The 10 Greatest Thriller Books of the 20th Century

Published Nov 14, 2026, 5:31 PM EST At any given moment, Scott Simone has at least three books jockeying for his attention. He’ll never turn down a campus novel with a literary bent, nor will he hesitate to add yet another mystery to his Leaning Tower of Pisa-inspired to-be-read pile — which is built upon the bedrocks of too many short story collections, how-are-these-real true crime books, and classics waiting to be cracked open again. Topics that have him ripping through pages the fastest include closed-circle murders, unhappy professors, life-questioning philosophical deep dives, so long as they feature sharp sentences, a dark sense of humor, and at least a little malice. He’s spent so much time in book shops over the years he is, to his wife’s chagrin, continuing to build a library that doesn’t quite respect the dimensions of the apartment meant to contain it. Here's the funny thing about thrillers: the more danger you pile on, the more you suffocate the suspense. A protagonist faces one or two life-or-death obstacles, and the reader’s on the edge of their seat. Tack on three or four more, and they see what’s coming. That’s why the greatest thriller writers know danger is the scaffolding: it’s there, sure, but more as a tool used while the real work is happening within it. And then there's the plotting, the foundation of it all. A conspiracy, an assassination, a race to prevent some catastrophe — that's the larger problem, but getting to the bottom of it means untangling a dozen smaller ones. These books stand as the biggest achievements in thriller writing in the 20th century. They balance everything — plot, characterization, mystery, suspense, even action — with a skill seldom seen, not only within the genre, but in literature as a whole. 10 'The Prone Gunman' (1981) Image via City Lights Publishers The hit man is one of fiction's more romanticized professions, and Jean-Patrick Manchette takes pleasure in dismantling that fantasy in The Prone Gunman. Martin Terrier has spent 10 years murdering people for money, all while saving up for a future with his childhood sweetheart. Now he's ready to retire, marry the woman, and live happily ever after. Two problems: She hasn't exactly spent the decade waiting around for him, and his employers aren't keen on accepting his resignation. Manchette makes the whole business sordid. There's little ceremony to the violence: people are shot, and bodies pile up. Sometimes the dead are seen as an inconvenience, but that’s about as much consideration as they get. On the contrasting side, Terrier clings to his romantic ambitions with a naïveté that's embarrassing to witness. He's so accustomed to solving problems with a gun that he seems bewildered when confronted with one that can't be shot. Manchette never offers the comfort of a misunderstood killer with a heart of gold. There's something pathetic about Terrier, even as his circumstances become desperate. 9 'Jurassic Park' (1990) Image via Alfred A. Knopf You may think it’s the dino mayhem that gives Jurassic Park its grip, but Michael Crichton gets an awful lot of suspense out of people explaining why nothing can possibly go wrong. There are the electrified fences, computerized tracking system and genetic safeguards meant to make an island full of dinosaurs as manageable as any other theme park. At least that’s what John Hammond explains to no end, but an awful lot of things need to work perfectly, and nobody seems all that concerned about what happens if they don't. Crichton spends pages explaining the science behind the park, and nearly every detail comes back to haunt its creators. The computers count the number of dinosaurs they're programmed to expect, overlooking the ones that shouldn't exist. The animals supposedly can't reproduce, yet they're breeding anyway. Then an employee sabotages the security systems, leaving the visitors to contend with creatures that have never been interested in following the rules. The dinosaurs are terrifying, sure, but there's something satisfying about watching so many intelligent people discover just how little they actually know. 8 'The Bourne Identity' (1980) Image via Hachette We've all looked in the mirror and wondered how we became the person staring back. Robert Ludlum takes that question a step further in The Bourne Identity: What if you couldn't remember the life that made you who you are? Jason Bourne is pulled from the Mediterranean Sea with gunshot wounds and a memory that's been all but wiped clean. Every clue to Bourne's identity seems to suggest a past he'd sooner forget, and the people trying to kill him aren't particularly interested in helping him remember. Ludlum gives Bourne two mysteries to untangle: who's hunting him, and why they so thoroughly want him dead. The answers are tangled up in an international conspiracy involving intelligence agencies and the assassin Carlos the Jackal. Bourne's greatest obstacles are his instincts: they repeatedly save his life, but they also make him wonder what sort of man he was before losing his memory. Even Marie St. Jacques, whom he initially forces to help him, has to decide whether he's someone worth trusting. Ludlum makes Bourne's search for the truth every bit as frightening as the pursuit itself. 7 'Eye of the Needle' (1978) Image via Penguin Books War is a massive machine. There are the vast armies and city-sized ships and weapons capable of wiping out populations. Yet all it takes is one individual, one conversation, to clog the machine’s gears and prevent it from moving forward. Ken Follett takes that possibility to its extreme in Eye of the Needle, whittling a sprawling wartime espionage plot down to a confrontation between a German spy and a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage. Henry Faber is a German spy operating in Britain who uncovered the deception behind the Allied military buildup ahead of D-Day. He must get that information back to the Germans before being captured by British intelligence and lies low to avoid capture on a remote Scottish island. Then there’s Lucy Rose, lonely and bitter, having spent years living with a husband embittered by the accident that left him disabled. When the two meet, she’s understandably thrilled to have someone paying her attention again, but we've already seen Henry murder people who threaten his mission. Follett lets that knowledge hang over their growing intimacy, which makes Lucy's growing affection for him squeamish. 