The State of the Crime Novel, Part 1: A Roundtable Discussion with the Edgar Nominees

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Once again, the Edgar Awards are upon us! And as usual, I asked the nominees for the Edgars to weigh in on the state of the genre on the eve of the mystery community’s most prestigious award ceremony. Because 38 (!) authors contributed answers to the discussion this year, I’ve split the interview into two parts. Part one asks the nominees to reflect on the wider world of genre. What are the rules these days? What is the state of the genre? And how do we respond to the growing issues of book bans? Part two, running tomorrow, will address craft, readership, and classic crime fiction. Thank you so much to everyone who contributed, and special shoutout to Kathy Daneman for once again helping arrange a fascinating and wide-ranging discussion. Now, it’s time to let the authors speak for themselves…

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What do you think is the state of crime fiction today?

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Katie Gutierrez (nominated for Best First Novel – More Than You’ll Ever Know): I think crime fiction is more diverse, exciting, and nuanced than ever before. Women writers like Danya Kukafka, Marie Rutkowski, and Rebecca Makkai have recently interrogated the trope of the dead girl—the victimized girl, the voiceless girl—to breathtaking effect. Suspense and thriller writers like Ashley Audrain and Leah Konen are deeply examining motherhood, and the terrors therein, in their work. BIPOC writers—I’m thinking of Kirstin Chen, Tracey Lien, Stephen Graham Jones, Ramona Emerson, Alex Segura, Kellye Garrett, Deepti Kapoor, Jennifer Hillier, Isabel Cañas, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, among so many others—are creating some of the most powerful, gritty, imaginative, and genre-bending crime and mystery fiction out there. We’re telling stories only we can tell, which—despite 80% of published books still being by white authors—gives me a great sense of hope and possibility.

David Geherin ( (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – The Crime World of Michael Connelly): I believe crime fiction is in excellent shape. Many of our finest writers are still turning out first-rate work and I keep discovering new young writers who are energizing the various traditions of the genre by adding fresh perspectives and offering even greater diversity.

Eli Cranor (nominated for Best First Novel – Don’t Know Tough): The books are great and the authors are cool. Crime fiction is in good hands.

Carole Lawrence (nominated for Best Paperback Original – Cleopatra’s Dagger): I think crime fiction is more robust than ever—there seem to be subgenres popping up all the time, and a lot of talented writers out there exploring the limits of the genre. Countries we didn’t even think of as being associated with the genre twenty years ago are now quite prominent, like the Scandinavian countries.

Nita Prose (nominated for Best Novel – The Maid): Crime fiction has always sought to look closely at the ills in society and comment on it through storytelling. Often, it’s the distance of fiction that allows us to see reality more clearly. That’s precisely why the genre is so relevant today.

Danya Kukafka (nominated for Best Novel – Notes on an Execution): Crime fiction is expanding in beautiful ways. I love that writers are beginning to blur the lines between crime and other genres, like horror or speculative or literary fiction. As crime fiction expands, it allows for more seats at the table, and this can only be a good thing.

Andrew Neiderman (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – The Woman Beyond the Attic: The V.C. Andrews Story): It’s a lot more sophisticated because of the advancement of forensics and the fact that more readers are aware of what is and isn’t possible. But sophistication doesn’t necessarily mean being more creative. A good story is always a good story and well-developed characters are never going to be replaced with scientific detail. On the whole, there are quite a number of very good crime fiction stories, novels and films.

Connie Berry (nominated for the Lilian Jackson Braun Memorial Award – The Shadow of Memory) : In a word, I would say vibrant. The category has literally exploded with newly minted genres, creative mashups, and an ever-increasing number of diverse voices. There’s literally something for everyone out there, and the popularity of crime fiction among readers shows no sign of declining as far as I can see.

Mark de Castrique (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – Secret Lives): I think crime fiction is in a period of extraordinary popularity. So many good authors are telling diverse stories with a range of characters from all walks of life. Lines are blurred between conventional genre categories like cozy and hard-boiled, although both are well represented.

I believe another factor propelling the popularity of crime fiction is the tremendous number of crime dramas and series being produced for streaming. Many are based on books, which introduce viewers to authors they might not be familiar with.

Martin Edwards (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – The Life of Crime: Detecting the History of Mysteries and Their Creators ): Healthy—and exciting. In The Life of Crime, I argue that although, for much of the twentieth century, crime fiction was disdained by some critics, the literary snobbery of the past is now dying out. Across the world we have countless different voices telling stories about crime that entertain us and also, in many cases, cast valuable light on the human condition. There is something for every crime reader, whatever their literary tastes. I believe, too, that the more widely we read, the more pleasure we’ll have. Just because you love Agatha Christie, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy Walter Mosley or Jane Harper or Soji Shimada or Gillian Flynn.

