Mysterious Matters: Mystery Publishing Demystified

Those Fabulous Conventions of the Genre

I'm currently reading a mystery by a fairly new writer (alas, not one of mine!).  I'm halfway through the book and I am very impressed.  She is pulling off the conventions of the genre with skill and panache, and breathing new life onto every page. 

This has started me thinking about those stock situations in the genre that might be considered "tired" or overdone--but that I love nonetheless.  I admit that I am a sucker for the following:

1. THE LAST-PAGE TWIST.  I adore something unexpected on the last page of the book.  Some writers (for example, Margaret Millar) have even made it a practice to throw in a surprise on the last line of the book.  Not only do I not consider such twists unfair, I often consider them to be the mark of a particularly devious writer who has thoroughly succeeded in fooling me or leading me down the wrong path. 

2. THE SECRET PASSAGEWAY.  So there is a hidden room somewhere in the house, basement, or attic?  Or even a hidden drawer in a desk or escritoire?  I love those mysterious places, where bodies can be stored and family secrets preserved but hidden.   This device brings me back to my boyhood, where I was forever exploring and hoping to find such hidden treasure.

3. THE SHORT CHAPTER.  Even before James Patterson made such an art of the short chapter, Mary Higgins Clark was using this technique effectively.  I remember a one-paragraph chapter in her book The Cradle Will Fall.  At the time I was a bit horrified, as it seemed so un-writerly or lazy.  But as I've gotten older, I've come to see short chapters as the work of master plotters.  I also think the device is very reader-friendly, given how many things are warring for our attention at any given time.  Now, this doesn't mean that every book is well served by short chapters, but I think many mysteries are.

4. THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHARACTER.  Sounds cold-blooded, doesn't it?  One of our conventions is that our heroes/heroines/protagonists must reap the rewards of solving the mystery by living to see another day.  But every so often a writer has the guts to kill somebody off.  This can be totally heart-wrenching and memorable.  I am thinking of one specific example, but I'm afraid I now can't cite it because it would end up being a major spoiler.

5. THE CURIOUS OBJECT.  Perhaps it's a misshapen piece of metal found near the crime scene, or a small chunk of lace discovered near the body.  I like when there's some sort of unique physical component to the crime--for me, it can ground the mystery in reality and give the sleuth good evidence with which to begin the investigation.  BUT:  I loathe serial killers who leave bizarre calling cards (an orchid, a coin from ancient Rome, a Simplicity pattern) on each corpse.  This has been done to death!

6. THE HINT OF THE SUPERNATURAL.  I love a good ghost story, and I get quite a thrill from a mystery that makes use of the hint of a ghost, or a ghostly figure, or something of the sort.  McBain did a really nice job with this in Ghosts.

7. THE ANCIENT DIARY.  It's always fun to read/eavesdrop on someone's private life by reading their private diary.  It's been done a lot, but I love this technique; as it's a very good way to gain some insight into a character (or, frequently, the victim).  Caveat: I don't like when the sleuth stumbles on the murderer by finding his or her diary of depravity.  That seems like a cheap plot resolution to me.

8. THE FAMILY SECRET.  Very little is shocking these days, but there was a time when families closely guarded their secrets.  Perhaps the secret was an out-of-wedlock birth, an insane relative, a history of embezzlement....  In the right hands, the search for this secret can be a very effective way of building character and context.  I know that my parents kept secrets from me and my siblings as I was growing up; and I will probably go to my grave not knowing what they were.  This is probably why I enjoy the unraveling of such secrets in fiction.

9. THE AMBIGUOUS ENDING.  OK, what exactly happened in that last chapter?  What did that mean?  While a mystery often answers all of our questions, sometimes the last chapter will raise more questions.  Rosamund Smith (aka Joyce Carol Oates) has pulled this off very effectively in some of her books, including Lives of the Twins, Snake Eyes, and Nemesis.    I love when an author takes charge and makes it clear to me that I am not to know all the answers, whether I like it or not.

10. THE HAPPY ENDING.  So--the heroine has found true love, the killer is in jail (or at least brought to justice), the best friend has found happiness, and money flows to all the worthy characters.  "God's in his glory, and all's right with the world."  Maybe it's not realistic, but it sure does feel good to see the worthy prosper in the end.  And there's nothing quite like closing a book with a satisfied smile of contentment on one's face.

Falling in Love

In response to a recent post, a commenter said thusly:

Interesting that you watch for, and try to anticipate, trends. I just met a senior editor at St. Martins who told me he didn't--that "falling in love with a manuscript" is the only criteria. Is one view more wide-spread?

I think there are as many approaches to editing/acquiring as there are editors.  However, I do think that many of us watch for trends, while others tend to go more with their guts.

The phrase "fall in love with the manuscript" is thrown around a lot.   I think it's used more in the negative sense than in the positive sense.  In other words, you hear "I didn't fall in love with the manuscript" a lot more often than you hear "I utterly fell in love with this manuscript."  Of course that might be because many more books are rejected than accepted for publication.

