Mystery &
Detective.

A FIRST WORDWhat the genre is for.

The detective story is the only literary form in which the reader is officially permitted to enjoy a corpse. Its central labour is to make the disordered legible: to take a death, a deception, or an absence, and reorganise the world around it until the reader sees what was always there.

The pleasure has two competing centres of gravity. One is the puzzle — Christie, Carr, Sayers — in which the body in the library is a chess problem and the detective is the smarter player. The other is the mood — Hammett, Chandler, Highsmith — in which the crime is symptomatic of a corrupted social world, and the detective walks through it because someone has to.

This deck holds both in view. It traces the form from Edgar Allan Poe in 1841 through the British Golden Age, the American hard-boiled school, the postwar procedural, Patricia Highsmith's psychological suspense, the Scandinavian and Japanese reinventions, and the recent literary thrillers. At the end is a list of thirty essential cases.

CHAPTER IFair play.

In 1928 the American novelist S. S. Van Dine published Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories in The American Magazine. In 1929 the Detection Club, founded that year in London by Anthony Berkeley, formalised an oath in which incoming members — Christie, Sayers, Chesterton — swore to abjure "Divine Revelation, Feminine Intuition, Mumbo Jumbo, Jiggery-Pokery, Coincidence, or the Act of God." Father Ronald Knox compiled the same idea into a Decalogue.

What the rules want

The principle is fair play: the reader must, in theory, be able to solve the puzzle from the same evidence as the detective. The genre's central pleasure depends on this contract. Break it and the resolution is a cheat; observe it and the resolution is a small miracle of attention. Most of the rules are dated and parochial; the principle is not.

The hard-boiled school of Hammett and Chandler did not break the rules so much as walk away from the table. Their crimes are not puzzles to be solved but symptoms to be witnessed; the detective's job is moral testimony. The two impulses — fair-play puzzle, witnessing wanderer — divide the genre and recombine in every era since.

CHAPTER IIPoe invents the detective.

"The Murders in the Rue Morgue," published in Graham's Magazine in April 1841, is the first detective story. Edgar Allan Poe was thirty-two and barely making rent. The story introduces the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin: an impoverished aristocrat with a brilliant analytic mind who solves a locked-room horror — two women murdered in a Parisian apartment, no one entering or leaving — by reasoning his way to an orangutan. The trick is grotesque; the form is permanent.

Every move that survives in the genre is already in Poe's three Dupin tales. The narrator-companion who is not as smart as the detective. The locked-room puzzle. The official police who get it wrong. The deductive set-piece. "The Purloined Letter" (1844) supplies the most influential of all detective ideas: the thing hidden in plain sight. Poe wrote barely a thousand pages of the form and built it. Conan Doyle, who read him as a Scots schoolboy, said as much.

CHAPTER IIICollins · the first English detective novel.

Wilkie Collins was Dickens's friend, sometime collaborator, and rival in the new market for serial fiction. The Woman in White (1860) is the foundational sensation novel; The Moonstone (1868) is the first detective novel in English. The Moonstone is a yellow diamond looted from a Hindu temple by a British officer at Seringapatam in 1799, willed to a young woman, stolen from her bedroom on her birthday. Sergeant Richard Cuff of Scotland Yard is summoned. The book is told in eleven first-person narratives — butler, housekeeper, lawyer, lover, doctor — and resolved by a remarkable feat of deduction involving opium and human nature.

Everything later detective fiction does, The Moonstone already does: the country house, the closed circle of suspects, the failed police investigation, the multiple narrators, the false solution, the buried clue. It is also a serious novel about the British in India, which is to say about theft. Read it.

CHAPTER IVHolmes.

Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes is the most successful character in English popular literature, period. The first novel, A Study in Scarlet, appeared in Beeton's Christmas Annual in 1887; the last story, "The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place," was published in 1927. Sixty cases in forty years. Conan Doyle tried to kill Holmes off at Reichenbach Falls in 1893 and was not allowed to. The reading public threatened to cancel The Strand. He brought Holmes back in 1901.

Read Holmes for the form's perfection at short length. The novels are uneven; the stories are nearly all good and the best dozen are airtight. The essential collection is The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1892), particularly "A Scandal in Bohemia," "The Speckled Band," and "The Red-Headed League." The detective's apparatus — the Baker Street rooms, the violin, the cocaine, the deductive arrival, Watson, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, Moriarty — is the genre's most efficient working machine.