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What’s a story you’d like to share about the mystery community?

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D. M. Rowell (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – Never Name the Dead): The mystery community is the best I’ve ever experienced! I have spent over thirty years in the high-tech industry. In all those years, I experienced support and mentorship once—for a short time. Everyone at every level in the industry seemed in competition with each other rather than working to form a team. My experience with the writing community has been a stark contrast to that of my high-tech past. The help, support, and advice coming from within the mystery writing community is amazing. Everyone is helpful and welcoming. Everyone! If I had known such a community existed earlier in my life, I would not have waited so long to start writing!

Eli Cranor: The fact that Peter Lovesey decided to host a first-crime-novel contest for his 50th anniversary instead of a gala, and that is the sole reason y’all are interviewing me today. I am floored, over and over again, by crime writers’ generosity.

Max Allan Collins (nominated for Best Paperback Original – Quarry’s Blood): I don’t have a sense of the mystery community, although I do realize many within that group don’t read me or know who I am. But I have a very supportive core of readers who write me at my web site (maxallancollins.com) and send e-mails expressing their interest, support and even gratitude, which means more than I can say. At the same time, I often keep in mind what Don Westlake told me: “A cult writer is seven readers short of the writer making a living.” I was also told by my first agent (of two) that he was reluctantly taking me on even though I was “a blacksmith in an automotive age.” And that was in 1971!

Alexa Donne (nominated for Best Young Adult – Pretty Dead Queens): Not so much a story, but an expression of my gratitude: I started my career in a different genre where I often felt out of place, not good enough, occasionally invisible, and sometimes even stupid. The mystery and thriller community, especially of authors, has been so welcoming and open. I felt like a peer, like I belonged, on day one. So I just want to say thank you to the entire community of authors, readers, editors, journalists, and media.

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Is the purpose of genre fiction to entertain, or to critique? How do you balance between both?

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Nita Prose: The purpose of genre fiction, like all fiction, is to illuminate and entrance (ergo, to entertain) while critiquing.

Danya Kukafka: Both. I think it’s incredibly important to entertain—a reader needs to stay in the story, to live with you inside the world of the book, but when they come out they need to feel they’ve touched something bigger than the book, bigger than themselves. The balance is a matter of adjusting the taste of the book as you go, while listening to yourself as your own most trusted reader.

Grace M. Li (nominated for Best First Novel – Portrait of a Thief): Both, of course! Genre fiction is so wonderful because it comes with certain expectations, and accordingly offers opportunities to both meet and subvert those expectations. In writing Portrait of a Thief, I wanted to write a fun heist novel with characters who looked like me; I also wanted to examine the complicated legacy of colonialism in the context of museums and looted art. The two absolutely coexist within my book, and I think one of the many joys of genre fiction is that it can take these often weighty topics and address them in an accessible—and entertaining!—way.

Eli Cranor: The purpose is whatever the author wants for their work. Some authors write to entertain, others to educate. It’s impressive when someone can do both and pull it off.

Stephen Spotswood (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – Secrets Typed in Blood): I don’t think those are mutually exclusive. Critiquing your subject matter can be super entertaining. Some of my favorite mystery/crime novels work to critique law enforcement, the treatment of victims, and the conventions of the genre itself, and my enjoyment doesn’t take a pause when that happens. My novels take place in late 1940s America and highlight the misogyny, racism, homophobia, etc of that time and that is a hell of a lot more entertaining than if I left it unexamined.

Mary Anna Evans (nominated for Best Critical/Biographical – The Bloomsbury Handbook to Agatha Christie): I think most crime fiction is sold to readers who are looking for entertainment. However, there are many (many!) opportunities for entertainment in the world, and I think people are drawn to works that reflect, and often critique, the societies in which we live. When writing fiction, I don’t often think consciously about balancing entertainment and critique, because they go hand in hand for me. Crime fiction critiques society by its nature, because each society decides for itself what constitutes a crime. Should a hungry person go to prison for stealing a loaf of bread? The answer to that question can both critique and entertain, and it has, for many years now.

Max Allan Collins: I am by nature an entertainer and don’t have to think about that or try. As for social commentary, my strong belief is that if you want to tell people what you think, you write an essay; if you want to find out what you think, you write fiction.

D. M. Rowell: The primary purpose of genre fiction is to entertain and if done well, inspire. The reader has chosen to read fiction for the story, to escape, and to experience a different reality. The best compliment I can receive as an author is that my story kept a reader turning pages late into the night or that the writing was invisible, allowing the reader to sink into the story. Yet, for this to happen, the story must have depth. Critique adds that component.

