Category Archives: reader

Mysteries Continue to Thrill

Posted on by


The mystery genre has retained its popularity over the years. Whether a classic “whodunit,” a cozy, a police procedural, or some new hybrid of mystery/suspense plus fantasy, sci-fi or horror, crime fiction still draws a strong audience of readers.

Surveyed for Library Journal’s annual round-up of trends in the mystery genre, more than half of the 232 librarians polled say mysteries are the most popular book genre they offer, as measured by circulation, shelf-space—accounting for almost a quarter of their print fiction materials—and e-collections, making up more than 20% of libraries’ ebooks.

While e-collections are growing (and most publishers have finally agreed to sell ebooks to libraries now), which e-mysteries they buy depends heavily on patron demand and costs. Ebook purchases are now about 6% of libraries’ acquisitions budgets, up from 1% three years ago.

“E-books aren’t the future of mystery, they’re the present,” said Soho Press publisher Bronwen Hruska. They accounted for two-thirds of the sales of the Soho Crime imprint in 2012 and half or more of sales by another mystery publisher, Minotaur. Sisters in Crime’s recent interviews with publishers revealed that while e-books are “the fastest growth sector for publishing revenues,” the effect on income—publishers’ or authors’—is not yet clear.

Amazon’s heavy promotion of low price-point books for the Kindle through various deals and free offerings has helped even a few new writers achieve electronic sales that outsell print. An example is when Leonard Rosen’s debut thriller, All Cry Chaos, was picked as a Kindle Book of the Day and sold 7,000 electronic copies and 4,000 print.

Presumably, it helps to write a good book, too. But quality—good or bad—isn’t a guarantee of sales numbers when so many books are free or $.99.

The Changing Publishing Scene

Posted on by

Writers—and some readers, too—are worried about the massive shifts in the publishing industry, including whether it will be possible to make a living as a serious writer for very much longer, not that it was ever very easy, and what making authorhood impossible means for the diversity of ideas in the cultural marketplace.

My professional organization, Sisters in Crime (it’s worth joining just to be able to say that!), recently released a new report on the state of publishing, based on expert interviews with 15 individuals involved, in various ways, in the industry. They asked about books in general and mysteries/suspense/thrillers in particular. The experts they talked to echoed the rather gloomy predictions heard for the last couple of years regarding the challenges the industry faces.

Given the difficulty new writers have being published, many are advised to go-it-alone. But “understand the risks,” one prominent agent said. Yes, it’s easy to self-publish with today’s technology, but publishing does not necessarily lead to sales and income for the writer. Because about 300,000 print titles and an almost uncountable number of ebooks are published each year—think of it as a thousand new books a day—the necessity for and burden of promotion and marketing are enormous. Accomplishing this shifts the emphasis entirely onto the self in self-publishing.

The few self-published books that have achieved financial success have encouraged many more writers to try to follow in those footsteps, creating such a rising level of background noise level, even excellent books go unnoticed.

The implications of the rise of e-books has yet to sort itself out. And, because of a number of economic pressures on publishers, the bar for new authors is constantly being raised. Worse, publishers aren’t interested in mid-list authors—“they want bestsellers.” Authors want to write bestsellers, too, but most won’t. The Great Gatsby sold poorly when it was first published in 1925, but now it is one of the most highly-ranked English-language novels of the 20th century (second-highest in the Modern Library’s list after Ulysses.) As of today it ranks #10 in Amazon’s bestsellers’ list, 4th among novels. For authors whose publishers aren’t banking on returns 88 years into the future, the emphasis on bestsellers is a problem.

The one bright spot for writers of mysteries is that the genre retains its popularity in this fast-changing environment. Mysteries account for 24 percent of ebook sales, though only 15 percent of the dollars, which means their prices are discounted compared to other books. Mysteries are 21 percent of library ebook collections and 24 percent of their print collections. And “cozy mysteries,” that less-sex-and-gore subgenre perfected by Agatha Christie and still practiced by many authors today are actually increasing in popularity.

Exploring Further:

“The Slow Death of the American Author” – Scott Turow’s recent, widely circulated lamentation in the New York Times

Sisters in Crime – membership organization promoting the professional development and advancement of women crime writers

The Modern Library’s lists of 100 best novels; one list selected by its board and one by readers

