From a Washington Post story by Sophia Nguyen headlined “For James Comey’s career, mystery writing is no plot twist”:

Readers of detective stories, wrote W.H. Auden — the poet was addicted to them — suffer from a sense of sin. They are people intimate with guilt, and they dream of its removal. The last time James Comey read something in the genre, he says, was 1987: “Scott Turow. ‘Presumed Innocent.’ I was all on fire reading that.” The dry spell started that year, when he began working as a federal prosecutor. After that, he couldn’t read anything about crime, or espionage, or terrorism.