In the past, critique was hidden. It was as if it was taboo. Today readers appreciate tales that broaden their world view, provide insights into different cultures and raise social issues. Serving a puzzling mystery wrapped in a unique location, culture or period adds to the depth of the story. Done right, critique flows with the story. It entertains while informing a reader.

I bring my Kiowa culture into my writing. With each story comes an inside perspective of being a Kiowa woman today and the struggles to keep Native American traditions alive. As a storyteller, I know the story comes first. I must create a story that intrigues readers, and compels them to read on to the surprise ending. Yet , I also want to expose readers to my Native American heritage and share oral traditions. I try to do this seamlessly within appropriate points throughout the story. Readers soon learn that being Kiowa is a core aspect of my main character, one that she thought didn’t matter in her life as a Silicon Valley entrepreneur until forced to bring her worlds together.

Weaving insights about my Kiowa culture into each story, enhances the reader’s experience and adds an intriguing depth to my Mud Sawpole mysteries.

Mark de Castrique: I think genre fiction should definitely entertain, meaning readers should be drawn into a world where they lose themselves in the story and are invested in the fate of the characters. However, although every genre book doesn’t need to be a critique of social issues, those issues provide fair game for mystery writers. Novels are fueled by conflict and social issues are manifestations of conflict. The late, great Margaret Maron told me there is no social topic that can’t be portrayed in a mystery. The balance is achieved by keeping the story paramount. The reader will react more favorably to a critique if he or she discovers it within the context of the story and not by being preached to in a “sermon.” I like for my readers to learn something during the course of being entertained.

Emilya Naymark (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – Behind the Lie): I firmly believe the purpose of most art is to entertain and transport. Art is a gift to the artist, because creating is a wonderful feeling, and is also a gift to others. To me, this applies to genre fiction, fine art, music, film. Certainly, an author’s vision of the world will come through, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not so much, but I think a novel that sets out to critique society still needs to work as entertainment. The more entertaining, the wider the message will spread.

Amanda Flower (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – Because I Could Not Stop For Death): Ultimately, I write to entertain, but I think genre fiction can be for entertainment and critique. Even the lightest mystery novels have the message of justice and righting a wrong.

David Geherin: In my opinion, entertainment is job one. Readers of a mystery or detective novel have a right to expect a good story told in an interesting way that keeps their attention to the end. Writers who provide this are then free to add much more, both in terms of language, setting, depth of character, etc. They are also free to use their work to raise issues that critique the world we live in, either directly or indirectly, as long as the entertainment level is maintained.

Alexa Donne: Both? I think it depends on the genre, partly, but also there’s room for books of all kinds—from pure entertainment to more serious critique, to a mix of the two. Personally as I reader, I tend to enjoy books that balance both the best, but I also read my fair share of pure entertainment, especially in thrillers.

Yet art is always on some level political, and if not a purposeful commentary on people and the world, all books are at the least a reflection of those who write them.

I try to find that balance in my own books by going full force at fun tropes, embracing the frothy, sometimes melodramatic heights to which a commercial thriller can go, while incorporating ideas and themes through character work and motive. Every choice adds up to the whole, including character conception and cast makeup, POV, setting, and how conflict unfolds.

I always hope the reader is having such a good time they don’t realize the depth of the critique, if I’m offering one, until it all comes together. But I also allow myself the freedom to ebb and flow in terms of the heft and weight of critique or theming—some of my books are lighter than others.

Eva V. Gibson (nominated for Best Young Adult – Frightmares): I think it’s oversimplifying to point to genre fiction as a whole and state it all must have a singular purpose, but the stories I prefer are ones that entertain while exploring deeper themes and turning a mirror back on society. Most books tend to be more than what they seem on the surface, particularly in crime fiction, where you’re so often dealing with, and being entertained by, the worst aspects of human existence. The crime genre specifically intrigues me when viewed through the lens of escapism; in the way it gives readers the chance to delve into those dark pockets of the world without risk of personal harm. The idea of escaping into a crime scene is ludicrous in the literal sense, but this genre allows us to do exactly that—to put ourselves in the shoes of prey, predator, or both, from a safe distance. As an author, it’s my job to attempt to make sense on the page of what, in reality, are so often senseless, violent acts, while keeping readers invested in both characters they root for, and settings they want to revisit. Writing realistic, sympathetic characters and treating them and their stories with respect, without crossing the line into exploitation, has to be a priority.