Cozy Mysteries Unlimited – website for cozy fans

Chichi’s Magic and the Books of Childhood

Posted on by

My namesake’s third birthday is coming up on Valentine’s Day, and when thinking about a gift, I thought back to the presents I enjoyed as a child. Books, same as now. First to come to mind was Chichi’s Magic, about a mischievous monkey (is there any other kind?) in the Central American jungle who finds a mirror—the magic. My uncle worked for The Steck Company, a commercial printing firm that served banks, schools, and the like, but also published a series of children’s books called “Woodland Frolics,” and Chichi’s Magic was one of them. Part of the joy of the book was that it came from him. Possessed by nostalgia, I ordered the book from ALibris. It arrived. I flipped through it, loving the pictures, but hesitated to read it again. Maybe it wouldn’t be as charming as I remembered. What I do remember now seems so fragmentary and idiosyncratic. Chichi wanders the countries of Central America. I learned their names. Chichi encounters ancient Mayan ruins, which laid the foundation for a lifelong fascination with pre-Columbian civilizations. Chichi encounters a beautiful green quetzal—a strange word for a fourth-grader—and I recall its extravagant tail. But the book is clearly too advanced for the birthday girl, so will be lovingly saved until she’s older. Another book I hope to share with her is one I read many times, Heidi. I associate her with delicious goat’s milk cheese and the sweet aroma of spring flowers in alpine meadows. Still today it’s hard to resist a charming round cheese in the dairy case. I remember Heidi as the first time I was bothered by having pictures in a storybook, because the artist’s drawings did not match the vision in my head. Reading their books repeatedly, children acquire images and associations that in later life may take some digging to uncover. Hidden threads woven into the mental fabric.

Exploring Further: A blog post by another person who fell under the spell of Chichi’s Magic

Scholastic’s “Celebrity Bookprints,” where some 300 celebrities–from Bill Clinton to Mehmet Oz to R.L. Stine—describe the five books that have been most important to them.

The Reading Challenge

Posted on by

Books I read 002

Here’s a resolution for 2013 that I haven’t broken yet: to read all the books in the pile on the left. The pile on the right comprises books read in 2012—not counting more than a dozen audio books and Mr. X, courtesy of the West Windsor Library. The number of notable books from last year near the top of the unread pile (holiday gifts) suggests I’m way behind. And some of the books near the bottom are carryovers from 2012. I hadn’t counted on needing to read 2000 pages of Dickens for my class last fall! If you’re wondering which were my favorites, they were Hilary Mantel’s Bring up the Bodies—those Tudors are irresistible—and two nonfiction volumes: Counterstrike and In the Garden of Beasts. (The latter, by Erik Larson, startlingly echoed the plot and characters in Herman Wouk’s 1971 novel, The Winds of War, which I happened to be listening to at the same time, all 46 hours of it. Although the novel begins shortly before the Nazi invasion of Poland—six years after the period covered in Larson’s book—they are probably hopelessly muddled in my mind. It would be interesting to learn whether the diplomatic family Larson portrays figured into Wouk’s planning, even if fictional daughter Madeline did not go as seriously off the rails as real-life Martha Dodd.) These favorites aside, audio books provided my most enjoyable “reading” experiences this year: The Lotus Eaters, State of Wonder, The Submission, and the truly thrilling Macbeth: A Novel. I’ve recommended that last one endlessly. Despite all the words that have passed through my brain via eyes and ears, picking up a new book is still exciting. It may hold a character to love or despise; it may offer a memorable phrase or insight or image, whose creativity I can strive to emulate. My stack of 29 books is paltry beside the average goal of 61 books that participants in the Goodreads 2013 Reading Challenge have resolved to read. I note that 32 challenge participants have already met their reading goal for the year, which must have been one book or, possibly, none. That may be an easy resolution for them to keep. Not for me.

Mystery or Thriller?

Posted on by

Is this book in my hand a mystery or a thriller? Not until I started writing stories myself did I run up against the startling realization that a lot of the books I liked best—starting with Frederick Forsyth’s Icon—were not mysteries at all. They were “thrillers,” “suspense.” To me, they were just exciting books that kept me turning pages. Think Silence of the Lambs. Think Reamde. Think The Little Drummer Girl.

Oh. So? People who have actually gone to the trouble of analyzing the differences between these two genres can present quite a list of them, along with which go different reader expectations. Looking back, the short stories on my publications list (this website) were all mysteries—puzzles—especially “Evidence” and “Premeditation.” I’ve also written a novel—Witness—and it’s definitely a thriller. In writing it, I fell into thriller mode automatically.

What is the difference? Carolyn Wheat in her excellent How to Write Killer Fiction (a title that tells you these are words to live by) describes “the funhouse of mystery” and “the roller coaster of suspense.” Readers of a classic mystery identify with the detective—from a professional like Harry Bosch to an amateur busybody like Miss Marple—who is attempting to solve someone else’s problems, usually a murder or two. We readers follow “two steps behind,” Wheat says, as our detective gathers and analyzes evidence and tries to figure out who the bad guys are.

