I don’t get it. What is the pleasure in thrillers? Whether novels, nonfiction books, or movies, thrillers are calculated to scare you…and this is supposed to be GOOD? Where is the pleasure in being frightened? Where is the pleasure in having your pulse rate rise and your heart race?
I don’t write thrillers. I don’t read thrillers. And I don’t watch thrillers.
I don’t read romances either, but at least I understand their appeal: Happy endings, overcoming obstacles, maybe a good cry somewhere along the way…. Though I’m not a devotée, their appeal is easy to understand.
But thrillers? And other scary books? I didn’t like ghost stories as a kid, either. Even then, I didn’t enjoy being scared and didn’t understand why others did.
I still don’t. Where is the pleasure in being frightened?
I did read a scary book once, years ago. I regretted it—it upset me for quite a while afterward. THE TAKING OF PELHAM 1-2-3 takes place on a New York City subway train, and I have a fascination with the city’s subway system. After reading that book, though, I vowed never to read any kind of scary book again. It was a vow I’ve found VERY easy to keep.
I realize I’m in the minority. And I’m not putting the knock on thrillers and other scary books. There must be a reason that so many people like them.
But I’m damned if I understand it!