Dear TCL Readers:

First, some announcements of forthcoming events and workshops:

Tomorrow night at 7 PM at Books Are Magic, I’ll be in conversation with the Spanish writer Miguel Angel Hernandez about his just-translated autofiction The Pain of Others, one of the best recent examinations of the struggle to tell an ethical crime story. Details/register right here.

Next month I will be at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival, running from May 15-17, which will mark my first time in New Mexico. On the 16th at 10:30 AM I’ll be in conversation about Without Consent with the civil rights lawyer Kate Ferlic; the event is sold out (!) but here are the full details.

And on Monday, June 8 at 7 PM Central/8 PM Eastern, I will be leading an online masterclass, hosted by the fabulous StoryStudio Chicago_, on the use of archives in narrative nonfiction. I’m very excited to be teaching more making this workshop more widely available to writing students. It’s $75 to register and further information on the masterclass is right here.

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Last week I went to a press preview for “Mind of a Serial Killer: the Immersive Experience”, which opened on April 17 and runs through the end of June. I wanted to keep an open mind about the exhibition, apparently promoted quite heavily in a subway ad campaign all week (I didn’t see any of the ads myself) but anyone who has been reading my work for more than five seconds would know that I might have some issues with the very idea of an immersive exhibition devoted to serial murder.

TCL Readers, it was so, so much worse than I imagined. I wrote up my thoughts for Flaming Hydra, and here’s how it opens:

When I walked into the press preview for “Mind of a Serial Killer,” an immersive two-story exhibition running in Manhattan through June, I had a good idea of what to expect and what my reaction would be. Gift shop with “I put the HOT in Psychotic” T-shirts and serial killer puzzles and board games? Check. Banner rafters emblazoned with tabloid newspaper headlines about serial killers through history? Check. 

The pitch email promised an experience “that moved beyond the narratives and into the science of investigation” and “a lens to explore how human behavior, investigative science, and public safety intersect.” In her welcome comments LaKendra Tookes, the press night’s host, promised the VIP crowd that the exhibition’s organizers “weren’t glorifying serial killers,” but the giant photo array of killers’ mugshots behind her as she spoke said otherwise.

“So, it’s like CrimeCon meets Luna Luna?” This was the assessment of Elon Green, who was supposed to be my plus-one/emotional support crime writer but had to bail. And while that seems like an accurate assessment, it hardly seems fair to Luna Luna, a magnificent work of immersive art I was fortunate to see in the immediate aftermath of the 2024 presidential election. (I have yet to attend CrimeCon, so I have no official clue of the relative fairness here.) All I know is that I stuffed myself with canapés and side-eyed the selfie-taking influencers at the bar, which was serving cocktails with names like “Murder Kit” and “Perfect Alibi,” before venturing into the void. 

Read on for the rest, but also, the requisite content warning applies here. Is this exhibition the nadir of the true crime industrial complex? If not, it’s awfully close. And less so for the actual gore than for the faux-framing of “a better understanding” of the psychology of people who commit serial murder. Save your $32 on a new hardcover book.

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Speaking of books, I’ve been reading fewer, more slowly, by design. Middle age gives you a chance to rewrite your earlier narratives and the one about me being a speed-reader who consumes hundreds of books a year will probably end up remaining true, but I’d rather focus on quality than quantity.

In between columns, I finally read Kin by Tayari Jones which was the immersive experience I truly desired, a wonderfully rendered story of “cradle friendship” between Niecy and Annie that encompasses so much from race to class to hyper-gendered expectations to rollicking adventure to manners to tragedy but also, hope. I loved it unreservedly.

I also read vol. 4 of the On the Calculation of Volume series by Solvej Balle and this whole series is exactly for me, stretching forever-repetition of November 18 into realms I never expected. Now it’s about group dynamics and community-building. I can’t wait for volume 5 this November, and (I hope!) the final two installments next year.

Here, as always, is to pleasure reading and to engaging in art that moves you. That’s what I strive for, as a writer and a reader.

Until next time, I remain,

The Crime Lady