I do think that "falling in love" can be parsed out, however.  Why would an editor fall in love?  Some possibilities:

• The characters and story are so compelling that the editor is convinced that the reading public will want to spend their hard-earned dollars to read about them and their adventures.  So, in this scenario, falling in love is based on marketing.
• The book seems like a guaranteed best-seller.  I would instantly fall in love with any mystery manuscript that Oprah's agent sent to me.  This is a very pragmatic sort of love that is based on the bottom line.

I think what I'm getting at is that, in any commercial publishing venture, the feeling of love is someway, somehow supported by the idea of selling a lot of books.  So, despite the emotional connotation of the word "love," what we're talking about is really a very practical consideration.  Think of it not as wild, passionate teenage love, but rather the more experienced love of two people who meet in their 50s and decide that a future together is mutually beneficial.

HOWEVER... I do think that "falling in love" is a good catch-all phrase for that feeling that an editor gets when s/he reads a manuscript that is clearly "it."  It's often that giddy feeling of first love, of reading page after page, waiting for problems to creep in and getting to the end and realizing that there are no problems (or, at least, no problems that can't be easily fixed).  It's that feeling of having found something unique or distinctive that can find a place in a massively overcrowded field, in a world of sensory overload.  That sense of "Wow, this is absolutely great" rather than "This is very good, with some changes" or "This has a lot of potential, if only..."  or "I want to like this more, but I can't get over the following reservations."

One other note about trend watching and trends in general:  As an editor, there is nothing greater than acquiring an author who starts a trend.  I think we can safely say that Patricia Cornwell's books spawned an entire multimedia industry based on forensic science.  Stephen King brought horror back onto the bestseller lists, after a long absence.  Sue Grafton created Kinsey Millhone, who became the prototype for many, many contemporary heroines and series characters.  Jonathan Gash was the first to do antiques, and there are now many others.  While I sometimes joke that publishing is always a year behind, sometimes we are way ahead of the curve....

The Days and Nights of an Editor, Part 2

So, continuing from my last post, what exactly is my job?  What do I do each day?  These are the hats I wear.

1. INVESTMENT COUNSELOR.  (See previous post.)  At the core, my job is to find and publish books that make money for the company.

2. TREND WATCHER.  I believe that to be a good editor, you have to be a good trend watcher.  This means not only being aware of what's going on in the news, but also trying to keep a watch on they way people are thinking, behaving, and reacting.  Some wag (perhaps it was me) once said that the publishing industry is always a year behind everything else, but that doesn't have to be the case.  The best editors understand what people are responding to and get books in the pipeline that people will want to read.  And REALLY superb editors look for, or commission, books that even those who don't usually BUY books will want to read.

An example I can give is the well-known, and sometimes over the top, Judith Regan.  She looked around and saw the massive following that Harold Stern has/had among the young.  So she got him to write his autobiography and watched as it sold like hotcakes.  She's pulled off this trick time and time again, and I have great respect for her in this regard.

So, what are today's trends?  Well, certainly the desire of young men and women for celebrity and fame seems to have become a staple of today's young people in America.  Look at American Idol and all those reality shows.  Other industries have made a mint off this desire--look at the technology industry, which sells cell phones with text messagers to people who receive social validation from the incessant beeping of their phones--but publishing hasn't yet.  While I personally loathe Paris Hilton (who doesn't?), I wouldn't mind AT ALL getting a manuscript about a young jet-setter from a wealthy family who goes to all the best parties, sleeps with all the sexiest stars, and solves crimes between bringing her teacup chihuahuas for grooming.

3. CHATTER WITH AGENTS.  In the big houses, the editors spend a good deal of time communicating with agents, who pitch work to us on a regular basis.  In the past there was a lot of in-phone and in-person bonding; now it's mostly email, except of course for the really hot properties by people who are already known in other areas.  Agents have the role of serving as the very first line of defense--they are the people who winnow through millions of queries and manuscripts to send us what they think are the best, most saleable manuscripts.  In that regard, they perform a valuable service.  On the negative side, the role of them as an intermediary has driven up prices paid for books, and made it tougher for all of us to make a profit.  Now that I work  at a smaller house, I don't have as much contact with agents, because I'm not able to offer big advances.   And, truth be told, I don't miss agents much.  This is not to say they are bad people--in fact, many of them were once editors.  But I don't need an agent to do the part of my job that I like best.  And that job is....

4. READER OF MANUSCRIPTS.  I usually set aside a day or two each week to read manuscripts, sample materials, and query letters.  I've been doing this job quite a while, and this is the area that still gets me the most excited.  I open every envelope and manuscript with a sense of anticipation, wondering if it'll be something fabulous.  Sometimes I know right away; sometimes I pass the materials to a colleague to ask for his or her opinion.  What I do like to do is always give every query a fair shake.  Even if I'm not grabbed in the first five pages, I'll soldier through another 20 or so pages, looking for the potential.  (After all, some very good writers are s-l-o-w starters.)   If I've promised to read a manuscript, I read the whole thing, even if I lose interest halfway through.  Writers do put themselves--their souls--on the line when they submit these materials, and I try to respect that.  But at the very core, this is the part of my job that is the most fun.

