• 1 It is usually assumed that the genre originated in 1841, because this is when a short story by Edga (...)
• 2 For more on this, see e.g. Ewa Ihnatowicz, «„Sprawa kryminalna” Kraszewskiego», Przegląd Humanistyc (...)

1Polish detective novels could not boast much success for a long time. Although the genre was known and popular among readers, writers usually used only a few crimes to spice up the plot of their novels (it was a common way to attract readers long before the actual detective story emerged as a separate genre1) instead of opting for a proper detective novel. A few names from the 19th or 20th century exploiting the convention could be mentioned, e.g. Józef Ignacy Kraszewski, whose Sprawa kryminalna (1872) is seen as the first Polish crime story2 (although it turns out there was actually no crime there, but an intrigue devised to make two lovers get married), Kazimierz Chłędowski, Walery Przyborowski, Władysław Grajnert, Walery Łoziński, or Eliza Orzeszkowa, whose literary accomplishments include Dziurdziowie (1885) – a story of exclusion, crime and punishment. But generally speaking, the interest expressed by the 19th-century prose-writers in crime stories was negligible. Partially it was caused by the situation in Poland: the country was under occupation (from the partitions in 1772, 1793 and 1795 until regaining its independence in 1918). Writers felt obliged to take up far serious topics than “plain” crimes or other genres written for pure entertainment.

• 3 Translations were often first published in magazines and then as independent works. Tracking and or (...)

2It doesn’t mean though, that such literature was completely neglected. Readers could enjoy texts by foreign authors – translated3 or in their original versions. Among the most popular foreign authors the following could be mentioned: Arthur Conan Doyle, Emile Gaboriau, François Vidocq, Paul Féval, William “Wilkie” Collins or Charles Dickens.

• 4 Such publishing houses, like for example “Republika” from Łódź, specialised in popular genres, such (...)
• 5 The abovementioned Janusz Dunin writes on these phenomena in his book titled Papierowy bandyta (op. (...)

3In the 20th century the approach didn’t change much, also because Poland was still under occupation. Most writers were therefore focused on subjects other than the pursuit of a cheap sensation. Writers’ approach changed in the interwar period, after the establishment of the Second Polish Republic (1918-1945). As regards Polish detective stories, following names should be mentioned among others: Adam Nasielski, Antoni Marczyński, Marek Romański (birth name: Roman Dąbrowski), Piotr Godek (pen name of Stefania Osińska), Henryk Lange, Leo Belmont, Zenon Różański, Tadeusz Starostecki, Stanisław Wotowski, Aleksander Błażejowski, Urke Nachalnik (pseudonym of Izaak Boruch Farbarowicz). Those writers created mainly sensational and adventurous literature and detective stories. However, it was still too early to say that the Polish tradition emerged. Although there was a significant change in the number of authors (compared to the late 19^th and early 20^th century), the works of foreign authors dominated the market of the crime literature. Serial novels’ publishers4 were specialized in this kind of literature. They often published imitations, texts falsely signed with names of famous authors (and often created by native writers or journalists), unlicensed translations signed with a pen name or simply anonymous5.

• 6 A good example can be “Goniec Krakowski”. Out of 298 novels it published, there were 58 crime and s (...)
• 7 The librarian Józef Korpała, PhD, suggested that 434 titles should be withdrawn from one of the pri (...)
• 8 See e.g. Andrzej Kempa, «Literatura źle obecna», Poradnik Bibliotekarza, 5, 1989, pp. 28-29; Stanis (...)
• 9 Anna Martuszewska writes for this in: Eadem, «Powieść kryminalna», entry in Tadeusz Żabski (ed.), S (...)
• 10 In 1953 Józef Korpała wrote that as regards books borrowed from libraries, “the popularity of socia (...)