CHAPTER VThe Golden Age.

The British detective novel between the wars produced its most concentrated period of formal mastery. The country was, as W. H. Auden put it in his 1948 essay "The Guilty Vicarage," a place "ideally suited to murder": a closed Anglican village where everyone is known and the disruption can be contained and resolved. The Golden Age writers — Christie, Sayers, Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, Anthony Berkeley — perfected the closed-circle puzzle.

Dorothy L. Sayers's Lord Peter Wimsey series (1923–37) is the most literary of these; Gaudy Night (1935), set in a women's Oxford college, is also a serious novel about women and intellectual work. Margery Allingham's Albert Campion books grow stranger and better; The Tiger in the Smoke (1952) is genuinely menacing. Ngaio Marsh's Inspector Alleyn novels are workmanlike. Anthony Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case (1929) gives six different solutions to one crime — the genre's purest formal joke.

CHAPTER VIChristie.

Agatha Christie is the genre's greatest commercial mind and one of its three or four best technicians. Her plots are clockwork; her solutions are notorious for at least three structural inventions that no one had used before her and everyone has used since. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926) breaks the contract with the narrator. And Then There Were None (1939) executes ten characters on a closed island and gives the reader the murderer's confession only at the end. Murder on the Orient Express (1934) divides the guilt across the entire suspect pool.

Christie also wrote much, and much of it is competent rather than astonishing. The essential Poirot novels are Roger Ackroyd, Orient Express, Death on the Nile (1937), and Five Little Pigs (1942). The essential Marples are The Body in the Library (1942) and A Murder Is Announced (1950). Begin with And Then There Were None; it remains, by margin, her best novel and the bestselling crime novel ever published.

CHAPTER VIIThe locked-room puzzle.

The locked-room mystery — a body found in a sealed space no one could have entered or left — is the purest form of the genre's promise: an impossibility that turns out to be, on close inspection, a possibility. Poe invented it in 1841. John Dickson Carr, an American who lived most of his adult life in Britain, perfected it. Dr Gideon Fell, his obese and roaring detective, narrates seventy variations on the theme.

The "Locked Room Lecture" in The Three Coffins (1935) is one of the great formal set-pieces in genre fiction: Fell breaks the fourth wall, addresses the reader, and offers an exhaustive taxonomy of how the impossible may be made to look impossible. The novel itself is a worthy example. Read also Carr's The Crooked Hinge (1938) and his own favourite, The Burning Court (1937), in which the puzzle dissolves into something stranger.

CHAPTER VIIIFather Brown.

G. K. Chesterton's Father Brown is the genre's most theological detective: a small, shabby Roman Catholic priest who solves crimes not by ratiocination but by a doctrine of universal sympathy. Brown's method is to imagine his way into the criminal until he can think the criminal's thought. The doctrine is Augustinian; the method is uncanny.

The 53 stories were written between 1910 and 1936, collected into five volumes. The first, The Innocence of Father Brown (1911), contains the canonical examples: "The Blue Cross," "The Invisible Man," "The Sign of the Broken Sword," "The Secret Garden." The second, The Wisdom of Father Brown (1914), is nearly as good. Chesterton wrote them quickly, often for money. The form rewards him: the stories are paradoxical, lyrical, briefly profound, and never forget that the priest's interest is in souls and only secondarily in crimes.

CHAPTER IXThe hard-boiled school.

The American hard-boiled detective novel emerged in the 1920s out of the pulp magazine Black Mask, founded 1920 by H. L. Mencken and George Jean Nathan. Its central writers are Dashiell Hammett, who had been a Pinkerton operative, and Raymond Chandler, who had been an oil-company executive fired in 1932 for drinking. The style — Anglo-Saxon, present-tense, indifferent to ornament — is the inheritance of Hemingway and Hammett's own ear for working-class speech.

Hammett's five novels (1929–34) include Red Harvest, The Maltese Falcon, The Glass Key, and The Thin Man. Red Harvest (1929) is the bleakest American crime novel — a small Montana mining town in which the Continental Op cleans up by playing every faction against every other. Chandler's seven novels (1939–58), all featuring Philip Marlowe, are The Big Sleep, Farewell, My Lovely, The High Window, The Lady in the Lake, The Little Sister, The Long Goodbye, and the unfinished Playback. The Long Goodbye (1953) is the most ambitious; Farewell, My Lovely (1940) is the most perfect. James M. Cain — The Postman Always Rings Twice (1934), Double Indemnity (1943) — is the third pillar.