5. REJECTER OF MANY.  Yes, I am in the position of having to turn away (I think the more commonly used verb is "reject") more than 99% of the projects that come my way.  What I do find amazing among the rejections, though, is how many good kernels I can find.  Sometimes poorly written manuscripts have a good story underneath.  Even if the book isn't right for me, often I see a well-drawn character, a funny line, an interesting plot twist, and so forth.  So, when I reject, I do try to emphasize the positive.  I have found that many writers are grateful for this, and I do get satisfaction out of treating writers respectfully, as this is an industry that does beat them up a great deal.  Besides, it's just good karma to give a compliment when it is due.

6. COMMENTER UPON WRITING.  At the larger houses, most editors will write letters to the author, outlining their macro-level suggestions for revision or refinement.  I do that, too, but I also line edit the authors I work with.  I actually enjoy this process quite a bit, for I have a good eye--and I am really good at hacking away nonessential prose or boring scenes with a machete.    I just feel that I can have the best effect on a manuscript if I work on it at both a micro and a macro level, and most authors do appreciate this approach.  Based on our relationship, I understand better what is going on in the manuscript and can put myself in the author's chair as I make my suggestions.  The copy editors at some of the bigger houses can be terrific (Simon & Schuster's head copy editor is the stuff of legend), but many are freelancers, and some of them just don't get it.  I like to think I "get it" as I edit.

7. WRITER OF COPY.  I write the back-cover or flap copy, along with the materials that our publicist sends to reviewers or other interested parties.  It makes sense for me (and, indeed, for all editors) to do this, because nobody knows the manuscript better than we do.  In a sense, we give the publicists the language they need to talk about the book and the author.  This isn't to diminish the role of publicists, who are amazingly hard working and creative.  It's more to say that editorial and publicity work hand in hand, as they must in order to sign and publish successful books.  The best editors understand what a publicist needs to get traction on a book, and the best publicists know why editors feel so strongly about their books.

8. GOSSIP MONGER.  We do love our gossip in this industry, but more than that we know how word of mouth sells books.  So I'm forever dropping the name of this new writer or that new book, hoping to start a sort of viral word-of-mouth campaign that will soon land my books at the top of the best seller list.  I also keep my ears open on listservs and at the occasional convention to see which writer might be doing something interesting and which writer I would not want to touch with a ten-foot pole.  I always like to hear about which editors have signed books that I have rejected, and which books I have signed that others have rejected.  For example, I believe that there is an editor at St. Martin's who is me in the world of antimatter.  In the last two years, I have rejected three books that have been signed there, all by the same person.  I wonder if he or she thinks I am a complete idiot, having let so many good books slip through my fingers....

9. THERAPIST.  There's an old joke about editors being 10% editorial and 90% therapeutical.  Fiction has had great fun with crazy authors who drive their editors insane with their emotional uproars and drama.  That really isn't the case any longer.  Writers are so much more professional now than in the past, and most of them take their work very seriously, working long hours and weekends (and not spending time with friends or family) to make their deadlines.  So the therapeutic side of the editor's job has morphed into being an all-around supporter of the writer, a sort of gentle-but-firm parent who knows when to push harder and when to back off.  The books mean so much to their writers, and that level of devotion must be respected and appreciated.  After all, we are in this together.

10. BLOGGER.  Well, all right, this isn't an official part of the job for most of us, but I've been having fun with Mysterious Matters.  I started the blog as a way of blowing off some steam, of educating writers and the general public regarding what goes on behind the scenes.  I think it's very valuable for people to understand our business models and why we as an industry are struggling so much.  I like doing the blog, too, because it forces me to write--and a good editor really has to be a good writer too, I believe.   For those who have written or commented, my thanks; and for those who have criticized or complained, have no worries--I can handle the debate.  In fact, as one who's in the business of dishing out criticism (sometimes quite harsh) on a daily basis, I'd be a hypocrite indeed if I couldn't handle a little of it myself.

The Days and Nights of an Editor, Part 1

It sometimes seems to me that the world at large doesn't have a true sense of what we editors "do."  There are some who think that our job is basically that of a proofreader.  Others think we are the top of the pyramid, never putting pencil to paper but dictating what gets published and what doesn't.

The truth, of course, lies somewhere in between.

Ultimately, our role is that of investment counselor.  At the highest, or most macro level of our jobs, it's our responsibility to understand trends, as well as consumer behavior and the needs of the reading public.   In some cases, it's also our job to implement the company vision.  (For example, a press might have the goal of publishing more mysteries by women authors, or translating the best in mystery from around the world.  We base our jobs on the company's needs for its lists.) 

