The most popular novels predominantly focus on violence against women, why is this so popular and what does it say about us?
Violence against women has become one of crime fiction’s most familiar storylines. Through conversations with authors, readers and a psychologist, this investigation explores why these narratives remain so popular – and where the line between representation and exploitation lies.
Browse the crime and thriller shelves of almost any bookshop and a familiar pattern emerges missing women, murdered wives, stalked girlfriends, and female victims whose suffering drives the story forward. Despite growing conversations about misogyny, representation, and gender-based violence, stories centred on violence against women are still one of contemporary fiction’s most reliable formulas.
Recent UK bestseller lists continue to feature psychological thrillers and crime novels centred on missing or murdered women, prompting renewed debate about why this narrative is still so commercially successful. The question is why.
Are readers drawn to these novels because they reflect fears women already live with? Do publishers continue to commission them because they sell? Or has violence against women become such a familiar literary trope that the genre continues to rely on it?
As someone who enjoys crime fiction, I found myself asking these same questions. Repeatedly, I noticed stories about missing women, murdered wives and female victims dominating the shelves. It made me wonder why violence against women had become such a familiar fixture of a genre read by millions, and whether readers were searching for stories about violence itself or for something else entirely. Those questions became the starting point for this investigation.
The answers are far more complicated than a simple appetite for violence.
Why these stories continue to resonate
Crime novelist Charlotte Dolman believes the prevalence of these narratives reflects a reality many women still face.
“Violence against women is sadly still a reality for many women,” she says. “Crime fiction often explores our deepest fears, and for many readers those fears feel very real.”
Dolman’s perspective suggests that crime fiction is not creating women’s fears but responding to them. Rather than inventing dangers, many novels mirror experiences that women already recognise in everyday life and in the news.
Mary Picken, a member of the UK Crime Book Club, expressed an interest in books that investigated violence against women without abusing it.
“They dominate crime fiction because violence against women is very real and all too prevalent,” she said. “I’m not a fan of fiction that exploits this for misogynistic or voyeuristic reasons, but I am interested in why this kind of violence takes place and the terrible consequences of it.”
For Picken, the appeal lies not in violence itself but in understanding its causes and consequences. Her comments highlight an important distinction between stories that encourage reflection and those that use women’s suffering to create suspense.
Reading fear
According to Chartered Psychologist Kerry Daynes, many readers approach these novels as more than entertainment. Instead, they can become a way of understanding danger and imagining how they might respond to threatening situations.
“The stories are seen as educational,” she says. “Women feel they are training themselves to ‘spot the signs,’ which is reassuring.”
Daynes’ comments suggest that crime fiction can offer a sense of preparation. While readers cannot eliminate risk, these stories may provide a feeling of control in situations where women often feel vulnerable.
She also points to the role of justice. While many real-world cases leave victims and families without answers, crime fiction usually provides resolution.
“There tends to be a clean resolution in the end – the bad guy gets caught, or revenge is taken,” says Daynes. “That allows for a closure that women certainly don’t get in real life, so it can feel cathartic for some.”
For some readers, then, crime fiction may offer something reality often cannot: accountability.
Is it always about gender?
Not all readers see gender as the defining feature of crime fiction.
Crime reader and author Sam Dounis says the identity of the victim is rarely what attracts him to a novel.
“I read books that sound as though they’ll have a good story and characters; I don’t think about the sex of the victims. It’s more about who the victim is, rather than what sex they are.”
His perspective reflects another side of the debate. While some readers interpret these stories through the lens of gender, others approach them primarily as mysteries, focusing on plot and character rather than the victim’s identity.
When does representation become exploitation?
Crime writer David Mark argues that violence against women carries a particular emotional weight because society continues to view it differently from violence between men.
“Violence between men is routinely accepted as a tragic norm of the background landscape,” he says. “Consequently, the narrative choice to depict a female is frequently employed because it instantly taps into a far more potent, raw sense of collective injustice and moral outrage.”
For Mark, the issue is not whether violence against women appears in fiction, but how writers choose to portray it.
“The critical distinction lies between exploiting a trauma and exploring it with narrative integrity. Using violence as a mere plot device treats a female life as a transactional prop.”
His comments echo wider feminist debates about representation. Stories can raise awareness of gendered violence, but they can also risk reducing women to victims whose suffering exists only to move a plot forward.
Mark believes readers are increasingly aware of that distinction.
“Contemporary audiences increasingly call out exploitative tropes, demanding that stories confront real-world vulnerabilities with genuine empathy rather than cheap shock value,” he says.
Daynes believes some narratives cross that line.
“Where it gets darker and more concerning is the titillation that sometimes comes with these narratives,” she says. “The sexualisation of violence against women and girls has been escalating for decades in mainstream material.”
She warns that some stories risk encouraging audiences to consume violence rather than confront its consequences.
“These stories may then act as a ‘safe’ way to enjoy the turn on of violence, without having to truly empathise or consider what it means.”
A complicated relationship
Speaking with readers, authors, and a psychologist, one thing became clear: there is no one explanation for why violence against women continues to dominate crime fiction.
Some readers see these stories as a way of understanding fear, processing real-world anxieties and finding justice where reality often does not provide it. Others are simply looking for compelling characters and engaging mysteries. Writers argue these narratives can shine a light on social issues, while critics warn they can become exploitative if women’s suffering is used.
The genre’s success implies that readers are not necessarily looking for violence. Instead, many people are looking for justice, understanding, and emotional closure. However, the ongoing dependence on female victims presents a troubling point.
If violence against women is still one of fiction’s most reliable plots, are these works helping readers in confront misogyny – or has women’s suffering become one of publishing’s most durable narrative tools?
