Hi Reader,

The house goes quiet around the same time most nights. The day's done and the only sound is the dog snoring on her chair, paws twitching at whatever dogs chase in their sleep. That's when I most like to reach for whatever crime novel I’m reading at the time.

Sometimes I'm in my own comfy chair in the lounge room. Sometimes I’m propped up in bed. The where isn’t so important, what matters is the quiet.

I don't think it's an accident that this is when the crime-fiction genre works best, at least for me.

Reading a thriller on a morning train or bus commute, or in a waiting room somewhere is good. It’s still an enjoyable story. But reading the same chapters late at night, when the house has settled and there’s no one to talk to, something shifts. The book stops being a book. The killer moves in and feels closer. The footsteps on the page line up, just for a second, with a clunk or a creak from somewhere else in the house.

You know it's only the dog turning over or the house settling, so you keep reading. But there’s something tugging at those thoughts in the back of your mind. Is it really the dog? Or the house? You’re deep in the story, feeling and hearing everything on the page as your heartrate climbs ever so slightly.

I think that sense of immersion comes down to a lack of distraction. Late at night, when the house is still, there’s nothing competing for your attention. There’s no daylight reminding you of everything that’s going on around you and the chores that still need to be done. It's just you and the page and whatever the writer has decided for you. The story closes in because there's nothing left to pull you out of it.

There’s also a fine sense of fear. The raised heart rate or unconscious holding of your breath. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good fear, the kind you've chosen to embrace and that you can close the cover on whenever you decide you've had enough. But, while your head knows the difference between ‘book fear’ and ‘real fear’, your body doesn't always differentiate. Your shoulders tense. You read a little faster. You notice your own heartbeat in a way you never do at noon.

Those are the moments most night readers recognise. You finish a chapter and tell yourself that's the last one before bed. Then you read another. Then one more. The dog hasn't moved, the house is still quiet, and you've stopped pretending you're going to put the book down at a sensible hour. I think we’ve all gone to work after not being able to quit reading the night before. The body might be tired, but there’s no regrets. Well, maybe a few, but nothing that would stop you doing the same again. And again.

Crime fiction is built to unsettle, and a quiet house gives it everything it needs to do the job properly. No noise, no interruptions, nothing to remind you that it's only a story. A really good book comes alive in that setting.

The early start tomorrow will hurt. But there's a chapter left. The book is calling, and I'm not going anywhere.

P.S. – Are you a night reader or a day reader? I'm convinced crime fiction belongs to the late hours, but I'd happily discuss it with you. Hit reply and tell me when you read, and whether the time of day changes the book for you.

KEN LYONS Author ​kenlyonsauthor.com​ ​​

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