On the basis of our perceptions and experiences, we advise whether or not a book can be published, marketed, and sold profitably.  In other words, first and foremost it is our job to make money for the company.  When companies lose money, we lose our jobs.  We want the company to make money; and because all editors want to publish successful books, our goals are congruent with those of our employers. 

And what of the role of personal tastes?  Yes, this is a completely subjective industry, and much of it is built on gut instinct.  I can't speak for all of my colleagues, but I can speak for some of them, including myself, when I say that I think that a lot of us try to find the balance in publishing books that we "know" will succeed and books that we love and want to see in print.  (The two aren't always the same.)  So we may pick up a series with yet another sassy heroine because that's what sells; but we may also be working on something quirkier, darker, or more interesting that does something unique--and may or may not sell.  I always think the best editors find the middle ground and get to use both sides of their brain, acting as businesspeople but also as readers who love books, new writers, and new ideas. 

But this is just the big picture of what we do.  There are also what seem like dozens of smaller jobs we all have to do on a daily basis, and I'll write about that in my next post.  It's getting late, and besides, I think the longer the blog entry, the more boring it probably will be.  (I always try to keep these postings short, and they always get too long, which makes me feel bad for all the writers whom I direct to slash their manuscripts by 10,000 words.  Oh well--"do as I say, not as I do.")

"Entertain Us for Free"

It happened again this weekend.  The typical party scenario.  I am introduced to new people and asked what I do for a living.  Within minutes these new acquaintances are asking me for free books.  When I gently suggest that they buy them instead, I am given the cold shoulder, as well as resentful looks by the hostess.

I like to think I've mastered the art of educating people about how publishing works within the larger capitalist system, without being obnoxious.  (This weekend's hostess would disagree.)  I try to be polite, but here is what I want to say:

• You like music, you say?  Do you expect concert promoters to provide you with free tickets to concerts?
• You enjoy live comedy, you say?  Do you expect the management of Elaine's at the Seaport, or Catch a Rising Star, to let you in for free?
• You appreciate film/cinema? Do you think theater owners will gladly provide you with free movie tickets and popcorn?
• You adore opera?  Does Lincoln Center keep its doors open by providing free backstage passes to all comers?

OK, perhaps I am being a tad sensitive.  But at all adult levels of our society--from college students through the elderly--nobody seems to want to purchase books any more.  (The delightful outlier is young children, who often spend their allowances on books; but it's not as if children have direct purchasing power.)  How have we gotten to a place in society where people see free books as an entitlement?

Now, of course I am not talking about those on limited incomes, or library patrons.  I am talking about those who drive Mercedes and dine at upscale restaurants on a regular basis.  Those who will plop down $100 for a bottle of wine don't want to spend $14.95 for a trade paperback. 

This may be the diamond/water paradox in action.  Economists talk about this strange state of affairs, where people value something that's almost useless (diamonds) extremely highly, while valuing something essential to life (water) very low.  Thus we complain about our monthly $50 water bills while plunking down $45,000 for an engagement ring. 

I'm afraid books may have joined water in the category of perceived human entitlements.  We've all grown up with books, had them around us since our earliest days.  They're everywhere.  And because they're everywhere (like water), we don't see their extraordinary value.  We expect that they'll be there at no cost to us.

And yet we can't combine two hydrogen molecules with one oxygen molecule to create an unlimited supply of books.  Despite what Dannon and Poland Spring would like us to believe, water is water--it's all the same.  But every book is different, requiring a unique set of resources--author, editor, designer, cover artist, production department, printer, sales outlet.  We don't come up with a book formula and then mass produce them in various plants across the country.  (Well, OK, James Patterson does, but that's a different story.)  The final printed product provides the purchaser with hours of pleasure, or a lifetime of reference.   And all this for pennies per hour (all right, maybe a couple of dollars per hour for hardback novels).  Is it really so much to ask that the consumer be willing to pay for these benefits?

Of course, I speak from the perspective as a publishing professional.  I can't complain about a consumer looking to get a product cheaper by going into the used market, as I do it myself.  But my point is that this is not the car industry (and, as we all know, people will go without food as long as they can drive their leased, late-model cars).  There is precious little profit to be made in publishing, and we have to accept the likelihood of what may happen.  My predictions:

