<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Crime Fiction on Sunday Evening Review</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/crime-fiction/</link><description>Recent content in Crime Fiction on Sunday Evening Review</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/crime-fiction/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Colson Whitehead Books: What He Inherited and What He Made His Own</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/ideas/colson-whitehead-books/</link><pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2026 06:00:00 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://sundayeveningreview.com/ideas/colson-whitehead-books/</guid><description>&lt;p>Patricia has been watching me read Colson Whitehead for thirty years. Not all at once, not as a project, but book by book as they arrived, each one doing something different from the last. Last week she asked me what I was going to say about him, having spent the spring writing about Wright and Baldwin and Hurston. I told her I wasn&amp;rsquo;t sure yet. She said: &amp;ldquo;You&amp;rsquo;re sure. You&amp;rsquo;re just stalling because he matters too much.&amp;rdquo; She reads three mysteries a week and doesn&amp;rsquo;t miss much.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>