Claire Kells (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – An Unforgiving Place): I’ve always placed tremendous value on entertainment, not just in genre fiction but in film and other content. For me personally, I don’t put as much emphasis on critique, especially in genre fiction, but I do think it helps to have something to say—about your characters, or your subject matter, or the themes in the story. As a writer, I aim to do two things: 1) entertain, and 2) elicit an emotional reaction from the reader. I do think there is so much compelling content in the world right now that it feels imperative to grab your reader and show them a good time for a few hours, especially in crime fiction.

Andrew Neiderman: I never thought of it as critique. If it’s true to the genre, it is entertaining because the reader or viewer has expectations met. Perhaps critique refers to an overall statement or meaning to the story. I would still say that genre fiction has to entertain first.

Tamara Berry (nominated for the Lillian Jackson Braun Memorial Award – Buried in a Good Book): Cozy mysteries have a unique place in genre fiction because of how distanced they are from real crime-solving. One of the most important cozy rules (to me, anyway) is that the amateur sleuth is just that: an amateur. They don’t have formal training, they aren’t bound by the rules of justice and bureaucracy, and if they don’t follow exact police protocol, it’s easily glossed over. In this way, cozies are allowed to be entertaining without the burden of social critique. In a time when so many people are questioning the systemic structures that uphold the legal system (and, by extension, crime fiction), there’s quite a bit of freedom in this.

Sulari Gentill (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – The Woman in the Library): We seem to live in an era of extreme polarization where society divides itself into teams on almost every issue with each side demonizing the other. I think crime fiction allows you to have those conversations which seem impossible otherwise, it gets around positional deafness or opposition by writing a conversation about issues, or politics, or ethics into the narrative. People seem more open to argument presented in story, and, as the reflection of society has always been the stock-in-trade of the crime novelist, those conversations live in our books. I say conversations because I don’t think it’s the job of any writer to lecture the reader, but we are uniquely able to raise matters in a way that allows the reader to consider the arguments in the privacy of their own minds. We can explore the possible consequences of a position or issue, or look at parallels from the past, or a contemporary impact that may have been overlooked—and because it is fiction, we can do this with fearlessness and humor. I suspect that may be why crime fiction is rising in popularity across the world. The crime novel takes readers not only on a journey about the pursuit of justice, but into a conversation about what justice is. It allow readers to examine what they think, away from the shoutiness of social and conventional media, the pressure of identity and tradition, or the general noise of the world. Crime fiction readers understand that our books are so much more than murder. Personally, I don’t consciously try to create any sort of balance—that emerges from the story itself, because I care about things. Crimes don’t occur in isolation, but in a social and political context.

Carole Lawrence: I think all serious writers are in the business of turning their eye on society and critiquing it when necessary. I’m not interested in writers unless they have a strong point of view about the world. For me writing is a process of discovering what I think and feel about the way things are or the way they should be. But all of that is useless unless you can entertain, so I focus a lot on entertaining. A well told story is by its very nature entertaining, but of course that is the challenge of fiction, to write a well-told story. And it’s just as hard each time you sit down to do it.

Connie Berry: It is possible to do two things at once. I love reading fiction that shows me a world I’ve never personally experienced and that makes me think and re-evaluate my assumptions. But that can’t happen unless I keep turning the pages.

Carol Goodman (nominated for the Mary Higgins Clark Award – The Disinvited Guest): When we say “entertain” what I think of is a book’s ability to completely immerse us in another world and offer a momentary respite from our cares—to take us out of the world. The highest praise I’ve ever received from a reader is being told that getting lost in one of my books got them through illness, grief, or other hardships, and I have many authors to thank for doing the same for me. But being “taken out of the world” doesn’t mean that the work doesn’t reflect back the world. When I close a book and come back to the world, I want to feel that the trip has left me with a new way of looking at the people and events around me. Sometimes a calmer way—sometimes with a renewed conviction of what must be fought for. And so, I also feel that each book I write should, if not critique, at least reflect back the world as I have been seeing it lately.

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In a world of increasing cross-overs, do genre rules still matter?

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Carole Lawrence: I think genres have developed conventions and rules for a reason, and if you ignore those, you do so at your own peril. If you are going to do a crossover or mashup of more than one genre, you have to have twice the knowledge—you really need to be familiar with both genres in order to make it work. That said, I’m all in favor of breaking rules if you can replace them with something better. But that’s the challenge: can you in fact replace it with something better? Not as easy as it seems.

