The best psychological books with mystery elements that take you into the characters’ heads

A book rarely brings me to tears. I didn’t know what to expect when I first picked up this one. The main thing I love about this book is that it takes you right into the head of the main character, who happens to be a very precocious nine-year-old boy. Outwardly, the main character is on an adventure to solve a mystery, but inwardly, he’s on a journey to come to terms with his father’s death.

The protagonist–who, on the surface, is nothing like me–made me feel and address things I had not come to terms with in my life. I felt myself struggling along with the character, and then I ultimately began to heal with him, too. It’s a powerful, tragic, yet absolutely hilarious story that allowed me to forget myself for a while before realizing that I was learning about myself the entire time I read it.

I didn’t get pulled into one character’s head in this book, but two. What I enjoyed most about this book is that the balance between the mystery and the characters’ struggles is equal throughout. I cared about both protagonists and was routing for them to achieve their goals (and defeat their enemies) while anxiously awaiting the resolution to the mystery.

While reading, I often had to stop ruminating about the kinds of people in the world. This book is dark, exhilarating, and sometimes horrifying–and I loved every page of it.

I appreciate that this is a slow burn. It’s the perfect way to unfold a mystery while focusing on what’s going on in the character’s head–and, let’s face it, this book is really about the character more than the mystery. Don’t get me wrong: the mystery is still there. It’s strong. It’s interesting. But the protagonist–and what happened to her–is far more thrilling than the murders are.

I was stuck inside her head all the while I was reading, and I was uncomfortable. She made me squirm. This book reassessed my view of other people, making me more compassionate toward them–and wary.

This book took me into a world of darkness. That darkness–so beautifully juxtaposed with the innocence of childhood–left a lasting impression on me, which I haven’t shaken to this day and which has greatly inspired my writing.

There is no one protagonist, so I found myself entering the minds of several young boys as they try to make sense of the situation they’ve fallen into. Once inside their minds, I followed each of them on their equally frightening paths and was shaken to the core to see that it didn’t matter who chose to be good and who chose to embrace their animalistic sides, as they each fell in one way or another.

Strange, dark, and twisted, I struggled to let go of these characters and still feel haunted by what became of them.

Whenever I feel trapped, I think about this book. Told in the first person, it brought me into the asylum and locked me in there with the other patients, and even once I finished reading it, I didn’t feel completely free.

There’s something I like to call “Hollywood Mental Illness.” Movies tend to sugarcoat mental disorders and make them seem fun and entertaining. This book does nothing of the sort. I felt the isolation, the fear, and the sheer panic that these characters faced, like a huge, heavy ball in the pit of my stomach and a zigzagging anxiety that repeatedly paced across my mind. What makes it so dark and frightening is that it’s routed in so much truth, which makes it such a compelling story.