CHAPTER XChandler on what the form is for.

In December 1944 Raymond Chandler published in The Atlantic Monthly an essay called "The Simple Art of Murder." It is the founding manifesto of the American crime novel, and a sustained polemic against the British puzzle tradition. Chandler had been reading the Detection Club novels and was unimpressed. The murderers in those books, he argued, do not behave like real murderers; the policemen do not behave like real policemen; the prose is dead.

The realist in murder writes of a world in which gangsters can rule nations and almost rule cities, in which hotels and apartment houses and celebrated restaurants are owned by men who made their money out of brothels…— Raymond Chandler, 1944

The essay's most quoted passage is the description of the detective hero — "down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean" — but its real argument is structural. The crime novel, Chandler insists, is not a game; it is a representation of a world. The puzzle tradition treated murder as an intellectual exercise; the hard-boiled tradition would treat it as a moral one. The split has been productive ever since.

CHAPTER XIThe pulp tradition.

Black Mask was a pulp magazine, sold for fifteen cents, printed on rough paper that has not survived well. Under "Cap" Shaw, who took over in 1926, it became the venue for the new American crime story. Carroll John Daly's "Three Gun Terry" (May 1923) is usually identified as the first hard-boiled detective story; Daly is now unreadable but his contemporary Hammett is not. Hammett published his first Continental Op story in Black Mask in October 1923.

The pulp tradition matters because it created a working market for the genre's experimental wing. Cornell Woolrich, one of the strangest crime writers America has produced, sold to Black Mask and Detective Fiction Weekly; his novel The Bride Wore Black (1940) and the stories collected as Rear Window (1942 onward) are the source for much of Hitchcock's middle career. Frederick Nebel's Cardigan stories. Paul Cain's Fast One (1933). The pulps paid two cents a word and trained the most influential American prose stylists of the century.

CHAPTER XIIHighsmith.

Patricia Highsmith wrote a kind of crime novel no one else has matched. Her central subject is the psychology of the murderer, observed without moral commentary, with a closeness that approaches identification. Strangers on a Train (1950), her first novel, was filmed by Hitchcock; it is essentially a psychological study of two men who agree to swap killings. The Talented Mr. Ripley (1955) is the masterpiece: Tom Ripley, a young American grifter sent to Italy to retrieve a wealthy expatriate, kills his target and assumes his life, and the rest of the novel — and the four sequels — follow him as he gets away with it.

What is unsettling is Highsmith's flat, unjudging voice. The reader is required, sentence by sentence, to share Ripley's calculations. Highsmith herself was, by all accounts, a difficult and lonely person; she was also a serious novelist. Read The Talented Mr. Ripley first, then Strangers on a Train, then any of the sequels.

CHAPTER XIIIPostwar British.

The postwar British detective novel professionalised. P. D. James began publishing in 1962 with Cover Her Face; her detective Adam Dalgliesh, a Scotland Yard commander who is also a published poet, ran through fourteen novels until The Private Patient (2008). James's prose is patrician, slow-paced, and serious; her novels are partly social novels of British institutional life — the law school in A Certain Justice, the medical examiner's office in The Murder Room.

Ruth Rendell wrote two parallel careers. The Wexford novels are competent procedurals. The Barbara Vine novels — A Dark-Adapted Eye (1986), A Fatal Inversion (1987), Asta's Book (1993) — are the best psychological crime novels written in English in their decade. Reginald Hill's Dalziel and Pascoe series is the wittiest of the three; On Beulah Height (1998) is one of the great late detective novels. All three writers are essential. Begin with Vine's A Fatal Inversion.

CHAPTER XIVThe police procedural.

The police procedural — the crime novel that takes police work itself as its central interest — is the genre's third major form, after the puzzle and the hard-boiled. Its founder is Ed McBain, the pen name of Evan Hunter, whose 87th Precinct novels began in 1956 with Cop Hater and ran to Fiddlers in 2005. Fifty-five novels in fifty years. The trick was a rotating cast of detectives, no single hero, a distinctive use of teletyped police forms reproduced on the page, and an interest in the texture of working-class New York life.

