Legally speaking, Peacock’s Poker Face isn’t a reboot of Columbo, the 1970s detective show that inverted the ubiquitous whodunit format by beginning each episode with the murder, then using the rest of the show to see how Lieutenant Columbo caught the criminal. But whatever legal technicalities that let the new show’s creator, Rian Johnson (best known for directing Knives Out), not buy the intellectual-property rights to Columbo are subtle. This version stars Natasha Lyonne as Charlie Cale, a casino waitress who can tell when people are lying. When the casino owner’s son (played by Adrien Brody) kills Cale’s friend, she quickly determines he’s to blame and punishes him, which prompts him to immediately commit suicide by jumping out of a window. This sets Cale on the run to avoid revenge from his father, played by Ron Perlman. A new murder kicks off every episode. (peacocktv.com) —Jensen Davis

We all know some version of this story: an elderly woman’s dementia throws her back into a love affair of decades past. On Christmas Eve in Bar Harbor, Maine, Miriam Caravasios once again slips out of her childhood home in the dead of night. She’s just a girl, and the love of her life, Theo, is still alive. He guides her out the door and onto the ice, heading toward their secret meeting place. They drift as if ghosts in the moonlight, but then fog and wind descend. Theo vanishes, Miriam re-emerges into her reality, and the ice breaks. That’s where Kat Rosenfield, an AIR MAIL contributor,begins You Must Remember This, her gothic-mystery novel. And what’s more gothic than a rich family battling for their dead mother’s inheritance? Rosenfield quickly asks whether Miriam’s tragic end was really so poetic after all. Did someone lure the 85-year-old out onto the ice? You’ll have to get to keep reading if you want to find out. ($23.19, harpercollins.com) —Clara Molot

The Swiss have perfected many things: luxury timepieces, closely guarded bank accounts, and cheese. I thought I had eaten my way through the third category, but I was delighted last week to discover a new variation: Tête de Moine. French for “monk’s head,” this cow’s-milk variety is nutty and rich—and perfect for entertaining not least because it doubles as a party trick. The cheese is served on a girolle (which us commoners just call a “cheese curler”). Guests will swarm the table to try their hand at shaving paper-thin, flower-shaped ribbons from the wheel. It will melt in your mouth and pairs nicely with Chablis. ($90, murraycheese.com) —Michael Pescuma

In the 1970s, as France started to lose its status as the leader of the contemporary-art scene to the United States, President Georges Pompidou came up with a radical idea. He wanted to construct a new, cutting-edge museum, which would be modern, inclusive, and house one of the country’s most significant art collections. On January 31, 1977, renowned architects Richard Rogers and Renzo Piano unveiled the Centre Pompidou, a building unlike any other, with its industrial elements, such as piping, shafts, and stairs, all entirely visible. In András Szántó’s latest book, 25 architects, including David Adjaye, Bjarke Ingels, and David Chipperfield, imagine art museums of the future. Original sketches and studio photographs accompany the text. How will technological advances, environmental changes, and ever evolving human sentiments inform these future projects? Who will construct the next Pompidou? ($28, amazon.com) —Elena Clavarino

A recent trip down to Charleston was meant to be a break from what’s lately felt like an ever shrinking orbit of regular haunts throughout my Manhattan neighborhood. The irony that I happened to check into the Dewberry hotel’s new and only John Derian–designed suite isn’t lost on yours truly. (Mr. Derian, an artist and designer best known for his distinctive decoupage pieces, has three side-by-side stores, mere blocks from my East Village apartment.) But for all the anachronistic wonders packed into these tiny shops, the suite itself practically transports—with far more space to maneuver, too. A life-size curiosity cabinet chockablock with naturalistic ephemera, vintage souvenirs, and nostalgic nods to the hotel’s former life as a federal office building, it recalls the storybook home of some well-traveled New Englander—precisely the sort of guy John Derian is. Southern or not, you’ll be charmed in every way. ($1,000 nightly; thedewberrycharleston.com) —Laura Neilson

Socks should not be terribly exciting, and trust me when I say that I was not especially chuffed to receive a pair of them as a Christmas gift from a highly discerning friend. But six weeks later, I am ordering more pairs from Shiro with abandon. This accessory brand, whose name means “white” in Japanese, only makes socks, but what socks they are! Sewn in Italy from hand-knit, midweight merino wool, they have a bit of elastane to keep a spring in one’s step. Warm without being suffocating, and thin without feeling flimsy, they look equally great with loafers and sneakers. They come in just four colors—soy milk, semolina, black, and vino (a dark cordovan)—and we love them for it. ($39 for a two-pack, shiro.com) —Ashley Baker