4Nevertheless, they marked the outset and who knows what the fate of the Polish crime fiction would be, had it not been for the World War II. Of course, crime and sensational novels were published during the war, sometimes in instalments, in the so-called rags6, but these works don’t deserve much attention, if only for the fact that they were often reprints of prewar publications. After the end of the war Poland came under Soviet hegemony, which had its consequences for literature as well. Before the Polish United Workers’ Party (Polska Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza – PZPR) was founded in 1948 and took charge of the country in the same year, the book market tried to follow the well-known rules. Old private publishing houses resuming operations, as well as newly established state-owned ones, were issuing crime stories, either re-releases of prewar editions or releases of new works (e.g. novels by Tadeusz Kostecki, who published his literature under pen name of W.T. Christine, Jerzy Lirski – nom de plume of Wiesław Poniatowski, Alfred Bronowski – birth name: Alfred Szklarski, or Zygmunt Sztaba). The situation soon changed and this genre (as well as literature in general) was in decline. It was more or less after 1949 that crime novels were regarded as “banned”: according to the cultural policy of the state, books and other works of art were primarily supposed to contribute to shaping socialist attitudes, and texts where crime was prominent were believed as improper and failed to fulfil this promise, at least according to the policymakers7. Not only was there a ban on publishing new titles (so authors saw no reason to write works that would not be printed), but there was a major but secret campaign of “cleansing” the libraries of undesired, ideologically suspicious texts, which unfortunately also included crime novels8. This genre was regarded as an exponent of Western entertainment literature, devoid of educational and artistic value, which made it a redundant element of literary culture in the newly created order known as socialism, which purported to be free of criminal activity9. Such measures did not change the readers’ preferences, though. Library book cards show that all the efforts of the authorities to amend the reading habits and supress the penchant for adventure, sensation and romance in favour of useful and educational texts, were absolutely futile10.

• 11 It’s on the speech On the Cult of Personality and Its Consequences (О культе личности и его последс (...)
• 12 A private conversation of the author with professor Janusz Dunin in the 1990s.

5The situation of literature changed only after Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin died in 1953 – still, it did not change overnight, but only after 1956, after the address made by Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev11. The so-called Thaw that followed was also visible in the culture: some of the previously withdrawn “harmful” titles were restored to libraries, including some popular literature. Soon romances, sensation novels, fantasy and crime stories were accepted on the market – pursuant to the approval of relevant authorities and censorship, obviously. Relaxation of ideological constraints on genre fiction resulted in the emergence of many new names, also among crime story writers. They hoped for an easy success: it was commonly known that readers appreciated this kind of literature. Professor Janusz Dunin (1931-2007) mentioned in one of his private conversations12 that difficult access to desired texts made those interested in specific genres rewrite old publications by hand and exchange these manuscripts with other enthusiasts. It was mainly about the works of Polish prewar authors whose texts were not reprinted, and foreign authors: as regards the latter, libraries kept a record (an off-the-record record, so to say) where readers could enrol and queue for a specific title.

• 13 On this topic see: Stanisław Barańczak, «W kręgu powieści: nadludzie w niebieskich mundurach» in id (...)
• 14 See e.g. Adam Mazurkiewicz, Polska literatura socrealistyczna, Łódź, Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Łódzk (...)

6This was also because new Polish crime stories did not really meet the readers’ expectations. They had one specific feature: they were dominated by the persuasive function13. In other words, although these works purported to be fiction and entertainment literature, it was in fact propaganda14. Often it was so blatant that even less skilful readers easily noticed this attempt. These books praised Communist authorities, the militia, system of justice and socialism, at the same time criticising capitalist attitudes and making it clear that following Western lifestyle and pursuing “private initiatives” constitutes the underlying cause of most crimes.

• 15 Stanisław Barańczak, «W kręgu powieści: nadludzie w niebieskich mundurach», op. cit., pp. 96-132.
• 16 Nowadays some readers have a sentimental approach to militia novels and treat them as a relic of th (...)
• 17 A notable exception can be Paweł Jaszczuk, whose novel Foresta Umbra was awarded the High Calibre A (...)