The procedural's other lineages: in Britain, the Inspector Morse novels (Colin Dexter, 1975–99) and the Rebus novels (Ian Rankin, 1987–) for working-class Edinburgh. In America, Joseph Wambaugh's The Choirboys (1975) and his nonfiction The Onion Field (1973) brought LAPD reality into the form. Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch novels (1992–) are the long-running American procedural at its most patient. Begin with McBain's Cop Hater or Connelly's The Black Echo.

CHAPTER XVSimenon · French restraint.

Georges Simenon was Belgian, wrote in French, and produced more good detective novels than any other twentieth-century writer. The Maigret novels — 75 of them, beginning with Pietr-le-Letton in 1931 — feature Commissaire Jules Maigret of the Paris Police Judiciaire. He smokes a pipe. He drinks calvados. He waits. The cases are short, somber, and pre-occupied with the social texture of French life: a small bistro on the rue Lepic, a provincial notary, an immigrant restaurant in the Marais.

Maigret's method, if it can be called one, is patience and attentiveness to milieu. He goes to the café where the victim drank, sits, and listens. The novels are between 150 and 200 pages each, and Simenon claimed to write each in about eleven days. The 117 non-Maigret novels, the romans durs, are even more concentrated and bleak; The Snow Was Dirty (1948) is Simenon at his hardest. Begin with My Friend Maigret (1949) or Maigret and the Yellow Dog (1931).

CHAPTER XVIScandinavian noir.

The Scandinavian crime novel in its modern form was invented in Stockholm by the husband-and-wife Marxists Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö, who in 1965 began writing what they had planned, mathematically, as ten novels — the Martin Beck decalogue. The ten books, completed before Wahlöö's death in 1975, present themselves as a sustained critique of the Swedish welfare state through the lens of the National Homicide Squad. Roseanna (1965) is the first; The Laughing Policeman (1968) the most famous; The Terrorists (1975) the last.

The line runs through Henning Mankell's Kurt Wallander novels (1991–2009), set in Ystad on the Swedish south coast, which absorbed Sjöwall and Wahlöö's social-novel ambitions and produced the international Scandinavian noir wave. Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy (2005–07, published posthumously) was the commercial supernova. Jo Nesbø's Harry Hole novels are the most readable. The Icelandic Arnaldur Indriðason and the Danish Peter Høeg (Smilla's Sense of Snow, 1992) belong here too. Begin with Roseanna.

CHAPTER XVIIJapanese crime.

Japan has the world's most active honkaku — "fair-play" — puzzle tradition. Seishi Yokomizo's Kosuke Kindaichi novels, written between 1946 and 1980, are baroque locked-room mysteries set in postwar villages and old samurai houses; The Honjin Murders (1946) and The Inugami Curse (1951) are the best-known. The honkaku tradition was revived in the 1980s by Soji Shimada and the so-called shin-honkaku writers, including Yukito Ayatsuji, whose The Decagon House Murders (1987) is an explicit homage to And Then There Were None.

Keigo Higashino is the contemporary master. The Devotion of Suspect X (2005) is one of the most elegantly engineered crime novels of this century: the reader knows who, and how, from chapter one; the puzzle is what the police will discover. Natsuo Kirino's Out (1997) is the dark Japanese feminist crime novel — four women on the night shift at a bento factory in suburban Tokyo, and a body. Read The Devotion of Suspect X, then Out.

CHAPTER XVIIIThe literary thriller.

The crime and espionage novel has, throughout its history, produced novelists of literary stature whom the literary establishment has been slow to canonise. Graham Greene divided his books into "novels" and "entertainments" and the entertainments — Brighton Rock (1938), The Ministry of Fear (1943), The Third Man (1949) — are the most enduring of his fiction. Brighton Rock is the great English Catholic crime novel; the seventeen-year-old gangster Pinkie Brown is one of literature's purest portraits of evil.

John le Carré, who actually worked for MI5 and MI6 in the 1950s, did for the spy novel what Hammett had done for the detective novel: gave it a moral architecture and a working prose. The Spy Who Came In from the Cold (1963) and the Karla trilogy — Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974), The Honourable Schoolboy (1977), Smiley's People (1979) — are the great literary spy novels in English. A Perfect Spy (1986) is autobiography in disguise. Read Tinker Tailor; the rest will follow.

CHAPTER XIXThe inverted mystery.

