Books like The Eighth Detective

This list wouldn’t be complete without a story about a journalist in peril.

Reporter Camille Preaker returns to her hometown to cover the murder of teen girls after she’s been through a tough time herself. As she covers the story and meets some interesting characters, she begins piecing things together, never realizing how close she is to the true danger. 

Camille has had a rough past, which colors her worldview and her judgment. The book explores how grief and trauma aren’t easily overcome and can’t be shelved simply because time has passed and other people have told you to move on.

I love the notion that sometimes danger is much closer than you think. As readers, we care and worry about Camille as she attempts to not just report on this story but also crack the case.

I’m not only a mystery/suspense writer but also a fan of the genre, as I read or listen to about forty whodunnits a year, just under one a week. I tend to read these books with one eye toward the superficial story, yes, but I also study them from a technical standpoint, saying to myself, “Oh, I see what the author did there,” “Man, that was a nice way to frame that conflict,” or, “What the hell? I think the author wrote that chapter by getting drunk and taping crayons to their feet.” The point I’m trying to make is that the plot devices and metaphors tend to blur together after a while. 

But this book? Man, it stood out. I mean, Kat Rosenfield had me hook, line, and sinkers with the book’s opening line, “My name is Lizzie Ouellette, and if you’re reading this, I’m already dead.” It's… show more.

Three things landed this book on my list.

First, I love the ol’ book-within-a-book mystery trope, and this is probably the finest example I’ve encountered. Again, an editor reads her dead author’s book for clues, and I got to experience that in real-time with her. Second, the central clue around which the story revolves—the dead author’s note explaining why he ostensibly committed suicide—and its role in resolving the mystery was one of the most original formulations I can remember in recent years. It was nicely done. Finally, the story within the story hearkens back to the Golden Age of detective fiction, an era for which I have a soft spot (as a glance at the amount of Agatha Christie on my bookshelves will attest).

Since finishing it, I’ve recommended this book to a half-dozen people and have yet to have somebody tell me later that they weren’t happy with the… show more.

I absolutely loved this book. Sarah Morgan was nothing if not faithful. I don’t know if I could have been. But high-powered attorneys don’t think the way I do. I kept turning pages and more pages. I could not put it down.

I am an avid reader but, until recently, had not read a lot of psychological thrillers. I didn’t know what I was missing. Part of me likes crawling into someone’s fictitious mind; part of me thinks I should stay out and just watch (read) the action. It’s that curiosity thing that keeps me up at night when I know I should be sleeping. 

I admit it: I underestimated Flavia de Luce.

She is 11 years old, self-schooled, and lives outside a small English town in the 1950s. She is overlooked and underestimated by everyone. Deep inside, I’m still 11 years old, underestimated, and overlooked. I had an insatiable desire to learn about my environment, and I often saw things others didn’t. Flavia also reminds me of my childhood living in the country in the 1980s. I ran unchecked, safe, and constantly delighted in discovering new things about my corner of the world. I wince at the de Luce family politics. I cheer Flavia’s investigations and her fearlessness. I want nothing more than to stay in Flavia’s 11-year-old world forever. She is the kick-ass kid I wanted to be. 

Christian Klaver is a relatively new writer on my Sherlock Holmes radar, but his book Sherlock Holmes and Count Dracula is an entertaining one.

The style of this book is fascinating, as it’s less a novel and more a collection of interconnected short stories. As I said, I’m a big fan of Holmes and Horror, so the promise of Count Dracula was too difficult to resist. And I wasn’t disappointed.

The stories are a fun imagining of a meeting between the Great Detective and the Count and there’s even a little H.P. Lovecraft thrown in for good measure.

A Japanese ghost story, set in an imaginary, contemporary, Japanese town by a Singaporean first novelist.

I picked this out at Brighton Library because I liked the cover, but Clarissa Goenawan's Rainbirds has survived the goodreads treatment, so hopefully she's a writer to watch (I mean, there will be more of these).

Readers have recalled Haruki Murakami, because it's allegedly Japanese, and a bit off-kilter, but to me this dreamlike narrative seemed fresh and floating: ungrounded, not alienated. I thought of another Japanese writer, Kazuo Ishiguro, & The Buried Giant: a misty, off-kilter take on Arthurian Britain, in which everyone seems either asleep, or else making the journey the dead make to wherever they go, while dreaming the novel's action...

No, I give up, I can't explain the charm, you'd have to try it and see, & yes, those are goldfish, not any kind of birds on the cover, and… show more.

C. J. Sansom, a historian, died just recently, but he’s left a legacy of historical crime novels based around the time of Henry VIII. The main character is a charismatic, hunchbacked lawyer called Matthew Shardlake.

If, like me, you like books with strong characters, then, together with Sansom’s skill at weaving in the sights, sounds, smells, political shenanigans, and countless characters of Tudor England, Tombland is a fantastic read. It’s a long book (800 pages), so take your time on it, but I think this is historical crime fiction at its best. 

No matter how much you may love a certain genre, you can inevitably fall into a reading slump. Too much of a good thing, right?

I will begrudgingly admit, the “missing” or “murdered girl” trope can sometimes get a bit dull without a new touch. Which is why when I came across Megan Miranda’s adult debut told entirely in reverse (from Day 15 to Day 1) was I ever floored with delight!

How absolute genius is it to take a twisty, shocking story about the disappearance of two girls, decades apart but give it to reader backwards? I found myself deeply engrossed not only in the propulsive story but intrigued by the unique way I had to process the timeline.

The complicated and wonderful characters in Mia’s family really drew me in. They all have enough to deal with: the pandemic; Mia’s first breakup; her complicated relationship with her twin, who seems to do everything right; their brother Eugene’s disabilities, which mean he’s often discriminated against or underestimated; and their parents’ struggles to keep it all together and move on from heartbreaking false hopes.

When her father disappears, Mia doesn’t let her other problems or even the fear and heartbreak get in the way of her determination to find out the truth–no matter how painful–and protect Eugene from unjust suspicion.

I loved the role the complex bonds between the various family members came to play in unraveling this case and coping with its ramifications.