6 'Rogue Male' (1939) Image via New York Review Books A hunter's greatest advantage is knowing how his prey behaves. Geoffrey Household flips that arrangement in Rogue Male, turning an accomplished English sportsman into the prey. The unnamed narrator has managed to get within shooting distance of a European dictator, widely understood to be Adolf Hitler. He insists he never intended to fire; he only wanted to see if he could get close enough. His captors aren't persuaded. He escapes their custody and returns to England, where the hunt for him continues. Household then does something groundbreaking, literally: he makes a man lying motionless in a hole one of the most suspenseful situations imaginable. The narrator burrows in the English countryside, where he needs to find food, keep warm, and avoid discovery. He must rely on much the same skills he used while stalking animals. The narrator recounts the whole miserable business with the good humor of a gentleman whose holiday accommodations have turned out to be less than advertised. Funny, though, this man, so particular about every little detail of hunting, can't bring himself to explain what he intended to do with the dictator. 5 'The Hunt for Red October' (1984) Image via G.P. Putnam's Sons A submarine is supposed to go unnoticed, and Tom Clancy has some fun with that idea in The Hunt for Red October. Soviet captain Marko Ramius has taken a state-of-the-art nuclear submarine into the Atlantic. The Soviets are doing everything they can to stop him, and the Americans haven't the faintest idea what's happening. CIA analyst Jack Ryan suspects Ramius intends to defect, though convincing the powers that be to trust a man commanding a Soviet nuclear submarine isn’t exactly easy. The threat of nuclear annihilation looms on every page, but the technical details actually provide most of the suspense. There are lengthy explanations of sonar and propulsion systems; there’s analysis about the peculiar difficulties of detecting something designed to remain undetected. In lesser hands, that could certainly sink the rising tension, but Clancy, who’s never met a technical detail he didn't want to explain, turns it into fascinating stuff. He moves between American and Soviet crews, and the fun lies in seeing how such intelligent men can come to entirely different conclusions about what's happening. 4 'The Manchurian Candidate' (1959) Image via Orion You can certainly say The Manchurian Candidate was well ahead of its time, with Richard Condon imagining how someone could say some stupid things and still wind up a few steps from the White House. Senator Johnny Iselin is Condon’s useful idiot, as he claims communists are everywhere, yet he’d be hard-pressed to identify one if they introduced themselves. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you’ll find his wife Eleanor, the one with the political ambitions who is happy to let her husband make a national spectacle of himself. The more ridiculous Johnny becomes, the easier it is to overlook the woman telling him what to do. Eleanor is a magnificent piece of work: she'll happily manipulate just about anything. First it’s her husband's career, then her son's relationships, and eventually his very thoughts. You see, Eleanor's son is a decorated Korean War veteran whose brain has been washed so that he’ll carry out orders without knowing it. For all the talk of foreign enemies, the most frightening person in the novel is a mother with political aspirations. Condon turns the resulting conspiracy into a savage satire of American politics, in which communist hysteria makes for good television and ambition excuses just about anything. 3 'The Spy Who Came in from the Cold' (1963) Image via Victor Gollancz A spy assumes everyone is lying to them — it’s how they survive — but they’re unquestioning when it comes to those giving the orders. It's a blind spot John le Carré exploits in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Alec Leamas ran British agents in East Germany for years, only to watch his network collapse — and his operative get shot at the Berlin Wall. So he returns to London, where, let’s just say, he starts to unwind: drinking, unemployment, even a stint in prison. But it's all a front: he’s goading the East Germans into believing he’s ready to betray his country. And sure, Le Carré lets us in on the deception early. But it’s one thing knowing Leamas is putting on an act — we’re still in the dark as to who’s directing it. Le Carré slowly reveals something new about the operations with each interrogation. It comes to a point where even Leamas begins to suspect his superiors haven't told him everything. Then there’s Liz Gold adding some unease, a young librarian he fell for back in London. Liz believes in communism, and takes its ideals to heart, her conviction dwarfing that of anyone on either side. And there's something unsettling about watching her sincerity become a weakness that everyone else is willing to exploit. 2 'The Silence of the Lambs' (1988) Image via St. Martin's Press Thomas Harris knows just how much we're willing to forgive someone who's good company; in The Silence of the Lambs, he takes that to the extreme. Hannibal Lecter has killed and eaten people — there's little ambiguity about what sort of man he is — but he's also intelligent and well-mannered, capable of being very funny and noticing things about FBI trainee Clarice Starling that most people overlook. It’s a quagmire Harris creates, having us equally disgusted yet enthralled with this man. Harris makes their conversations an uncomfortable pleasure. Lecter recognizes her intelligence almost immediately, something her colleagues aren't always inclined to do. He seems genuinely interested in her, too, though that doesn't stop him from digging into her childhood and picking apart insecurities she'd sooner keep to herself. It’s an odd sort of respect tinged with deviousness as he does his best to make her uncomfortable. Clarice knows when she's being manipulated, but it's easy to be lulled by someone who sees so much in you, especially when the people you're supposed to admire barely see you at all. 1 'The Day of the Jackal' (1971) Image via Penguin Charles de Gaulle wasn't assassinated. Anyone picking up The Day of the Jackal when it was published in 1971 knew that much. Frederick Forsyth knew it, too, which makes his ability to squeeze so much suspense out of a foregone conclusion all the more impressive. The Jackal is a professional killer hired by French extremists to assassinate the president, approaching the assignment with the diligence of a man who has never missed a deadline in his life. Then there's Claude Lebel, the French detective tasked with finding a man whose real name he doesn't even know. Forsyth gives his investigation just as much attention. Lebel doesn't have any brilliant flashes of inspiration: he checks records, makes phone calls, follows up on leads that usually amount to nothing. It's tedious work, though Forsyth makes every little discovery feel like a breakthrough. And there's the trouble: we've spent so much time admiring the Jackal's meticulous preparations that every bit of progress Lebel makes feels almost like a personal inconvenience.