7The militia novel (also referred to as the militia crime story)15, because that’s the genre we’re talking about, was represented by such authors as: Anna Kłodzińska, Barbara Gordon (pseudonym of Larysa Zajączkowska-Mitznerowa), Zygmunt Zeydler-Zborowski, Jerzy Siewierski, Barbara Nawrocka, Helena Sekuła, Jerzy Edigey (pen name of Jerzy Korycki), Tadeusz Ostaszewski, Jerzy Janicki, Joanna Chmielewska (birth name: Irena Kühn), Andrzej Wydrzyński or Krystyn Ziemski. Their work had its more or less loyal fans. Some didn’t mind the propaganda, other believed that since you can’t get “genuine” crime stories, you have to be content with what is available. It should also be noted that not all militia novels were of poor artistic quality. It all depended on the author’s individual talent. Once the old regime collapsed (1989), this type of literature was nearly instantly forgotten16, also because the publishing market suddenly opened up. Western prose-writers reappeared after a long time, including Agatha Christie, as well as first cautious translations of contemporary authors. It seemed for a while that there was no space to fill by Polish authors, especially because national literature was not seen as of good quality. From among the names well known in the past, two survived: Chmielewska, who was writing mainly sensation and adventure stories, with pronounced sense of humour and skilfully concealed approval of the militia and Polish system of justice; and Joe Alex – birth name: Maciej Słomczyński – whose stories are set in England and never had anything to do with the militia. A few new Polish authors who had their début in the late 1980s and early 1990s – such as e.g. Joanna Albrecht or Zofia Jabłkowska17 – were not applauded by Polish readers and have fallen into oblivion. Their work was overshadowed by bestselling translations of foreign authors.

• 18 Only book publications are considered here.
• 19 They could also know this type from movies, although such films were rarely played in Polish cinema (...)

8These were the circumstances in which Marek Krajewski set out to publish his novels – and it must be said he chose a particularly difficult (comparing to other subgenres, for example detective fiction) subgenre of crime fiction – known as hard-boiled. In Poland, just like in many other European countries, this genre has virtually no tradition, which is partly because of the different social and political situation at the time when hard-boiled was created in US and later, and partly because there were no Polish translations of key examples of this genre available. It was only in the late 1950s that translations of novels by Raymond Chandler started to appear. One of the novels by James Hadley Chase (born René Raymond Brabazon), Eve (1945) was translated by Juliusz Kydryński and published in 1947, but next titles appeared only after 1989; first Polish translation of a novel by Samuel Dashiell Hammett was published in 1931 (Red Harvest, 1929; Polish title: Miasto zbrodni), but the iconic Maltese Falcon from 1930 was published in Poland only in 1963. Hammett’s works were more extensively translated only in mid-1980s. From the mid-1950s novels by Erle S. Gardner were published and in the 1970s translations of Ross Macdonald (birth name: Kenneth Millar) started to appear. Much later, in the 1990s, Polish market saw the novels by Mickey Spillane (born Frank Morrison Spillane) about the adventures of a brutal detective Mike Hammer: first Kiss Me, Deadly from 1952 (Polish title: Śmiertelny pocałunek, 1993) and much later, in 2008, I, the Jury (1947), which was the first part of a series. It was only in 1995 that the famous novel by James Mallahan Cain The Postman Always Rings Twice (1934)18 was published in Polish. This is to say that readers were familiar with hard-boiled novels19, but since the examples in Polish were few and far between, and there was not much information about the genre and the authors, the general opinion was that it’s not a representative kind deserving special attention. The fact that such texts told the story of past times and distant problems (prohibition, gang wars etc.) failed to boost the popularity of this literature. Plus, hardly any of these stories had a happy ending, contrary to most “classic” whodunits. Artistic and plot-related solutions offered by the authors were deemed satisfactory by the critics, who praised the realistic image of the world as presented in these novels. Readers, on the other hand, expected their craving for justice to be satisfied and clearly wanted a punishment for each crime – this is why they were disappointed.

• 20 The novel was first published in English in 2008, translated by Danusia Stok.
• 21 The writer died in 2013. She continued to write almost until the end: her last book titled Zbrodnia (...)

9Therefore, when Marek Krajewski published his first novel titled Death in Breslau20 in 1999, he actually ventured into no man’s land. The market was overtaken by foreign authors and translations of their texts – and it applied not only to popular literature – so Polish crime novels were virtually non-existent, apart from the infamous militia novels, a few aforementioned new names, as well as Chmielewska, who continued to write until her death21, and Alex, whose last novel titled Cicha jak ostatnie tchnienie was published in 1991, right after the political transformation.

• 22 The Polish abbreviation ‘PRL’ is derived from the official name of the Communist Polish state: Pols (...)
• 23 The term used to refer to the territories that became part of Poland after World War II. Before, th (...)

