a thinly disguised Cornell and written with something like the spirit of 1930's-'40s screwball comedies -- eccentrics exchanging bon mots and witticisms, with a few limericks tossed in -- this was extremely entertaining. A good lead in the chief cataloger, Gilda Gorham, and a range of oddball librarians, professors and adjuncts, with a slight tendency toward stereotyping.
I've been lucky so far this month. The Campbell was amusing, while the Latimer and Johnson/Bishop were among the most successfully comic crime novels I've read from the 1940s.