Erika Krouse (nominated for Best Fact Crime – Tell Me Everything: The Story of a Private Investigation): I realize this is an unpopular opinion, but I believe basic genre guidelines are even more important with cross-overs, especially in the crime genre. Crime readers crave good (literary!) crime, but if the crime occurs too late in the book or the investigation is too soft or we guess everything by p. 40 or the crime is just plain lame, then you’re breaking not just “rules” but also your reader’s trust in you. You have to deliver on your promises, especially if you’re tackling more than one genre in a book and have less space to do each one well. It’s hard, though! It was hard for my true crime/memoir cross-over; I felt like I was trying to drive a semi and ride a unicycle at the same time. All that said, it’s also brilliant when books break genre rules well, like when in Murder on the Orient Express (spoiler alert!), all 12 of the suspects are the murderers, and the detective refuses to “solve” the crime for morality’s sake.

Katie Gutierrez: To me personally, genre rules don’t matter. But then, I love novels that blend genres or subvert genre expectations in some way. Historical fiction + mystery + horror? Yes! Literary + crime + family drama? Absolutely. I’m willing to go anywhere with a writer as long as I’m immersed in their world. I’d describe my own novel, More Than You’ll Ever Know, as literary suspense + family drama + crime, but some readers have described it as a thriller, while others have felt let down by the book after it didn’t meet their expectations of a thriller. And that’s fair! I respect a reader who knows exactly what they want out of a reading experience. As a writer, though, I don’t feel beholden to genre rules, and I can only hope to execute my stories well enough that readers won’t, either.

Amanda Flower: Genre matters. As a former librarian, I know that readers look at genre when reading because they expect something from each genre. In mystery, that something would be justice served or in romance, it will be a happily ever after. It’s about meeting readers’ expectations.

Nita Prose: Like with all rules, genre rules are meant to be broken, challenged, and expanded. One of the wonderful things about genre fiction is that there are boundaries and well-established conventions … and yet the truly extraordinary writers out there are always innovating those boundaries in new and exciting new ways.

William Burton McCormick (nominated for Best Short Story – “Locked-In,” Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine): I think genre rules matter only in the sense of readership expectations. If they are expecting a murder or ghost or to laugh or to scream and you don’t give them that, they’ll be disappointed. Knowing the genre’s rules and expectations can be useful in crafting the story if you obey them, or a lot of fun if you can subvert those expectations successfully, but you can’t simply ignore them. In publications known for cross-overs and mashups you’ve a lot more freedom as the readers of those markets desire genre transgressions. Those markets can be rare but pop up now and again. A good new one that seeks crime, horror and speculative/science fiction cross-overs is Black Cat Weekly edited by Michael Bracken and Barb Goffman amongst others.

Claire Kells: I do think genre rules matter because readers have certain expectations that help them identify the books they want to read. That’s not to say that writers need to follow a list of rules—in fact, I think it’s important to push boundaries to keep things fresh and interesting, especially in a crowded genre. But a mystery ceases to be a mystery without some question about “who did it” or why; it’s reasonable to give the reader the essence of what they expect and then explore and expand from there.

Tamara Berry: As long as the genre rules matter to readers, I feel like they should matter to authors. As much as I love pushing the envelope about what a genre mystery can and can’t be (and there are some amazing authors out there doing just that!), there are certain rules that readers have come to expect from anything labeled a “cozy.” Finding a way to operate within those expectations while still staying true to who I am as an author isn’t always easy, but that’s part of the challenge (and joy) of the process.

Sulari Gentill: I’m not sure the rules have ever really mattered, aside from telling you what has worked for writers and readers in the past. But knowing what the rules are, and why they exist allows you to consciously break them when necessary in the way that enhances rather than detracts from the narrative. Some rules fade away over time whilst others emerge. Knowing where the rule has come from is, I think, more important than following it. Crime fiction complements other genres so easily that cross-overs are inevitable, and the rules of one genre can be used to twist the other. In the end what’s important is that the story works regardless of its genre. All that said, just don’t kill the dog!

John Darnielle (nominated for Best Novel – Devil House): I think the answer everybody gives to this is “no,” and I get that, for a number of reasons — first, in any genre, I think it’s generally agreed that the best works are usually the ones that push at the edges of their confines, that do things to distinguish them from good but unremarkable genre exercises. And while I don’t disagree with this, I’m always wanting to defend the idea of genre or subgenre being good enough on its own — that a great horror story doesn’t need to come with a “it’s like [legendary horror author] meets [something from outside the frame of reference].” “This is a great mystery!” ought to be sufficient, and I think that having genre rules and conventions in place allows for better work within those rules and conventions. When you have a list of standards, then the people who exceed them shine brightly. At the same time, though…I’m a Jim Thompson fan, I’m a Sciascia fan, I’m a Jean-Patrick Manchette fan. These are writers whose genre books either go so full-throttle as to become outliers (Manchette, Thompson) or brood so deeply that they become meditations (Sciascia). But I think that without “genre rules” (I’d say “conventions,” it seems less loaded), these writers wouldn’t have a framework within which to find the less explored corners.