11But he offered much more than just the first novel of the kind: he mentioned Breslau already in the title. Not ‘Wrocław’ – the name everybody was familiar with, but ‘Breslau’ – the German name of the city. It was a risky move. It’s not about censorship, because it was abolished in 1990, but about the response or “ordinary” readers, who were taught in the Communist regime that22 Wrocław is “an ancient Polish settlement”, which was reunited with its roots after long years of exile. The name of ‘Breslau’ was never used in geography or history textbooks. This knowledge about “Recovered Territories”23 gained in the Communist school overlapped with post-war resentments, which made people think this region should be restored to Poland as a retribution for all the harm done. This opinion was shared not only by older generations (although it’s true that among them it was probably the most pronounced), but also by the youth, who grew up in the Communist regime and believed that Lower Silesia or West Pomerania were a natural part of their homeland. This is where they were born and grew up: they knew no other reality, but the one where Wrocław and Szczecin were part of Poland. They never used the names of Breslau or Stettin.

• 24 And generally speaking all the places included in the Recovered Territories – more for this below.
• 25 They are visible even today – e.g. as German inscriptions on the damaged walls of the buildings.
• 26 See e.g. Andrzej Cieński, «Pejzaż Wrocław. Zagadnienie obrazu miasta we współczesnej literaturze po (...)

12This is related to another important issue: Wrocław (and Lviv, another city important in Krajewski’s literature)24 was virtually absent or just marginally present in culture texts issued after 1945 – and this was basically the case until Śmierć w Breslau was published. It was natural, in a way: Wrocław wasn’t “born” overnight, but was gradually becoming after 1945. It rose like a phoenix from the ashes – circa 80% of the former German metropolis was destroyed in the war. The Polonisation of this city was a long process. On the other hand, it was virtually impossible to shoot movies or write on Wrocław without Breslau – its traces in the urban fabric were obvious and undeniable25 – but it was forbidden to mention Breslau: you couldn’t use the name. According to the socialist propaganda, the city under this name did not exist. Although before World War II Poles used to live here, among other nationalities, revealing your knowledge of the past of this “Polish” city or the fact that you’re indigenous to this place could mean you risk being considered German and removed – at best. As a result, Wrocław hardly ever became the setting of any book26: it was safer to assume it does not have the potential.

• 27 In 1990 both German states, GDR and FRG, recognised the new Oder-Neisse border; the treaty was sign (...)
• 28 For more on this, see: Anna Gemra, «Eberhardt Mock na tropie. Breslau/Wrocław w powieściach Marka K (...)
• 29 Ibidem, p. 131.

13It was only Krajewski who noticed the potential. When his book was published27, he didn’t have to worry at the response of the censors, who would never consent to portraying Wrocław as a German city. It turned out, however, that using the name of Breslau also arouses considerable controversy among the readers, even those from younger generations28. On the one hand, the novel was a kind of provocation, starting with its very title, which exposed the “forbidden” name – and the author admitted it himself29. And yet this step into the forbidden land was not only seen as iconoclastic, but also fascinating. It opened the door to an unknown world and restored the history of the city, which was in a way “robbed” of its past as a result of a political feud. What is more, it was not just the “ordinary” Breslau: plain streets, squares, architectural accomplishments, but, as expected of a genuine mystery novel, it portrays a city of dark alleys, suspicious pubs, brothels, stinking dens, and yards where you could go missing without a trace. In short: the city pictured in the book seems a weird parody of what you would normally find in a tourist guide: a summary of the worst and most horrible nooks and crannies of Breslau.

• 30 See: https://bit.ly/3L6QZke; https://bit.ly/3K1fDkO, acccess on: 11.06.2012.
• 31 Similar approach was taken in militia novels. This was partly because of the censorship: authors we (...)
• 32 Such an image of the detective is partially related to the environment where the plot is set: usual (...)

