Read: "I Was Dora Suarez," by Derek Raymond (1990)

Why: An article in the Boston Globe recommended it.

It's a mystery set in late-1980s London. Crabby detective, kicked off the force for striking fellow officer in previous book in series, is called back to solve disgusting double murder. He finds the journal of one of the victims and starts to get into her head, fueling his need to find the killer and revenge her death and the death of all victims.

Takeaway: There's something sort of depressing about a book that tells the reader to anticipate a shock, anticipate it, anticipate it, then here comes the shock, and here it is! Shocked? Because it's just never as shocking as what you're anticipating in your head. Same goes with expressions of sheer beauty, like when you know someone's going to heaven, and what is it going to look like? This book starts with one shocking scene that you aren't set up to anticipate, and it really is a knockout. But the rest of the book revolves around three separate questions whose answers are meant to shock you too (What happened to Dora? What's upstairs? What's that guy doing in there?), and they're built up to and built up to, and then -- you get the answer and then, okay, you know. It's informative but not satisfying.

There's also a lesson about not tying your book to current events. A couple plot points in here have worn out their ability to shock; one in particular has become the punchline of a joke. It's one of the books I wish I could re-edit.