Andrew Neiderman: Rules in general obstruct creativity. If a story is paint by numbers, it might satisfy the genre editor, but when the reader is finished, he or she might simply shrug and say, “been there, done that.”

Max Allan Collins: I don’t know what the genre rules are. I have developed my own approach, based on influences as diverse as William March (The Bad Seed) and Samuel Shellabarger (Prince of Foxes) and by inhaling Hammett, Chandler and James M. Cain at an early age. You develop your own tropes, if you do this long enough. For example, in writing the Nathan Heller novels, based on true crimes and real mysteries, the outcome is often ambiguous or unknown; so I frequently invent secondary bad guys who my detective can bring to justice, either official or rough. I’m not proud of doing that again and again, but it appears to be a necessary “genre rule” applicable to my work, if not anyone else’s. The rule would seem to be that mystery readers don’t care for unresolved endings.

Michael Craft (nominated for the Lillian Jackson Braun Memorial Award – Desert Getaway): Sure, they do. The most obvious crossover I’ve noted in the mystery genre is the inflated role of romance injected by some authors. While romantic subplots have long been a staple of mystery writing (they can provide a useful background story arc that connects the books in a series), some writers are now flipping the formula and using the mystery plot in a supporting role to the romance, as if adding a bit of grit to the froth. Some readers are apparently fine with that, but I’ve often heard devoted mystery readers grouse about this trend.

Louise Luna (nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award – Hideout): You are asking the wrong writer! I don’t tick any boxes unless they serve the story or the characters. I mean, I usually have some missing persons/dead bodies lying around so in order to make that authentic and provide a fulsome narrative, I have to commit to certain tropes and twists and plot points. And I really love a page-break cliffhanger. But if my characters enter a hot-dog eating contest or get some questionable tattoos, I’m not going to stop them. If there’s humor, there’s humor. If there’s intimacy, there’s intimacy. If there’s a chapter that reads a little more like a haunted house story as opposed to a crime story, well why not? As long as you stay true to your people (your readers and your characters), you can write whatever kind of book you want.

Emilya Naymark: It seems to matter most because of marketing and expectations, less because of what makes a good story. Publishers need to know how to promote a book to bookstores, what categories to give it on Amazon, how to design a cover. Thrillers, cozies, traditional mysteries, horror, all have their own rules for visuals and placement. Then again, readers want to know what they’re getting. They seem to prefer knowing that if they choose a spy thriller, there won’t be monsters or werewolves in the mix.

Having said that, as a writer, I would love to add a vampire or two to a novel of domestic suspense. Even more, I think thrillers and romance are a match made in… well, you know. Count me first in line to read those cross-overs.

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Horror and crime mashups are getting increasingly common. How do you define horror, and what is the place of horror in the world of crime?

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Claire Kells: As a writer, I think about horror as a genre where the primary goal is to scare the reader. As a reader, I always approach these books with some trepidation—I don’t like reading them alone at night! I do think horror has its place in crime fiction, and there are certainly a number of writers out there doing it exceedingly well. I have always admired stories that make you feel that acute sense of dread. After all, dread is the ultimate form of suspense. Once the gore happens, the tension releases and the reader experiences a welcome sense of relief. I always try to create at least a little bit of dread in my stories, especially during particularly tense scenes.

Katie Gutierrez: I grew up on a steady diet of YA horror books—R.L. Stine, Christopher Pike, and Lois Duncan, which led me as a young teenager to authors like Stephen King and Dean Koontz. I drifted away from horror as I got older but have recently been making my way back thanks to brilliant and terrifying work by Catriona Ward, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Gabino Iglesias, Erin Adams, Jason Rekulak, V. Castro, and Danielle Valentine, among others. I would define horror as the frightening uncanny, stemming from either inside one’s own body or mind, or in the external world. I think horror gives us a place to put our existential dread, to explore our fears in an amplified yet safe way. Crime fiction does something similar for me, and both horror and crime are natural vehicles for social critique. I would love to see more horror in crime!

Stephen Spotswood: I think horror adds a whole new delicious layer to a crime story. If a crime, especially a murder mystery, is a tear in the fabric of society and the general arc of the story is to depict the repairing of that tear, then horror shows that the fabric was never what we thought it was in the first place. That there are unseen gaping holes through which we can slip through and be lost. The statue quo isn’t just disrupted; it turns out to be a lie. And what do our protagonists do then?