14The first novel by Krajewski tempted the readers with its setting: it was a place seemingly familiar, especially to the inhabitants of Wrocław, but in fact unknown, because it was the interwar Breslau, the criminal quarter, a forbidden place. Another surprising aspect was the unprecedented genre. For many Polish readers the first contact with Krajewski’s writing was a shock30. A “classic” detective story most of them used to read before was rather conventional as regards the portrayal of the investigators, the underlying motives of the crime and the way of presenting it (including the reactions of victims and murderers), as well as describing dead bodies. The characters in charge of the investigation follow a set of ethical principles, and private detectives, although receive a fee for their services, focus on finding the criminal rather than advancing their own career. The motives of the crimes usually include strong yet familiar emotions: anger, fear, love, envy, greed, hatred or vengeance. The crime itself is usually “clean”: authors hardly ever show the physiological aspects of death: excrements and other bodily fluids, decomposition, etc. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule, e.g. in The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920), the first novel by Agatha Christie with Hercule Poirot, there is a vivid description of an old lady dying after being poisoned. In Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (1938) the murder is arranged so that the characters believe they are witnesses to a bloody murder of the father of a family. But in a “classic” detective story the authors usually go for “clean” methods, such as poisoning, drowning, strangulation, occasionally stabbing or shooting. They also avoid overly detailed descriptions of the agony or the appearance of the victim. The purpose is not to incite strong emotions, but to invite the reader to solve a logical mystery31. The presented world is also “clean”: it’s orderly, properly organised, with a relevant hierarchy of values. Most of the characters are decent and only guilty of minor sins or weaknesses32. Crime is an unacceptable disruption of this perfect image. Finding the person responsible for it will not revive the victim/victims, but will restore the initial order of things.

• 33 Marek Krajewski, Death in Breslau, trans. by Danusia Stok, Brooklyn (NY): Melville House, 2012, e-b (...)
• 34 It was only made illegal in the Third Reich, whose beginning dates back to 1933, when Adolf Hitler (...)

17The protagonist is hardly a role model himself. He’s not a perfect positive hero, successful in every aspect of life – personal, social or professional. The reader first encounters “Deputy Head of the Criminal Department of the Police Praesidium, Counsellor Eberhard Mock”33 in the club run by Madam de Goef, where “the most demanding of gentlemen could satisfy their desires. […]. [C]lients were served in various ways by the charms of thirty girls and two young men” (p. 12). Mock regularly attends this “club” – or, to be more precise, a luxurious disorderly house. In Weimar Republic, which theoretically still existed at that time, prostitution was legal, but cathouses were not34. As a law enforcement officer Mock must have known this, but this didn’t stop him from pursuing his erotic fantasies. Nor did the fact that he was married. So the reader knows from the start that this is not going to be an immaculate protagonist, although the fact that he uses the services of certain ladies to satisfy his carnal lust doesn’t have to be (and indeed it isn’t) the worst possible trait, especially that he treats these ladies with respect: he “never forgot to bring flowers for Madame and small gifts for the girls who were glad to serve him” (pp. 14-15).

• 35 Borewicz was the protagonist of a famous Polish crime series 07 zgłoś się (TVP 1976-1989) – he was (...)
• 36 The series starts with Death in Breslau. Next novels are: Koniec świata w Breslau (2003; The End of (...)

18The very first encounter with Mock indicates that Krajewski is not going to create a perfect protagonist with just a few minor vices – vide e.g. Hercules Poirot’s obsession with symmetry or Sławomir Borewicz and his inclination towards women35 – which may be funny little weaknesses in other cases, and only serve to highlight the superior moral quality of a person. The series includes 11 novels so far36. The figure of the protagonist comes across as highly ambiguous.

• 37 For example, when trying to interrogate Isidor Friedländer, Mock meets his daughter, Lea. He looks (...)
• 38 See e.g. Marek Krajewski, The End of the World in Breslau, trans. by Danusia Stok, Brooklyn (NY): M (...)
• 39 Ibidem, pp. 23; 31.

20It’s not just that he issues such orders: while interviewing the waiter, Moses Hirschberg, who is probably the last person – except for the murderer – who saw the victims alive, is irritated by his facial expression (which is a consequence of a disease) and hits him on the face – the only thing he focuses on afterwards is that his hand is hurting, because “[h]e had hit the man a little too hard” (p. 32). Mock believes Hitler’s supporters are dumb bandits. He doesn’t even try to hide his contempt for them and their opinions. But when he interviews Hirschberg, he calls him a Jew and lets another Jew, Isidor Friedländer, be accused of the murder of the countess, because this means his own career will continue. It’s also for his own career that he adjusts to the political situation: in early January 1933 he fired a police officer – a Nazi, who wouldn’t work with a Jewish colleague, but in May the same year, when “brownshirts” took over, he says he “could not afford to react so decisively. […] [H]e had to be loyal to von der Malten and the Masonic lodge which had facilitated his brilliant career yet, at the same time, he could not provoke the Nazis against him” (pp. 36-37). Mock is cynical and calculating. He uses the political situation to extort evidence from Jewish inhabitants of Wrocław (see p. 90 n), and when he wants to become popular with the Masonic lodge and the Nazi authorities of the city, he plans that the criminal is going to commit “suicide” in the prison cell. Eberhard is chivalrous towards women, but he sees them primarily as sexual objects37; he is rude and cruel to his own wife38; he beats her up when she refuses to have sex with him and – like a standard bully – he sends her flowers as an apology39; he is educated – but he believes only his wife is to blame for the fact that they don’t have children. The list of his vices is long. And they can’t be described as minor sins, either.