• The newly introduced HarperCollins model of no advances and no returns accepted may become the norm.  Hallelujah!  If this means that the Web becomes the only way to buy books, and traditional bricks-and-mortar bookstore must go away, then so be it.  (I'm sure I would feel very differently if I owned a bookstore.)  Let's face it--there is no other industry that takes back unsold inventory.  If you buy it, you should expect to sell it, and not pass on to me the cost of your bad decisions regarding your buying public. 
• Agents will become less and less likely to take on fiction, concentrating their efforts on the more profitable nonfiction markets.  The exception will be already established brand names.
• Authors will take on even larger roles in marketing and selling their own work.  As a result, some of the stigma of self publishing may go away.  If you think about it, it's odd that it hasn't already, as every other industry has welcomed self-starters.  Independent, self-financed projects are welcomed in Hollywood (think Affleck/Damon; Stallone).  Musicians set up Myspace pages, give away free MP3s, and work through word of mouth.  In the theater, there are many success stories of one-person shows written and performed by the same person.  In all these areas, the mavericks are admired.  In publishing, a self-published book is considered the calling card of a loser.  And yet I predict there will be more and more of it. There's no reason right now, for example, that Stephen King, James Patterson, and Mary Higgins Clark can't set up their own imprints and make a lot of money.  And that would be self-publishing, wouldn't it?
• Publishers will get stingier with "free books."  I personally advocate a model in which anyone who requests a reader's copy becomes ethically obligated to publish a review somewhere.   I do think it is all right (thought not ideal) for reviewers who are not compensated for their reviews to then sell the book in the aftermarket.
• Print runs will get smaller, and print-on-demand will grow.  To my mind, this development would re-balance the equation, with authors and publishers sharing in a product's success (and publishers not eating all the costs of a book that's flopped).
• Brand names will become even more important, and if you don't have a name already, it's going to get even harder to have your fiction published.  This is going to get worse before it gets better.
• The expectation that ANYONE can write a novel and become an instantaneous millionaire will, and should, go away.  The days when a novice writer could sit back, churn out a novel a year, and pay the mortgage on royalties are long gone.  In the novel writing business, at least, authors will need to see their efforts as a hobby, not a profession, for at least the first ten years of their writing "career," with the understanding that even after a decade, they may not be able to making a living by telling stories.  Publishing houses will stop enabling the belief that a first novel is worth $1,000,000 by returning to a model of low advances and higher royalties.

A Myriad of Mistakes

Recent emails to Mysterious Matters have indicated the desire for a bit more "dish."  One mischievous emailer asked if I would post a list of most overrated mystery writers.  Now, I cannot do that, as much fun as it would be (and as easy as it would be to write). 

As an alternative, I have dug into the slush pile to offer a list of things NOT to do when writing or pitching a mystery novel.

1. FIRST-PAGE SEX.  I was shocked recently to begin reading some sample materials and find some very acrobatic sex, described in detail, on page one.  Now, you may think this is a good way to begin your book with a bang (pardon the pun) and grab the reader's attention, but I can tell you it was most disconcerting...I actually thought it was an April Fool's joke.  It was not.

2. ALTERNATE SPELLINGS OF PROTAGONIST'S NAME.  In a novel I looked at recently, the author hadn't quite decided which way to spell her heroine's name.  On some pages it was Jayne, on other pages Jane.  I thought about suggesting that she just spell the name as Ja(y)ne throughout....

3. SINGLE SPACED MANUSCRIPTS.  Really, there is no excuse for this, as there are millions of books and Websites to coach writers in proper manuscript production/presentation.  A single-spaced manuscript gives the impression of thousands and thousands of words on a page, and the poor editor feels defeated before reading the first paragraph.

4. WORD COUNTS OF 150,000.  A writer noted casually in her cover letter that her word count was 180,000 words.  I was drinking a Coke at the time and almost did a spit take.  Please leave such tomes to Thomas Pynchon, or perhaps Umberto Eco, and keep your word count between 70,000 and 80,000.  Better to err on the short side--look at the Janet Evanovich books, with their 45-point type and six-inch margins....

5. OUTRAGEOUS CLAIMS.  It's fine to compare your work to that of Mary Higgins Clark or James Patterson, along these lines: "My work will appeal to those who enjoy the independent heroine suspense genre pioneered by MHC" or "My book is a thriller along the James Patterson lines, but with deeper characterization and a truer mystery component."  The following does not work: "Hey, Agatho!  Listen, I'm letting you in on a little secret.  Publish my book, and it'll sell more than John Grisham."

6. ORDERING THE PUBLISHER AROUND.  I love when a writer tells me how to contact him or her.  I've had people say, "I haven't enclosed a SASE, as email's a lot easier.  So, here is my email address."  Another favorite is: "Call me if you're interested, I sleep with my cell phone so I'll always answer it."

7. ATTENTION GETTERS THAT MAKE ME DIRTY.  I respect a good attention getter, but was it really necessary to include cinders from your fireplace in a ziploc bag with your query regarding your manuscript about a chimney sweep in Victorian England and the crimes she solves?  I thought about calling the FBI and having the office innoculated against anthrax.

8. PROVOCATIVE PHOTOS.  Yes, I admit that in this shallow business, we want you to look good/ hot/ sexy/ attractive/ desirable/ likable in your author photo.  But I am not more likely to publish your book if you send me a photo in a bikini, or -- in one case -- topless, because your book is about a stripper-call girl who solves crimes when not pole dancing.

