Three Queer Books About Crime, Secrets, and Survival

Why these three books belong together

Crime fiction and queerness have always had something in common. Both involve living outside the rules. Both demand sharp instincts. This week, queer crime and heist fiction is having a moment — new deal announcements point to a growing appetite for what readers are calling "be gay, do crime" fiction. That trend is worth taking seriously. These three books show that queer crime writing is not a niche curiosity. It is a full genre, with a real history and real literary weight. Here you will find one brand-new novel, one rediscovered classic, and one memoir that reads like noir. Together, they map the full range of what queer crime writing can do.

Killer Potential — Hannah Deitch (2024, Atheneum Books for Young Readers)

Hannah Deitch's debut novel came out quietly in 2024. It deserves more attention than it got. Killer Potential follows a teenage girl with a very specific skill set: she is good at surviving, and better at planning. The setup is sharp and the pacing is tight. Deitch does not waste sentences. The queer thread runs through the whole story without being announced. It is simply part of who the main character is. That restraint is rare and effective. The book sits somewhere between YA thriller and literary fiction. It is tense without being cruel. Deitch writes violence carefully — present but not indulgent. For readers who liked the moral complexity of We Need to Talk About Kevin but wanted something faster, this is the book. No Dutch translation exists yet. Available through online booksellers and specialist bookshops. If you enjoy crime fiction with real emotional depth, start here.

The Talented Mr. Ripley — Patricia Highsmith (1955, Coward-McCann / now available via W. W. Norton and Penguin)

Patricia Highsmith published The Talented Mr. Ripley in 1955. It has never gone out of print. Tom Ripley wants a different life. He is willing to take one. Highsmith wrote Ripley as a man who moves through the world by becoming whoever the moment requires. The queer reading of Ripley is not a modern imposition — it is there on every page. Desire, disguise, and the terror of being found out structure the entire novel. Highsmith herself was a lesbian who lived much of her life in Europe, writing about American men doing terrible things. That distance and displacement shaped her prose. The sentences are cold and precise. The tension never drops. The Talented Mr. Ripley is available in Dutch as De getalenteerde Mr. Ripley, published by De Geus. It has been translated multiple times and is easy to find in any Dutch bookshop or library. For readers new to Highsmith: this is the best place to start. For readers who already know the book: the recent surge of queer crime at festivals like Cannes is a good reminder of how much this novel still shapes the genre.

I'm Glad My Mom Died — Jennette McCurdy (2022, Simon & Schuster)

This book is not fiction. It is a memoir. But it reads with the structure and tension of a thriller. Jennette McCurdy was a child actor. Her mother controlled everything. I'm Glad My Mom Died is the account of what that meant — for her body, her identity, and her sense of what was real. The title is deliberate and exact. McCurdy does not soften anything. The queerness in this book is not the central subject, but it is present and handled honestly. What makes this memoir remarkable is the prose. McCurdy writes with dark humour and surgical precision. She does not ask for sympathy. She asks you to pay attention. The book became a bestseller in the United States, which surprised some literary critics. It should not have. Good writing finds readers. No Dutch translation exists at time of writing. Available widely online and in English-language bookshops. This is a book for anyone who has ever had to escape a version of themselves that someone else built. It sits naturally alongside other queer books about survival and the body — if that subject interests you, the earlier round-up on bodies, desire and getting older is worth your time as well.

What connects them

These three books are very different in form. One is a YA thriller. One is a mid-century literary novel. One is a contemporary memoir. But all three are about the same essential problem: what do you do when the world was not made for you? Crime — whether literal or metaphorical — becomes a way of answering that question. Ripley reinvents himself through fraud and murder. McCurdy escapes through honesty. Deitch's character survives through skill. None of these books offer easy comfort. All three are worth reading slowly. If you are looking for queer fiction that takes genre seriously, this is a good place to start. And if friendship and loyalty within queer crime stories interest you, this earlier round-up on friendship, loyalty, and betrayal covers related ground from a different angle.