True Crime on the Kindle: A Shocking True Story of Shame, Desire and Snobbery

I love trashy true crime novels. The kind of books for sale in the grocery store with titles like Death on the Highway: The Shocking True Story of Secrets, Murder, and Twisted Love or Lone Star Murder: The Shocking True Story of Love, Death, and Dark Secrets. You get the idea. These books usually have crime scene photos on the cover under raised glossy letters. In the middle of each book is a quarter-inch thick section of crime scene photos too shocking to put on the cover, plus, inevitably, the high school yearbook photo of the future killer, future victim, or both.

The master of the genre is Ann Rule. Her books almost always follow the same outline: Naive victim falls in love with someone who seems great on the surface, but inside is a seething mass of psychopathic tendencies. By the time the naive victim realizes what's going on, it's too late. The victim gets murdered in some horrific way, and even though everyone knows the killer was the psychopathic boyfriend or girlfriend, the police have to spend years building up a solid case. In the end, the killer goes to prison, where Ann Rule shows up to interview him or her. Voila! A bestseller is written.

I love these books without reservation. The more gruesome the murder, the more perverse the killer's tendencies, the stranger the evidence trail, the better. There's no shortage of these kinds of books; it's one of the most popular nonfiction genres in the US. But there's a problem: I feel bad reading them. I feel like everyone who sees me with my nose buried in Date Night Murder: A Grisly Tale of Secrets and Death knows that I'm just reading it for the titillating details. And they're right, I am. But I don't want to be judged for my reading choices! Sure, I'm reading trash now, I want to insist, but I majored in literature! I've read War and Peace, and I'm prepared to discuss it intelligently! I have a subscription to The New Yorker! I bought a copy of Jeffrey Eugenides' new book in hardcover! I'm so insecure about being judged that last time I rode on a plane I hid my trashy true crime novel inside a copy of Sky Mall.

Recently, though, I've found a solution. I didn't stop reading true crime, but I did stop feeling ashamed about it. Did I realize I'm a worthwhile person and I don't need to prove anything? Nope, I just found a way to hide my shameful habit. I've been checking out e-books from the Library's Overdrive service and reading them on my Kindle. On a Kindle, no one can tell what I'm reading. No one needs to know that I'm currently halfway through Die, Lover, Die: A True Story of Dark Secrets and Death. To the outside observer, I might as well be reading Little Women. Free from the prying eyes of the judgmental public, I've been able to read more true crime than ever! Right now Overdrive has about 20 true crime titles available for Kindle, and they're adding more all the time. Finally I can read all the shocking murder details I want without feeling like the world is looking down on me.

One of the things the move to digital books will change is the communal nature of reading in public. Reading is a solitary activity, but by reading in public you're broadcasting your choices and in some ways contributing to the conversation, even if you're not talking to anyone. I can glance at a book title and instantly feel like I know a little bit about the person reading it. This person likes mysteries, this person likes cooking, this person wants to know more about Steve Jobs. We lose some of that when we move to digital books. I might tell a stranger "I read that book, too," if I can see the cover. We might talk about it. We might become friends. But I've never asked a stranger what they're reading on their Kindle or Nook. If I can't see the cover, it seems like prying. Maybe by moving to digital formats we lose a little of our sense of community.

But at least no one is judging me for reading Murder at Midnight: The Shocking True Story of a Suburban Family's Descent into Lies, Dark Secrets, and Death.

You can find True Crime e-books on Overdrive here.

Note: None of the True Crime novels mentioned actually exist.

By Grace, Youth Services Manager at the Library Station.