Donna Tartt's The Secret History (1992) is the most influential American crime novel of the past forty years and is structured against the grain of the genre. The reader knows from page one that Bunny Corcoran is dead and that his killers are the small group of classics students at the elite Vermont college from which the narrator is reporting. The question is not who but why. The novel becomes an investigation of complicity, of the seductions of beauty and exclusivity, and of how a small group of intelligent young people talk themselves into murder.

Tartt's procedure — the inverted detective story, sometimes called the "howcatchem" — has a long lineage running back to R. Austin Freeman's Dr Thorndyke stories of 1912 and the Columbo television series of 1968. The Secret History is its literary apotheosis. The novel that comes closest to it in recent decades is Tana French's The Likeness (2008), a Dublin Murder Squad book that is a quiet act of homage. Read both.

CHAPTER XXTana French.

Tana French is the most important crime novelist working in English today. Her Dublin Murder Squad sequence, six novels published between 2007 and 2016, takes a different detective from the squad as the narrator of each book; the result is an oblique portrait of contemporary Ireland, told in six voices and across six cases. In the Woods (2007) is the doubled-mystery debut — a present-day murder in a Dublin suburb, a missing-children case from twenty years before, both connected.

French's prose is intelligent, deeply Irish, and unusually serious about class. Faithful Place (2010) is set in the working-class Liberties; Broken Harbor (2012) in a half-built ghost estate during the post-Celtic Tiger collapse; The Secret Place (2014) in a girls' boarding school. The novels share atmosphere rather than detective and are best read in order. Her stand-alones — The Witch Elm (2018), The Searcher (2020) — are even more literary in ambition.

CHAPTER XXIMosley · Black Los Angeles.

Walter Mosley's Easy Rawlins novels are the great late-century reinvention of the Chandler mode. Devil in a Blue Dress (1990) opens in 1948: Easy Rawlins, a Black Texan veteran living in Watts, has just been laid off from his aircraft-factory job. A white man in a linen suit walks into his neighbourhood bar and offers him money to find a missing white woman. The novel is a Chandler plot in a city Chandler did not see, and Mosley spent the next thirty years walking Easy through Los Angeles decade by decade — the Watts riots, the Civil Rights era, the late 1960s, the seventies — each book a chapter in a long Black Californian century.

The novels are also experiments in the Black detective tradition that Chester Himes opened with the Coffin Ed Johnson and Grave Digger Jones books (1957–69). Mosley is the more patient writer; Himes is the wilder. Read Himes's Cotton Comes to Harlem (1965) and Mosley's Devil in a Blue Dress in succession.

CHAPTER XXIIDomestic suspense.

Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl (2012) revived an old strain of the genre — the marital-suspense novel of the 1950s, the strain to which Patricia Highsmith and Vera Caspary belonged — and made it a publishing event. The novel's central trick, an unreliable wife who has framed her unreliable husband, is a formal mechanism Highsmith would have recognised. What Flynn added was the contemporary medium: the marriage diary, the cable-news segment, the missing-white-woman industry, the language of the lifestyle magazine.

The wave that followed — sometimes called domestic suspense or, dismissively, "girl-on-a-train fiction" — is uneven. The good books pay attention to the texture of contemporary middle-class life; the lazy ones repeat the unreliable-narrator gimmick without earning it. Read Flynn (also Sharp Objects, 2006), then Megan Abbott (Dare Me, 2012; You Will Know Me, 2016) for the more literary version of the same project.

CHAPTER XXIIIThe crime novel as social novel.

The American crime novel has, since the 1990s, become one of the few remaining vehicles for the social novel of working-class urban life. George Pelecanos has spent forty years documenting Washington DC outside the federal city: the Black and Greek neighbourhoods east of the Anacostia, the auto-body shops, the corner stores, the long-running consequences of the 1968 riots. The Derek Strange / Terry Quinn novels (Right As Rain, 2001, onward) are the central sequence; The Sweet Forever (1998) and Hard Revolution (2004) are the two best stand-alones.

Richard Price is the form's most New Yorkian practitioner. Clockers (1992) is the great American novel of the 1980s crack epidemic — set in the housing project of "Dempsy, NJ," based on Jersey City — and gave Spike Lee his 1995 film. Lush Life (2008) is the LES novel of the early aughts. Pelecanos and Price both wrote for David Simon's The Wire (2002–08), which is in essence the same project on television. The crime novel here is a way to write about cities that the realist literary novel has largely abandoned.

CHAPTER XXIVThe working parts.