Max Allan Collins: Mickey Spillane is more talked about than read, which is a shame. The first six Mike Hammer novels were the bedrock of everything that followed Hammett and Chandler. I was an early proponent of both Jim Thompson and Ennis Willie, and am proud of that. Horace McCoy should be a bigger deal. And Jonathan Latimer was really, really major, till Hollywood swallowed him up.

Andrew Neiderman: Horror to me involves something supernatural, whereas terror involves something psychological. The more psychological the twists and turns are in a crime story, the more you lean toward terror. I would cite Hitchcock films as more terror, the top one being PSYCHO…There is nothing supernatural in it and although there are horrific scenes in the sense of murder and what Norman does with his mother, it’s frightening. Horror movies or stories frighten until they’re over. On the other hand, if you believe in ghosts or in Satan, you take it with you. Terror works into nightmares more than horror.

Kathleen Hale (nominated for Best Fact Crime – Slenderman: Online Obsession, Mental Illness, and the Violent Crime of Two Midwestern Girls): Horror and crime are synonymous in the sense that both evoke dread and increase awareness of our own bodily fragility. I gravitate toward both genres because they allow me to interact with my (otherwise ever-present) fear in a safe, contained way. According to some studies, women are more likely than men to devour crime stories—I think because at some point in our lives we’ve all felt physically endangered; so, crime stories validate our lived experience, without necessarily triggering those experiences wholesale. For certain people, it can be cathartic, in other words, rather than re-traumatizing, to interact with horror as voyeurs rather than victims—which is all to say that horror and crime stories strike us, I think, on the same brain waves. The only difference is that horror stories tend to be fictional (or at least, fictionalized versions of “true stories), whereas true crime is, by definition, horror brought to life.

Erika Krouse: Having been a victim of crime, I believe that horror is inherent in violent crime. I can’t really believe in crime as a diverting intellectual exercise, the way we might enjoy a Sherlock Holmes mystery. If you’re going for realism in crime, you know that a person either ended their life in horror, or survived horror and now has to find a way to cope or seek justice with a new understanding of humanity at its very worst. So whether we’re talking psychological horror or an exploration of evil or something more speculative, I see horror and crime as an instinctive fit.

Max Allan Collins: I’ve done a lot of that myself. Not long ago I fashioned a horror novel, with mystery aspects, out of an unproduced Spillane screenplay—The Menace. My indie movies Mommy and Mommy’s Day, which essentially cast Patty McCormack as the Bad Seed grown up, are often considered horror, in the Psycho area. I don’t much care about what category something is in, if it’s a good story. I do think if the horror element is supernatural, the narrative at hand has drifted out of mystery into pure horror.

William Burton McCormick: Horror, of course, is an emotion that combines surprise with great fear or distress (as opposed to terror which is fear sustained over time). In the “horror genre” reaching the emotional state of horror for the readers or audience is the goal of the story. The plot device that engenders that state of horror is often, but not always, some sort of crime. In the “crime genre” this is reversed. The tale’s plot is about the enactment of or solution to a crime. Horror may be present as a reaction to that crime but is not necessary. A solid crime story will be as solid with or without horror. In cozy mysteries there will be no horror, but they are still viable crime stories. In short, horror for a crime writer is a garnish. Apply it as lightly or heavily as you wish, but the main course must be the crime. If your story is meaningless without the horror, you’re writing a horror story not a crime story.

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As book bans have swept across the country, what do you think is the responsibility of authors when it comes to standing up for diversity of reading materials?

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D. M. Rowell: We have the same responsibility as all Americans; to stand up and oppose bans. Bans on books do not affect one, it affects all. The First Amendment of our Constitution guarantees all of us the freedom to read.

Restrictions on free thought and free speech must always be fought. Restrictions and bans are un-American. We all must stand against book bans.

Eli Cranor: It’s huge. I work in public education. And the only way to get a kid to read is by letting them find the right book. No one can—or should be allowed to—make that choice for them.

Katie Gutierrez: Books are the first place so many of us see ourselves—our history, our beauty, our complicated thoughts and emotions and relationships. We puzzle ourselves out through reading, and discover the world outside our own small ones. I wouldn’t be the reader, writer, or even person I am today without the unfettered access I had to books growing up, and that’s a right every person deserves. It’s a right I believe all authors should fight for. Recently the author Jean Kwok flew from the Netherlands to Doylestown, PA, to attend the Central Bucks school board meeting in defense of her novel, Girl in Translation, which is in danger of being banned for “sexually explicit” content. The reality is that book bans can come for any of our work at any time, and if we’re not willing to stand up against these bans with our voices, our written words, our social media platforms, and our votes, what are we even doing here?