9. ANNOTATED MANUSCRIPTS.  Your manuscript should speak for itself.  I do not need Post-Its throughout on which the author has scribbled explanations of what is going on, or even little smiley faces to indicate the presence of a joke.  Readers will certainly not have such aids as they are soldiering through...

10. THREATENING TO KILL ME.  I once sent what I thought was a nice rejection letter, only to get a response indicating ominously that I would "be sorry" due to the author's street contacts.  Note to authors: I like my murder fictional, and my victims not to be myself. 

Miscellaneous Top Tens

I was wondering the other day why we (as a society) love Top 10 lists so much.  I think it may have to do with the sensory overload we all experience on a daily basis.  A Top 10 lists often culls a large or infinite amount of data into something manageable.   And, of course, T10 lists are always incredibly  subjective, which makes compiling them so much fun.  They're a truly stellar way of presenting one's opinions as fact!

Herewith some Mysterious Top 10 lists from me.

Top 10 Ground Breaking Mysteries

I wish I could write a little more about each of these books, but I'm afraid I couldn't do that without some serious spoilers.  And I wouldn't want to ruin the treat for anyone, so I'll keep the comments vague, as everyone really must read all of these books.

1. And Then There Were None (Agatha Christie)--The ultimate locked-room mystery-cum-thriller, in which a series of well-executed deaths (pardon the pun) almost (but not quite) goes unsolved.

2. Murder on the Orient Express (Agatha Christie) -- The intriguing setting aside, Christie pulled off something entirely unexpected in the process of murder.

3. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (Agatha Christie) -- The book that divided mystery writers of the time into two camps: those impressed with her brilliance, and those who believe she cheated in a not-to-be-forgiven way.  It's still amazing, decades later.

4. Who Is Simon Warwick? (Patricia Moyes) - A slender, prescient mystery that explored gender bending (in a serious and respectful way) long before it became the stuff of daytime TV.

5. Innocent Blood (P.D. James) - Perhaps the first book by a "mystery writer" to be positioned as a "novel" rather than a mystery.  Ground-breaking at the time, it hasn't held up quite as well as I would have thought, but it's still a worthy read.

6. The Scold's Bridle (Minette Walters) - A brutal read that makes shockingly good use of an alternating timeline.

7. The Caveman's Valentine (George Dawes Green) - The ultimate outsider-as-sleuth book.  The "detective" is a homeless man living in Upper Manhattan's Inwood Park, and the novel is nothing short of poetic.

8. A Dram of Poison (Charlotte Armstrong) - A mystery without a murder, and an amazingly successful attempt to portray the best of humanity (which is not often the case with mystery fiction).

9. The Dream Walker (Charlotte Armstrong) - Another of Armstrong's innovative books.  In this one, we know all the details right from the get-go.  The suspense is the process of watching the events take place and learning how the plot was conceived and implemented.

10. An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (P.D. James) - Introduces Cordelia Gray, grandmother and inspiration to so many of today's female sleuths.  A good story, too.

With Honorable Mention to...

A is for Alibi (Sue Grafton) - The prototype for the "series character" and long-running series we have come to expect from today's mystery writers.

Top 10 Reasons to Read a Mystery

1. To escape a messy world with no plotline and no consistency of characters.

2. To match wits with a brilliant author.  If you figure out who did it, you win.  If not, you lose! (And, for me, losing is much more fun than winning.)

3. To see poetic justice being served, with the good ending happily, and the bad ending unhappily.  (As Oscar Wilde said, that's what fiction is all about.)

4. To learn something new: about a profession, a hobby, a locale, a period of history.

5. To have all your questions answered by the last page of the book.  (In contrast, in life, every answered question only leads to more questions.)

6. To completely re-write reality.  (In reality, murder isn't usually entertaining or cozy.)

7. To spend time with a protagonist who becomes like a friend to you--someone who's a lot like you, but who manages to get enmeshed in crimes no matter where s/he goes.

8. To scare yourself silly.

9. To lose yourself in a story that's richer, fuller, and more rewarding than an hour of television.

10. To share your reading experience with a friend, family member, or loved one. (There's no greater feeling than recommending a book you've loved to others.)

Top 10 Plot Devices That Make Me Want to Scream in Horror

1. Recurrent nightmares

2. Serial killer stalking, watching, and waiting

3. Revelatory coincidences

4. Narrative as psychotherapy for the author

5. Alcoholic, depressive cops and P.I.'s

6. 100 pages of backstory at the start of a novel

7. Descriptions of mundane events (taking a shower, brushing teeth)

8. Unending "primary color + noun" phrases: the blue curtains, her white teeth, his black hair, the yellow bananas

9. "Crazed murderer confessing all while brandishing a gun" denouements

10. Stumbling upon the murderer's identity via his/her diary; secret blog; videotapes

Come Back to Us, O Great Ones

Being in the business of finding new writers, I am always delighted when I think I have found one, whether I published the book or not.  There's nothing more exciting than thinking, "Wow, she could be bigger than Mary Higgins Clark," or "He could be bigger than Harlan Coben."  (No one could be bigger than James Patterson; he sucks all pretenders into his world of co-authorship.)

