Okay, so let’s talk about 'And All the Girls Were Nude' by Richard Magruder. I picked it up on a whim and ended up staying up way too late. This is one of those books that feels like it was written just for people who love a good mystery with a nasty, gritty edge. Let me break it down.

The Story

It’s the 1970s in San Francisco. Our hero, Jake, is a photographer scraping by on commission, short on cash, and long on regrets. He gets a weird job from a reclusive billionaire artist: find a particular model from an old photo, “Iris.” Simple, right? Wrong. Each photograph leads Jake to another woman, and every woman he meets is either scared, dodgy, or dead. There’s a cult-like vibe, too—a painter who calls himself "The Brush" who claims his art can capture soul essences. As Jake spirals deeper, he realizes the photographs are clues to something horrific: some of these women literally disappeared after sitting for their portraits. The plot crackles like a live wire—betrayals, split-second decisions, and a few chases through foggy back alleys. Don’t get too comfortable with what you think is true. People lie. Evidence corrupts. And sometimes, the mystery is worse than the answer.

Why You Should Read It

Why I loved this book—it’s not just about the mystery. It’s about judgment. The main character struggles with his own complicity—as an artist, as a man, as a witness. It punches you in the gut with uncomfortable questions: can beauty steal souls? Do we watch terrible things happen and turn away? The women in the story are vibrant, messy, and too real—not just victims or victims-to-be. Magruder writes female characters who are tough, scared, smart, and complicated. I especially loved the character of Liz, a bartender/rock-climber who refuses to be a damsel—she shows up, swears, drinks Bourbon with Jake, and then walksaway. Plus, the San Francisco setting is a character too—before tech money, when it was dangerous elegance. It’s books like this that remind me that crime fiction can be literature where you actually care about everyone, even the bad ones.

Final Verdict

Who needs to buy or borrow this book? If you love psychological thrillers, hard-boiled detective stories that broke out of the 40s, and don’t flinch at complicated ethics around sex work, addiction, and truth in art—read it. Perfect for fans of Gillian Flynn, Tana French, or Dennis Lehane’s early work. But also, this book is for anyone who likes thinking about what they’d do if the art they loved hid a crime. Just be ready for language sex scenes and anending that won’t let you have a clean answer. Up all night? Worth it.