In suspense novels, the main problems belong to the main characters. They’re the ones in danger, who must figure out how to save their own lives even as they may be saving others, too, of course. Jason Bourne. Jack Ryan. We know who the bad guys are and what the threat is, because the author has shown them at work. As a result, we typically know more than the hero, and are actually two steps ahead. We’re thinking, “Don’t take that call,” “Take that call!” and “Don’t trust that guy,” and “Don’t go into the British Embassy wearing that electric blue sequined dress and that Tina Turner wig and think you can pass as a legitimate party guest,” we telepathically yell at Whoopi Goldberg in Jumpin’ Jack Flash.

Detectives, like tv’s Inspector Lewis, have legendary ability to see through layers of disinformation and assemble logical pictures from the slimmest clues, clues equally available to us, as readers, but whose significance the author has deftly obscured. The writer’s challenge is to present all those clues without either giving away the game on page 20 or being so obtuse the reader feels unfairly dealt with. In the end, every piece is in place, and the reader’s reward is the intellectual satisfaction of tidied loose ends.

By contrast, suspense heroes, even if they achieve their goals and avert World War III, may not make it out alive. Or not in very good shape, if they do. Daniel Craig’s James Bond needed recovery time at the end of Casino Royale. And his nemesis got away, to plague him yet another day. Still, our hero has prevailed, and the reader’s reward is the emotional satisfaction of that victory, even if it is temporary and we see another battle looming over the sequel horizon.

Immutability and the Endings of Stories

Posted on by

I’ve heard Peter Straub say the ending of one of his supernatural thrillers caused so much reader clamor to know what happened to one of the characters, he capitulated and added another chapter. Having just read his Mr. X, I think he must have meant that particular book, and the short final chapter that’s tacked on addresses but doesn’t answer the question his readers posed.

Two of my recent reads—Mr. X and Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin—share the same mystery—who is the narrator? As we read along, who is telling us this story? In the end, Atwood answers the question, which the reader has perhaps suspected, but Straub raises it in that brief final chapter, calling into question everything that has gone before. If such a fundamental and seemingly straightforward narrative issue can be uncertain, how many of our other assumptions about “what’s going on” in a book are up for grabs?

It’s a testament to the writer’s ability to make us care about a story’s characters that sometimes we wrestle with these assumptions long after the last page, the last scene. No matter how many times I’ve seen West Side Story, I still hope unreasonably that Chino won’t appear with his gun. Reading Anna Karenina provokes the same reaction. Or Hamlet. But it is not to be. (One question resolved, anyway.)

At the last moment, Charles Dickens changed the ending of Great Expectations, one of his best-known and most-read novels, with a scene that offered a happier prospect, but one probably less true to everything that went before. He made the change on the advice of Edward Bulwer-Lytton—a popular 19th c. author, best-known today, alas, for opening his novel Paul Clifford with “It was a dark and stormy night,” and the eponymous annual contest “to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels.”

What story’s ending would you change, if you could? What else would have to change to make your ending possible? And do you soon find yourself in a hopeless tangle of unintended consequences like poor Jake Epping trying to change events in Stephen King’s 11/22/63?

Endings and the Reader’s Imagination

Posted on by

“I wished it would never end.” How many times have readers said that as they closed their book with a sigh. I’ve caught myself reading slower and slower over the last few pages of a book I’ve loved, just to delay the inevitable!

For a class on Dickens I’m taking this fall, I just reread A Tale of Two Cities. At the end, the travelling coach carrying Lucie and her daughter, Doctor Manette, Mr. Lorry, and the unconscious Sidney Carton speeds away from Paris in its desperate escape. We know that the unconscious man is really Lucie’s husband Charles and that Carton has taken his place in the tumbrils headed for the guillotine. I waited in vain for identity of the slumbering man to be recognized, for Charles to wake up and realize he had been “recalled to life.”

But Dickens doesn’t give us that scene. He leaves us to imagine it. I can see amazement and joy mixing with horror and guilt when the realization finally comes to them, and they understand what Carton has done. What, in fact, he told Lucie he would do, some 200 pages earlier: “For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything.” I see Lucie’s misery, as she recognizes the implications of Carton’s vow and feel the unbearable weight of her promise to keep it secret.

My vision of that scene—and yours—is beyond the covers. Our own ending to solve and resolve.

Sunday we saw the new movie Argo. A lot in that movie takes place by inference. As in the real world, the participants don’t have complete information and neither does the viewer, though we have the benefit of some multiple perspectives. Glimpses of the treatment of the main body of hostages let us imagine the rest. Likewise, details of the escape of the Canadian ambassador and his wife, also in deadly peril, must be mostly created by the viewer.

Have you imagined final scenes involving the characters of stories you read, see, or listen to? Share!