HOWEVER...that is not the experience I had this week, when I had to turn back dozens of manuscripts for all the usual problems.  That got me to thinking about who I miss the most -- amazing writers who are unfortunately deceased or no longer writing actively.  So herewith an appreciation of some first-class, much-missed, mystery novelists.

MARGARET YORKE

While her later books were uneven, during her prime Margaret Yorke was one of the best mystery writers of the day.  Many of her books centered around troubled families and some form of dementia or psychosis. She was at her very best in books like ALMOST THE TRUTH and CRIMINAL DAMAGE (both dealing with dysfunctional families) and in books where she throws a cruel plot twist on the last page, as in ADMIT TO MURDER.  The cover shown here comes from the period during which Yorke was published by Mysterious Press--probably some of the best covers in the history of mystery publishing.  When St. Martin's picked up Yorke, the covers became dark and brooding (and not nearly as effective).

PATRICIA MOYES

Does anyone remember Henry and Emmie Tibbett, that happily married couple who managed to solve crimes on their various vacations?  The Tibbetts had a marriage of normalcy--of friendship and help.  They liked each other, and that gave the books a real warmth.  But don't confuse a Moyes book with a cozy.  Moyes dealt with some very modern issues (in books like Who Is Simon Warwick?) while building fabulously tricky plots that would've fooled Hercule.

ED MCBAIN

The classic procedurals--the ones that really created the genre--all shared a similar approach to story telling: Teach your readers something about the way the police work, and give them a good story while you're at it.

Ed McBain worked this magic time and again, introducing us to the 87th precinct of Isola (literally the island of Manhattan rotated a quarter turn to left) and to the motley crew of the station house.  Steve Carella was strong and honest, and he set a good standard for all the other guys (and, in later books, girls) at the 87th.  McBain did it all--story, characters, suprises, pathos, usually in under 200 pages.  I miss these long-running police procedurals (I miss Dell Shannon too).  Who will be the next to deliver a really fine series of American procedurals?

MARY MCMULLEN

I have always had great respect for mystery writers who write good one-offs.  McMullen is a sometimes overlooked author who produced one great book after another in the 80s, among them A Grave Without Flowers, My Cousin Death, The Pimlico Plot, and But Nellie Was So Nice.  Later work had some disappointments (The Other Shoe was so awful I had to believe that McMullen didn't write it), but in her prime she excelled at short, tight mysteries that twisted and turned a good amount until a surpising resolution.

CHARLOTTE ARMSTRONG

In an oft-used quote, Anthony Boucher called Armstrong "a spell-casting modern witch."  I can think of no better description for this wonderful writer.  She managed to combined terrific, creative plots with believable characters who were just quirky enough to remain credible.  Her stories went far beyond the murder mystery; in fact, many of her books had no murder at all, which is why they were so often subtitled "A Novel of Suspense."  Of her trifecta of perfection, The Balloon Man, The Gift Shop, and Lemon in the Basket, my favorite is The Gift Shop, a high-speed treasure hunt that begins in an airport.  I don't believe there's anyone out there today who writes like her, and I think our genre would benefit from having an heir apparent.

He Lay in Wait, Watching...

Considering the following prologue to (or Chapter 1 of) a mystery/suspense novel:

He lay in wait, watching.  Soon she would arrive home, smelling of jasmine--that same scent that his mother had favored.  Perhaps she'd just be back from a shopping trip (God knows she loved to shop), and her arms would be laden with bags.  She'd be juggling the bags and her keys, not paying any attention to the shrubberies to the side of the house, which was shrouded in darkness.  All he'd have to do is creep up behind her and push her into the house once the door swung open.  He had no worries about being able to catch her in time.  Lean and lithe from his years a track-team champion, he knew he'd be able to cover the necessary ground in no time.

    After an hour her new Saab pulled up--the sporty red model he'd watched her purchase, but only after she'd driven a hard bargain with the salesman.  That was Lina Lorenz for you--she got what she wanted and made you feel as if she was doing you a favor by making you give it to her.  But tonight it was Lina's turn to give....

If I get one more manuscript with this type of opening, I am going to scream.

I think I know whom to blame: James Patterson.  He pulled this off like the pro he is in the first chapter of his breakthrough book, Along Came a Spider, in which the very brief Chapter 1 presents exactly this scenario and ends with the revelation that the watching lunatic/murderer was also the person who kidnapped the Lindbergh baby.

Wow--what an opening it was at the time.  And the book followed through on its promise, with those trademark short Patterson chapters alternating between the point of view of Alex Cross and the villain he was pursuing.  The plot and its resolution are simply fantastic, and the novel should be studied as a case study of the perfect pacing for a suspense novel.