• 40 Marek Krajewski, Festung Breslau, Wydawnictwo W.A.B., Warszawa 2006, p. 278, transl. by Anna Maria (...)
• 41 Marek Krajewski, The End of the World in Breslau, op. cit., p. 381.

21Mock also has a number of other vices, although not all of them are manifested in Death in Breslau. Krajewski constructs this character gradually and equips it with further features of a dark hero: a man who bends down under the burden of his sins, also in his private life – Eberhard raped his first wife, he’s addicted to sex, brutal and abuses alcohol – but on the other hand, he fights for justice with his own hands, often despite the lapse of time. This is what he says about himself: “I never give up. I crave for justice”40. He’s like “relentless fate, […] impending death” (p. 315): no criminal who evaded justice for some reason can feel safe, because Mock never steps down. Ordinary citizens only work business hours, but Eberhard “did not have that right. He never finished work. Even now, when he had delivered the city of a serial killer”41. Mock doesn’t care about the criminal’s sex, background, wealth, social status or profession. All he wants is to deliver punishment. This uncompromising quality (although he is a bit more lenient towards himself) of the protagonist means he does seem a better person when compared to most villains appearing in this series, although he is undoubtedly a scoundrel himself.

• 42 This is also true of Scandinavian crime fiction, which abounds in brutal descriptions and protagoni (...)
• 43 Anna Martuszewska, Powieść kryminalna, op. cit., p. 470.
• 44 This could be linked to the publishing process or the author’s pace of work, but it seems that anot (...)

24Such construction of the universe and the protagonist surprised the readers. They were used to a kind of sophistication and sterility – also as regards the language – while in the new Polish crime fiction from the late 20th century the readers suddenly faced with a completely different concept of crime story idea and an unprecedented manner of speaking about crime in fiction. There was no such tradition, no such descriptions, no such protagonist. And generally speaking such elements were absent also from the translations of foreign literature, primarily because the book market first tried to catch up after long years of falling behind the global trends in the classic crime fiction – this guaranteed a definite return – and was rather distrustful of any novelties42. The change, when it happened, was striking. Krajewski didn’t have to fit into the expectations of the readers, who were not used to such pronounced imagery. And success was rather iffy – most of the crime novels were foreign, and readers had come to believe that a Polish name on the cover does not guarantee a good read in this genre (this was partly the result of the experience of the militia novel). Back in 2006 Anna Martuszewska wrote that works by Polish writers, including the author of Death in Breslau, “could not break through the vast sea of translated literature and didn’t have a chance to make a lasting impression on the readers43.” It was indeed hard to reach the minds of the readers – this is also proved by the fact that next novel by Krajewski was published only 4 years later, and the next one – after another two years44. On the other hand, it’s good to note that Krajewski was awarded with the first High Caliber Award (2004, for The End of the World in Breslau).

• 45 In 2004 three crime novels were submitted to the first High Caliber Award. The number has grown to (...)

26Compared to the texts from the last century, the aesthetics of criminal works has changed completely. This is Krajewski’s influence: although there is no scientific evidence for it, the aftermath of his style can be seen in the novels of such authors as, for example, Mariusz Czubaj, Ryszard Ćwirlej, Marcin Wroński, Krzysztof Bochus or Tomasz Duszyński. They all started to publish only after the success of Krajewski’s second novel (The End of the World in Breslau). Over time, other authors joined them, not only with hard-boiled detective stories, but also with other sub-genres (e.g. sensation fiction, police novel and police procedural). More than twenty years after Krajewski’s debut, Polish crime literature has developed significantly, as can be seen, among others, in the number of novels submitted for the High Caliber Award45. It happened because the readership of the works of the author of Death in Breslau proved that there is also a place for native writers on the market of crime book authors. Many Polish authors got encouraged to cultivate this genre, opening up new opportunities for Polish crime fiction in the 21st century.