Why I Don’t Read Riley Sager, A.J. Finn, or S.J. Watson Anymore

Gender, Pseudonyms, and Femwashing in Psychological Thrillers

If you’re into psychological thrillers like I am, you’ve probably read—or at least seen—the names Riley Sager, A.J. Finn, and S.J. Watson. These authors are known for twisty plots, unreliable narrators, and emotionally unstable female leads. I used to devour their books.

But recently, I made a conscious choice: I no longer read male authors who use gender-neutral or feminine-sounding pseudonyms to write thrillers aimed at women.

Here’s why—plus how this trend ties into femwashing in publishing, harmful portrayals of women’s mental health, and the long history of women writing under male names just to be heard.

The Rise of Male Authors with Feminine Pseudonyms

Let’s start with the basics:
Riley Sager is the pen name of Todd Ritter, a male author who started publishing thrillers in 2017—right in the middle of the psychological thriller boom led by women.

He’s not alone:

• A.J. Finn is Dan Mallory

• S.J. Watson is Steve Watson

These names sound neutral or even feminine—by design. It was a strategic move in a market that was favoring female-driven thrillers. At the time, authors like Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl, 2012) and Paula Hawkins (The Girl on the Train, 2015) were topping charts.

It’s hard to see this naming strategy as anything other than calculated.

Why It’s a Problem

Using a feminine pen name might not seem like a big deal—but when it’s done to appear “authentic” in a genre dominated by women, it raises red flags.

Especially when these male authors repeatedly write women as:

• Unstable

• Gaslit

• Disconnected from reality

Riley Sager’s female characters—across Final Girls, The Last Time I Lied, and Lock Every Door—are not deeply drawn. They’re often plot devices more than people. And once you know these stories were written by a man using a feminine-sounding pseudonym? It feels exploitative.

Femwashing in Fiction

Femwashing is when feminist aesthetics or messaging are used to sell something—without actually supporting women or advancing equality. In books, this looks like:

• Male authors adopting feminine-sounding names

• Publishing thrillers marketed as “feminist”

• Reinforcing old stereotypes about women, especially around mental illness

It’s literary lipstick on a pig.

We’ve seen femwashing in other industries too. One recent example? The Great Space Stunt of 2025, where celebrities like Katy Perry were sent on a commercial spaceflight under the banner of empowering women in STEM and science. It was hyped as a feminist milestone—but let’s be honest, it was billionaires using female bodies and symbols to market luxury space tourism. It didn’t open doors for young girls in science. It didn’t change access or equity. That’s femwashing at its flashiest: feminist vibes with zero substance.

Women Who Had to Write as Men

Here’s the irony: for centuries, women had to use male pseudonyms just to get published. They weren’t trying to sell more books—they were trying to be taken seriously.

• Mary Ann Evans wrote as George Eliot (Middlemarch, The Mill on the Floss)

• The Brontë sisters published as Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall)

• George Sand was the pseudonym of Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin (Indiana, Consuelo)

They used male names for survival. Today, men use feminine names for sales. That’s not a tribute—it’s a business move.

Timeline: When It All Took Off

• Riley Sager’s Final Girls (2017) — five years after Gone Girl

• A.J. Finn’s The Woman in the Window (2018)

• S.J. Watson’s Before I Go to Sleep (2011)

They arrived just as demand for psychological thrillers by women was peaking. And they capitalized on it—without pushing the genre forward.

Why I Stopped Reading Them

It wasn’t one book that turned me off. It was a pattern:

• Female leads written as mentally unwell clichés

• Stories that felt exploitative, not authentic

• The discomfort of realizing the “feminist thriller” I was reading was written by a man using a woman-ish name

After three Riley Sager books, I was done. These stories weren’t for women. They were using us.

Female Thriller Authors I Actually Love

Luckily, I found better books—thrillers that are rich, respectful, and genuinely feminist. Some of my favorite female thriller authors include:

• Camilla Läckberg – The Ice Princess, The Hidden Child

• Åsa Larsson – Sun Storm, The Second Deadly Sin

• Gillian Flynn – Gone Girl, Sharp Objects

• Megan Miranda – All the Missing Girls, The Last House Guest

• Simone St. James – The Broken Girls, The Book of Cold Cases

Who I’m Reading Next

I’m always on the lookout for thrillers by women—especially those bringing new perspectives to the genre. Next on my list:

• Tana French – In the Woods, The Likeness

• Megan Abbott – Dare Me, The Turnout

• Flynn Berry – Under the Harrow, Northern Spy

• Oyinkan Braithwaite – My Sister, the Serial Killer

• Rachel Howzell Hall – And Now She’s Gone, These Toxic Things

• P.J. Vernon – Bath Haus, When You Find Me

• Gretchen Felker-Martin – Manhunt

What Can We Do as Readers?

If you’re also feeling uneasy about gender dynamics in thriller fiction, here are a few things you can do:

1. Be curious about who’s writing the story. Look into the author behind the pseudonym.

2. Support authentic voices. Read women, queer authors, and writers of color.

3. Talk about it. Start the conversation online or in your book club.

4. Read with intention. Notice how women and mental health are portrayed.

5. Share what you love. When a book hits home, recommend it. It matters.

Final Thoughts: Read What Reflects Your Values

This isn’t about cancelling anyone. It’s about reading intentionally and supporting the kind of literary world we want to see.

For me, that means uplifting female thriller authors, questioning marketing tactics that exploit gender, and choosing books that center—not borrow—women’s voices.

No, I don’t read Riley Sager, A.J. Finn, or S.J. Watson anymore. Not because I don’t enjoy a twisty plot. But because I believe we deserve thrillers that respect and reflect us—not ones that exploit our stories for sales.