But that was what--15 years ago now?   And the time has come to add to the "he lay in wait, watching" opening to my list of massively overused plot devices, right next to recurring nightmares and sassy, independent-and-sarcastic-but-with-a-heart-of-gold heroines.  It seems like every other manuscript I have seen lately opens with a variation on this theme--the murderer is waiting in the shrubberies, or in the storage closet of an office building, or in an unused out-building on an estate...the list goes on and on.  It is almost enough to make a poor editor paranoid, assuming that a crazed murderer could emerge from a corner at any time, brandishing a carving knife and some sort of kit that will allow him to eviscerate me and rearrange my body parts in creative ways that symbolize his psychosis.

The problems with the "he lay in wait, watching" opening are many:

• The device has become so stock, and so overused, that an opening of this type sends a signal that you aren't a very creative or dynamic writer.  First chapters have to grab the reader and draw him or her in.  You don't want your readers thinking, "Ho hum, I've seen this before, about a million times."
• This type of opening clangs a very loud bell that dings "Serial killer, serial killer."  Now, I may be alone in this, but to me there's a difference between a good mystery novel and a good thriller, and I usually think of serial killers as being the stuff of mass-market thrillers.  If you're writing a traditional mystery, there are many better ways to signal that killer is known to the victim, and vice versa.  This is part of what made those old Gothics by the likes of Dorothy Eden, Victoria Holt, and Velda Johnson so effective: The heroines knew their lives were in danger, and the sense of menace built slowly but surely. 
• While there are many effective ways of writing a novel, I usually don't like opening a book with backstory.  That can be effective in a prologue, in the hands of a skilled writer.  But many inexperienced writers use the "he lay in wait" prologue to signal the fact that the book is a murder mystery.  The structure goes something like this: First 3 pages: killer lies in wait; Next 47 pages: an introduction to the hero/heroine, along with full backstory and range of emotional issues; Page 50: Crime hinted at on pages 1-3 finally happens.  The problem is that this structure completely delays the story and turns the reading experience from novel to autobiography.  Now, of course the best writers combine character development with story, but we mustn't lose sight of the fact that the best mysteries balance plot and character simultaneously.

I do try to give all the manuscripts/proposals that cross my desk a fair shake, but lately I'm finding it difficult to read any further when I encounter this type of opening. 

Can We Enjoy What We Do?

I experienced a strange epiphany this past weekend.

My wife and I went to see No Country for Old Men, which I do believe deserves the praises heaped upon it.  However, my wife left the theater a very annoyed woman, for she had to explain the plot to me at every turn.  I think of myself as one of those people who would never talk in a movie theater, but it seemed as if every five minutes I asked her for an explanation of a twist, turn, or plot device. 

On the way out of the film, she exasperatedly said to me, "Agatho, you are a bizarre individual.  When you read a book, your eyes will be the first to notice a missing comma or an inconsequential detail that is inconsistent with another inconsequential detail 500 pages later.  So why on earth do I have to explain movies to you?"

That is a really valid question, and I've been pondering the answer.

It strikes me that as much as I love our genre, and as much as I enjoy my job, I have become incapable of reading purely for pleasure.  Yes, there are those books that I greatly enjoy as comfort food, but even as I am enjoying them, I am analyzing why they work so well for me.  I marvel at turns of phrase, oft-used plot tricks, a certain similarity of humor or wit, all while acknowledging why these things appeal to me.  With manuscripts, I'm looking either for that irresistable spark or that damning flaw.  I admire and read for structure, style, plot--all the "elements" of fiction, but I think I have gotten to the point where I just can't separate Agatho the editor from Agatho the casual reader. 

But with other forms of entertainment, I sort of let my mind go numb.  I'm not trained in film making or cinematic tricks, so I don't look for them and I typically miss them.  I haven't quite mastered (understatement of the year) the film maker's art, so I just sit back and let myself be subsumed by the cinematography, or sound track, or actors, or any other element I find interesting and appealing.  In general, I just pay less attention to films than I do to books.  In contrast, my wife is quite well schooled in film making, and she sees and appreciates (or is able to critique) every detail. 

The same goes for music.  I love it-- all kinds.  But the music experience for me is more visceral.  I want to be carried away by the strings, or the voice, or the arrangement, or the beat.  I don't think about how the words and the music fit together, or whether the chorus and verse match up, or any other criterion other than "do I like this song?"  I want to sing along at the top of my lungs (much to the chagrin of my children) to my favorite songs.  But I could no sooner write a review of a new CD than I could climb Mount Everest.  Music is there for me to enjoy, not analyze.

I wonder if poets can ever read a poem without critiquing it -- if novelists can ever read a novel without thinking what they woul have done differently -- if songwriters can ever listen to the radio without comparing their work to what's being played -- if painters can ever go to a museum and just enjoy without examining technique.   Do we all have a form of entertainment that we talk more seriously, while allowing ourselves a blissful ignorance (and more pure enjoyment) of other forms?