Julie Buxbaum (nominated for Best Juvenile – The Area 51 Files): Authors have a responsibility to be vocal and clear about their opposition to book banning, especially those of us who write for children. I traveled to Florida recently for school visits, and I teared up multiple times hearing about how classroom teachers are having to empty their libraries, how librarians are overrun with book challenges, how books that deal with undeniable facts about our history are being taken off shelves, and about how many people are scared (or leaving the profession) because of new fascist state laws. And of course bans like these are sweeping across the country. These librarians and media specialists are at the forefront of this fight, and we need to show our support. Not all heroes wear capes. Some push library carts!

I am terrified and heartbroken this is happening in our country in 2023. Every author—every person in America—should be too.

Stephen Spotswood: The stifling of one voice diminishes every other. It’s our responsibility to defend those writers these bans are targeting, to amplify their voices, and to act as if it’s our own work that’s on the chopping block. I’ve spent a lot of time learning about the waves of censorship and subjugation that swept across the nation in the middle of the last century. These things don’t just peter out. They grow and crest and overflow, leaving decades of silenced voices in their wake. Our responsibility is to speak up now and loudly.

Carole Lawrence: I think writers owe it to themselves and to their colleagues to speak out in favor of free speech, artistic expression, and diversity. If the pen is really to be mightier than the sword, we all have to pull together and wield our weapon of words. Silence equals complicity. Some people advise writers not to be political on social media, but to me that’s a cop out. I post political opinions all the time.

Marthe Jocelyn (nominated for Best Juvenile – Aggie Morton Mystery Queen: The Seaside Corpse): We need to keep writing what we care about and to make clear from every podium that we cherish being on a bookshelf with voices from every culture and identity.

Carol Goodman: I think it’s the responsibility of every author to stand up against banning books in schools and libraries. As a teacher I’ve seen how literally lifesaving it is for young readers to find themselves in books. Young people need a wide choice of reading that represents all the facets of identity and experience.

Michael Craft: As a gay man who’s been out for 54 years and publishing fiction for 30 years (most of it in the mystery genre), I have keenly felt the responsibility to populate my stories with diverse characters and issues—relating to gay people, certainly, but also to an overall diversity of gender, race, ethnicity, age, privilege, and such. To me, it’s important to depict these people and their issues with an open and honest heart, warts and all. Creating these depictions in print, which is meant to last, gives them a better shot at withstanding the current political wave of narrow-mindedness.

Eva V. Gibson: There can be no pretense of freedom in this nation if those in power are allowed to restrict and dictate what we read and write. The book bans are increasingly coming off as a smokescreen for the true intent: not to ban the books, but to ban the ideas and realities contained in those books. To ban discourse and visibility. To eventually ban the people themselves—on-page and off. The responsibility of authors in all this can’t be covered by a blanket statement when so many are limited in their actions by platform, personal circumstances, or marginalization. Authors who have the reach and clout to safely do so can protest publicly, but even those who can’t speak up can make their voices heard in the voting booth, by electing representatives who value human rights and the First Amendment. They can show support in the marketplace, by buying the books being targeted and requesting them in their local libraries, especially those written by lesser known authors who are more likely to slip into obscurity than the bestsellers. Authors, above all, can continue to write our own uncensored truths, and support each other in telling the stories we want and need to tell. Any action taken is better than none, and it doesn’t need to be announced on social media to count.

Sulari Gentill: To be able to write, to have your work reach readers, is a privilege afforded to relatively few. For me, that privilege comes with a responsibility to truly be a champion of literature, to not only stand against book bans but to be part of the fight. Civilisations live on through their art, the stories of their passions and their struggles, their beliefs and their failures… we know the ancient Greeks through their mythology, and epics like the Iliad and the Odyssey, stories which have influenced books for millennia. The banning of books aims to remove a part of the stories of our civilisation. I think it is the obligation of those of us who not only love literature but believe in its power to open minds, to resist with all of our hearts and influence

Louise Luna: Stay vocal and supportive and pissed off. As I write this, I acknowledge I’m not doing enough. In fact, I’m not doing anything except sighing angrily at the TV and certain Instagram posts. I need to do more. Refinery 29 just put out a great piece with a lot of resources. I’m going to make a donation to the American Library Association (ALA.org) today and hope everyone reading this will too.

There is a bottle of Hendricks Gin in our apartment. The label on the back reads, with regards to itself, “IT IS NOT FOR EVERYONE.” For the books in question, instead of banning them, and maybe for all books, we could add a little disclaimer – “THIS BOOK IS NOT FOR EVERYONE.”

Related note: I don’t like bananas. I think they’re mushy and weird. And maybe even certain bananas offend me. But I don’t need them eradicated from the planet. Bananas are not for everyone, but that doesn’t mean they’re for no one.

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