Why I Have "Bookish Trust Issues" : fair play mystery purist

Life is Too Short for Lazy Writing: Why I’m a Fair Play Mystery Purist

Let’s be honest with one another, shall we? Life is far too short, and my TBR pile is far too tall, to tolerate books that don’t respect my intelligence.

I am that friend. You know the one. I will happily spend four hours deconstructing the intricate mechanics of a magic system over a cup of tea, but the moment a mystery "cheats"? I’m out. Which makes me a fair play mystery purist.

The Art of the Betrayal

There is nothing quite like the sting of a lazy twist. If a detective suddenly produces a crucial clue in the final two pages—one that we, the readers, were never shown—that isn't clever writing. It’s a betrayal.

I don't mind being outsmarted. In fact, I crave it. I want to look back at page fifty-two and realise the answer was staring me in the face the whole time. But I refuse to be lied to. If the author hasn't laid the groundwork, the "reveal" feels hollow, like a cheap magic trick where the assistant was hiding in a trapdoor the whole time.

The "Ick" of Hollow Spice

And don’t even get me started on the "spice" for the sake of spice.

If an intimate scene doesn't move the plot forward or peel back the layers of a character’s messy, complicated soul, it just feels... icky. It’s like a commercial break in the middle of a high-stakes film; it breaks the tension rather than building it.

I’m craving that delicious, agonising tension—the kind that lives in the things unsaid. Give me a morally grey fae prince who would burn the entire world to the ground for the lead, but keep the bedroom door firmly shut, thank you very much. The electricity is in the eye contact, the whispered threats, and the shared trauma, not the mechanics of the bedroom.

Pretty Covers, Deeper Stories

I am building a world here where the covers are admittedly pretty (we’re only human, after all!), but the stories inside are deeper.

I want mysteries that play fair (mostly), humour that has a sharp, snarky edge, and emotional stakes high enough to leave you breathless. I want characters who feel like real people—flawed, brilliant, and occasionally irritating—navigating worlds that feel as tangible as the one beneath our feet.

Let’s Get Catty

I want to know your "deal-breakers." What is the one thing an author can do that makes you want to hurl the book across the room?

Are you a "fair play" purist like me, or do you just have a visceral hatred for a hollow plot? Let’s get a bit catty in the comments—what’s your biggest bookish "No-No"?