What Genre Is 'We Do What We Do In The Dark' Classified Under?

Michelle Hart penned 'We Do What We Do in the Dark', a novel that’s gained traction for its raw exploration of forbidden desire and emotional complexity. The story follows a young woman’s obsessive affair with an older, married female professor, delving into themes of secrecy, power dynamics, and self-discovery. Hart’s prose is both lyrical and unflinching, capturing the protagonist’s inner turmoil with precision. The book’s popularity stems from its relatability—many readers see themselves in the protagonist’s vulnerabilities and moral ambiguities. It doesn’t shy away from messy emotions or easy answers, making it a standout in contemporary queer literature. The tension between passion and guilt, coupled with Hart’s sharp characterizations, keeps readers hooked. It’s a story that lingers, sparking discussions about love, ethics, and the shadows we hide in.

I get swept up in stories that linger in my bones, and 'Things We Do in the Dark' is one of those novels that gnaws in a good way. At its heart, the book is about how trauma rewires ordinary life — how a single event or a slow leak of secrets can turn commonplace routines into hazards. Thematically, it circles around memory and unreliability: who remembers what, and who edits their own past to survive? That instability of memory feeds the suspense, because the truth is never handed to you neatly. On top of that sits guilt and culpability like a second skin; characters carry choices that fracture relationships, and the moral fog the story creates makes you complicit as a reader, sifting through fragments and wanting to fix things that can’t be fixed. Another big theme is the domestic sphere as both sanctuary and prison. The book twists household spaces — bedrooms, kitchens, neighborhood streets — into sites of menace. That contrast makes the violence feel intimate and therefore more disturbing: it’s not some faraway horror, it’s threaded through chores, childcare, the small deceptions people tell each other to keep routines running. Gender plays into this too, with motherhood, power, and vulnerability explored without easy answers. The narrative lingers on how society responds — or fails to respond — to accusations and confessions, touching on community complicity, rumor, and institutional indifference. That social lens turns a personal trauma into a communal fracture. Stylistically, the work leans on atmosphere and slow-burn revelations rather than cheap jumps. The prose often isolates details — a smell, a light, a broken toy — that accumulate into dread. I also notice the motif of darkness not just as physical absence of light but as metaphor for hidden lives: secrets kept, emotions suppressed, histories buried. Comparisons to people who enjoy psychological reads like 'Gone Girl' or 'Sharp Objects' aren’t far off in spirit, but this book has its own cadence. It got under my skin and stayed; even days later I found myself replaying small moments and wondering how blame and mercy can exist in the same breath.

I'd slot 'How High We Go in the Dark' firmly into speculative fiction with heavy dystopian leanings. The book blends elements of sci-fi through its exploration of a pandemic's long-term effects on society, but it's more concerned with human relationships than tech. The narrative structure feels almost like interconnected short stories, which gives it a literary fiction vibe too. What makes it stand out is how it merges these genres seamlessly—you get the world-building of dystopia, the emotional depth of literary fiction, and just enough futuristic elements to keep sci-fi fans hooked. It's like 'Station Eleven' met 'Cloud Atlas' and had a melancholic lovechild.

'Things We Hide From the Light' is a gripping mix of romance and suspense, blending emotional depth with thrilling twists. The novel explores dark secrets and personal struggles, wrapped in a love story that keeps you hooked. It's set in a small town where everyone has something to hide, and the tension between characters builds relentlessly. The genre leans heavily into contemporary romance, but the suspense elements make it stand out—think simmering chemistry meets edge-of-your-seat drama. The writing is raw and immersive, making you feel every heartache and adrenaline spike. What I love is how it balances tender moments with high stakes. The romance isn’t just fluff; it’s tangled with danger and unresolved pasts. The suspense comes from both external threats and internal conflicts, creating layers that keep the story unpredictable. Fans of authors like Colleen Hoover or Lucy Score will devour this—it’s got that perfect blend of passion and peril.