100 books like The Invention of Murder

This book was written not as a work of history, but contemporary non-fiction by two reporters covering one of Canada’s highest-profile murder cases of the 1970s, the killing of Christine Demeter, a former model married to flamboyant Toronto businessman and Hungarian immigrant Peter Demeter. By Canadian standards, the authors had unprecedented access to lawyers and others involved in the 1974 trial of Demeter for the murder of his wife and benefited from evidence and a cast of characters straight out of a best-selling crime novel. Demeter was found guilty and while serving his sentence he was convicted of instigating two separate plots to have people kidnapped and murdered. By Persons Unknown broke new ground in Canadian true crime writing.   

Similar to my second choice, this American study explores the impact of a sensational unsolved death on early Victorian New York and America in general. In 1841 Marie Rogers, an attractive young woman who worked in a tobacco shop, was found dead in the Hudson River, suspected to be a victim of murder. The case was well covered in the press and exposed weaknesses in the city’s system of policing.  The author details how Edgar Allen Poe furthered early detective fiction in his story The Mystery Marie Roger, which although set in Paris borrowed heavily from the New York events. An example of how the public can make a celebrity out of a murder victim who is not from the elite.     

We all know that Grisham writes best-selling fiction that has been turned into several Hollywood blockbusters. But the most frightening book by this former small-town defence lawyer is his only work of non-fiction, an account of the wrongful conviction of Ronald Keith Williamson of the 1982 sex murder of Debra Sue Carter. Williamson, who was low-hanging fruit for police and prosecutors in Ada, Oklahoma, languished in prison for 11 years before being exonerated by DNA evidence. This book should be mandatory reading for police, prosecutors, and judges and is a useful reminder that public opinion and justice are often mutually exclusive.

This is a compelling Canadian true-crime tale that captures the atmosphere of early 20th-century Toronto and explores the intersection of class, ethnicity, and societal expectations of proper moral conduct by men and women during wartime. The Masseys were a wealthy Ontario family that amassed a fortune manufacturing agricultural equipment. In 1915 Carrie Davies was an 18-year old English maid working in the home of C.A. “Bert” Massey. She killed her married employer with a revolver in front of a witness and freely admitted carrying out the crime, explaining that he had been making sexual advances towards her. I enjoyed this book as it reminds us of how legal rules and arguments in the past could be overwhelmed by public pressure and cultural expectations. Davies, who many viewed as a heroine, was acquitted of murder by an all-male jury in less than 1 hour.       

A classic that, in my opinion, lives up to the hype. Why is it on this list? It’s an iconic example of a story that would never have been written were it not for the literary gates opened 68 years before by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

I particularly liked that although short, this story is in no rush to reveal this or that the way it most certainly would be if written today. I find myself rereading details and descriptions when faced with any issue that presents a duality. Books like this that live far outside their own pages, ones that are elevated to cultural iconography, will always intrigue me.

I had, how shall we say? managed expectations starting this book. A Frankenstein sequel? Really? But “pleasantly surprised” turned out to be an understatement.

I appreciated that the protagonist, Mary, battles misogyny in 1850s academia in a way that never feels forced or preachy. And the whole undercurrent of the discovered secret proved to be an enticing way to move the story forward. I’ve read some bad Frankenstein spin-offs, but this one kept my interest and did so with a risky approach to language that paid off.

This is such a fascinatingly researched book about the science during the time Mary Shelley created Frankenstein. I was surprised and enthralled to learn how many real-life Victor Frankensteins there were in Victorian England, all trying to be the first to reanimate a dead corpse. The accounts of grave robbery and, yes, even murder (The fresher the corpse, the better the experiment!) had me hooked throughout.

Also intriguing was how this macabre practice was deemed by many to be the cutting edge of science. I feel the theme is especially resonant today as we face our own life-creating hubris with Artificial Intelligence.

I picked up this book because it reminded me of a writing assignment I did in college. Instead of a traditional critical essay on Frankenstein, I wrote a “scene” in which Mary Shelley and Victor Frankenstein discussed the novel's themes. (I got a good grade if you are curious.) This isn’t the most lyrically written novel, but I loved the bold premise of bringing Victor into the real world to interact with the Villa Diodati group, telling them the unbelievable tale of his creation.

I admired the clever turns throughout, and the climactic discovery was well-earned. I’ve always been a fan of the fictional character stepping off the page. This one had me thinking long after I’d finished it.  

I find the Georgian era fascinating (kinda shows, right?) particularly in the years immediately after Waterloo.

Gardner (a pseudonym for prolific author Jennifer Ashley) presents us with a sleuth who is a former officer recently returned from the war. He’s limping in body and spirit, and the puzzles he solves take us from the slums and alleys to high society, and a lot of interesting places in between.

Lacey is grouchy, astute, sweet, and tenacious, I doubt I will ever tire of reading of his exploits. (And if he’s your jam too, you will doubtless enjoy Gardner’s Gladiator Mysteries, and her Belowstairs Mysteries.) 

Next, we have a true standout in YA—a novel that arguably revolutionized the mystery genre for teen readers.

While mysteries have long been a staple in YA literature, in my view, this book sparked a new age. This novel, now adapted into a popular Netflix series, firmly established YA mystery as a force to be reckoned with, largely thanks to its clever twist.

Taut, scandalous, and enthralling, this book exemplifies the blame game genre.