A detective novel has a small, dense set of moving parts. A setup — the body, the disappearance, the theft. A closed circle of suspects, even if the circle is the size of a city. A detective, professional or not, official or not. A Watson — the witness whose comparative ignorance preserves the reader's. A series of clues, each of which must, in retrospect, have been visible. A series of red herrings, each of which must, in retrospect, have been a coherent misreading of a clue. And a reveal in which the world reorganises itself.

The variations are infinite. Christie sometimes makes the Watson the murderer (Roger Ackroyd); Carr sometimes makes the closed circle a single sealed room; the procedural distributes the detective across a squad. But the basic shape is durable: a question, a search, a recognition. The genre's deepest pleasure — the sense that the world is, finally, legible — depends on the discipline of these parts.

CHAPTER XXVCosy vs dark.

The genre runs along a spectrum from cosy to dark. The cosy mystery preserves the genre's puzzle structure but minimises violence and grief: the death is decorous, the milieu is benign, the detective is often an amateur. M. C. Beaton's Hamish Macbeth novels (1985–onward), Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency (1998–), Richard Osman's Thursday Murder Club (2020–) are the contemporary cosy bestsellers. The mode is reliable, comforting, and not without intelligence; Christie at her best is cosy.

The dark end of the spectrum is unflinching. James Ellroy's L.A. Quartet (The Black Dahlia, 1987; The Big Nowhere, 1988; L.A. Confidential, 1990; White Jazz, 1992) is the bleakest American crime fiction; L.A. Confidential is the masterpiece. Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me (1952) and Pop. 1280 (1964) are the dark predecessors. Most readers prefer one end; the genre is healthier when both are working. Read across.

CHAPTER XXVIThirty essential mysteries.

• 1841The Murders in the Rue Morgue · the first detective storyE. A. Poe
• 1868The MoonstoneWilkie Collins
• 1892The Adventures of Sherlock HolmesA. C. Doyle
• 1911The Innocence of Father BrownG. K. Chesterton
• 1926The Murder of Roger AckroydA. Christie
• 1929Red HarvestD. Hammett
• 1929The Poisoned Chocolates CaseA. Berkeley
• 1930The Maltese FalconD. Hammett
• 1934The Postman Always Rings TwiceJ. M. Cain
• 1935The Three CoffinsJ. D. Carr
• 1935Gaudy NightD. L. Sayers
• 1938Brighton RockG. Greene
• 1939And Then There Were NoneA. Christie
• 1940Farewell, My LovelyR. Chandler
• 1949Maigret and the Yellow DogG. Simenon
• 1950Strangers on a TrainP. Highsmith
• 1953The Long GoodbyeR. Chandler
• 1955The Talented Mr. RipleyP. Highsmith
• 1965RoseannaSjöwall & Wahlöö
• 1974Tinker Tailor Soldier SpyJ. le Carré
• 1986A Dark-Adapted EyeB. Vine
• 1987The Black DahliaJ. Ellroy
• 1990L.A. ConfidentialJ. Ellroy
• 1990Devil in a Blue DressW. Mosley
• 1992The Secret HistoryD. Tartt
• 1992ClockersR. Price
• 1997OutN. Kirino
• 2005The Devotion of Suspect XK. Higashino
• 2007In the WoodsT. French
• 2012Gone GirlG. Flynn

CHAPTER XXVIIWhere to go next.

↑ A BRIEF HISTORY OF CRIME AND DETECTIVE FICTION — A LECTURE OVERVIEW

More on YouTube

Watch · Black Mask Magazine: The Pioneer of the Hard-boiled Detective
Watch · Agatha Christie — Queen of Crime (documentary)

Read

The single best critical history is Julian Symons's Bloody Murder: From the Detective Story to the Crime Novel (1972, revised 1992) — a writer's, not a scholar's, book. P. D. James's Talking About Detective Fiction (2009) is the elegant short version. Auden's "The Guilty Vicarage" (Harper's, 1948) is the great single essay. For the genre's gender politics: Sara Paretsky's Writing in an Age of Silence (2007). For the procedural and its journalism: David Simon's Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets (1991), the nonfiction book behind the television.

Where to keep reading

For new crime fiction: Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine (still publishing since 1941), Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, the British Crime Writers' Association's Dagger Awards, the American Mystery Writers of America's Edgar Awards, the CWA's annual Bloody Scotland festival. The two prizes most worth following are the Edgar (US) and the Gold Dagger (UK).