From TikTokers and Instagramers to authors, book groups, and publishers, I follow the individuals who shape conversations in the book industry. Their voices reveal not just what’s trending, but how we talk about books—and that’s what fascinates me.
But fascination often gives way to frustration, because one question keeps surfacing: “Is this book worth it?” It pops up in reviews, forums, casual conversations, and it reduces the act of reading to a transaction. If you’ve spent any time online, you know exactly what I mean.
The threads. The snap judgments. The speed-reading-as-a-sport mentality. It builds, and before you know it, it’s overwhelming. Which is why Freida McFadden recently shared on Facebook a sentiment that hits differently: “I wish we could normalize NOT asking if a book is ‘worth reading.’ The answer is always yes.”
Her words cut through the noise. They remind us that the value of a book isn’t measured in likes, stars, or speed—it’s measured in what it reveals, what it stirs, and what it leaves behind.
Reading as a Craft—and a Cognitive Workout
Reading is not passive. It’s a craft.
To read crime fiction, psychological thrillers, or mysteries well is to notice the architecture of suspense, the rhythm of dialogue, the clues hidden in plain sight. It’s recognizing when a trope is being subverted or when a character’s psychology is quietly revealed.
But here’s the paradox: thinking too hard can make reading less enjoyable. Research in cognitive psychology shows that when mental effort becomes excessive, whether through overanalyzing or mentally rehearsing unrelated worries, immersion decreases and emotional satisfaction drops. Rumination in particular has been shown to increase cognitive load and mental fatigue, reducing the bandwidth needed to fully enter a story. When that happens, even a novel can start to feel like something to solve rather than something to experience.
You can hear the strain in the way we talk about books. “Is it worth it?” is rarely a question about the text. I suspect, it’s a symptom of reader burnout. Expectations get heavy. Joy gets replaced with pressure and instead of recognizing fatigue, frustration gets projected onto the book. Many quick, negative reviews reveal less about the story and more about the reader’s cognitive state.
Yet reading is one of the most powerful forms of mental engagement we have. A 2016 Yale University study found that adults who read books for as little as 30 minutes a day lived, on average, 23 months longer than non-readers—independent of education, gender, or wealth. Other research shows that reading emotionally engaging fiction enhances empathy and social cognition and that literary fiction in particular improves theory-of-mind skills—our ability to understand other people’s emotions and perspectives..
The craft of reading, then, is about balance, sharpening your awareness of structure and theme without losing the pleasure of narrative flow. Crime fiction and thrillers thrive on tension, surprise, and emotional velocity. Overthinking every clue doesn’t make the story richer. Rather, it steals the very suspense and enjoyment the author built for you.
Feedback as a Responsibility
Wildly successful authors like Colleen Hoover prove that popularity does not shield anyone from harsh reviews. In an interview with Elle, Hoover said “It’s never been a matter of wanting to impress people with my writing skills. Sure, I could probably spend more time on a sentence and write metaphors and stuff that I don’t do. But I don’t enjoy reading that, and I want to write what I like to read. And the people that criticized that kind of writing, could they write a better book? Probably. Have they? Probably not.”
Hoover writes for herself first—a reminder that art begins as personal expression, not a product designed to please everyone. Yet readers hold power. Feedback can be dismissive like “I didn’t like it” or it can be constructive such as “Here’s how the pacing affected my experience”. Feedback like this helps readers find the books that match their preferences, and authors perfect their craft. The best feedback acknowledges the author’s intent while articulating the reader’s response. It is less about judgment and more about dialogue.
That’s the kind of feedback I want to model here—thoughtful, specific, and respectful. Because when readers elevate the quality of their responses, they elevate the entire conversation around books.
The Larger Conversation
It’s from this fascination, and frustration, that Crime Fiction Musings was born. It’s a space for readers who want to look beneath the surface of crime fiction to examine how these stories work, why they grip us, and what they reveal about the world around us.
Here, reviews become investigations into narrative choices; recommendations unfold as invitations into moods, themes, and emotional textures; and adaptations are explored for what they expose about storytelling across different mediums. We also consider the culture surrounding books themselves: how stories circulate, how conversations form, and how communities build themselves around the tales they love.
This blog serves as a guide for readers who care about the craft of reading. That means offering practical insights into how to engage more deeply with a text, how to give feedback that respects an author’s intent, and how to stay informed about the conversations shaping the literary world.
Because at the end of the day, Crime Fiction Musings isn’t about verdicts—it’s about conversations. A place where every book has value, treated with the seriousness of cultural journalism and the intimacy of lived experience. Welcome.
Thalia Mercer is a writer covering mystery and thriller fiction, with a focus on book-to-screen adaptations and contemporary reading culture. She writes about why certain stories resonate—and how they translate beyond the page.
