This month marks the 30th anniversary of the time I started up a little publishing company called the Mysterious Press, so it seems a good time to reflect on the changes in the world of mystery fiction during those three decades.

In 1975, mysteries were the stepchildren of publishing. It was considered not merely acceptable but downright preferable to produce them as cheaply as possible. Hardcovers didn’t get the nice, cloth bindings of “serious” literature; instead, they got pressed cardboard. Two- or three-color dust jackets were the norm, rather than the full-color treatments given to allegedly more important books. There was no advertising budget for mysteries, and the notion of touring an author to make television and radio appearances and do autographing events in bookshops was unknown.

A quick look at today’s fiction bestseller list generally shows half or more to be mystery/crime/suspense titles (and this has been true for the past decade). The top ranks are filled with such perennials as John Grisham, Robert B. Parker, Elmore Leonard, Sue Grafton, John Sanford, Patricia Cornwell, Mary Higgins Clark, Michael Connelly, Nelson DeMille, and James Patterson, among others.

To give some perspective, in 1975 there had been no books by Mr. Grisham, Ms. Grafton, Mr. Sanford, Ms. Cornwell, Mr. Connelly, or Mr. Patterson. Mr. Parker had had his first book published the previous year, Mr. Leonard had published two hardcover crime novels and some Westerns, Ms. Clark’s first book had just come out, and Mr. DeMille was publishing cheap paperback originals.

There had been a few highly successful mystery writers – mainly to the astonishment of their publishers or in spite of the apparently determined efforts to keep them in their place. A concerted effort by several fellow authors, Eudora Welty and William Goldman, helped to finally get Ross Macdonald on the best-seller list. Mickey Spillane had already been a phenomenon, placing his first seven mysteries on the list of top-10 all-time fiction best-sellers in America. But there were not many other success stories.

The feeling among publishers seemed to be that the only way to sell mysteries was to libraries or in paperback, preferably with lurid covers. One edition of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” had a colorful bondage illustration of a sexy young woman in a torn blouse with her wrists tied to a wall. There may have been a few younger readers who looked in vain for such a scene in the novel.

When I opened the Mysterious Bookshop on Friday, the 13th of April, 1979, it was common for people to come into the store to buy a gift while quickly proclaiming, with evident pride, they never read mysteries themselves. Even sales reps from major publishers displayed dismay and disbelief when I told them I would devote the entire second floor to hardcover mysteries. They warned me, with genuine concern, that people only read these books in paperback.

Soon, though, there were more than 50 bookstores in the U.S. devoted entirely to mystery fiction. Universities, which had previously ignored it, began to offer literature courses in crime fiction; 300 schools added it to the curriculum.

The Mysterious Press, distributed by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, offered outstanding authors (including Donald E. Westlake, Patricia Highsmith, and Gregory McDonald) in all-cloth bindings, acid-free paper (when it was still new), and lavish full-color dust jackets. When it joined with Warner Books, which had some of the smartest and most aggressive publishing experts in the business, it became a major force in mystery fiction, taking authors to the major library and book seller conventions for the first time in history. Other houses quickly followed suit.

As advertising and promotion budgets rose, mystery writers were soon visiting mystery bookstores around the country, meeting their fans and creating new ones. General bookstores did not fail to notice these successes, and soon they began hosting their own autographing parties. These personal appearances were of seminal importance in locating readers and solidifying their commitment to their favorite authors.

When mystery writers began to sell well in hardcover, it forced reviewers to pay more attention to them, and the snowball effect pushed many authors onto the best-seller list. Once a few made it, publishers recognized further opportunities and gave more support to other mystery writers on their lists, helping them achieve new sales levels.

That’s the good news. Never again will crime and mystery writers be treated as second-class citizens. Further, and equally important, the literary quality of the best crime fiction easily matches (and, I would argue, surpasses) most “serious” literature. Someone would have to make a powerful argument to convince me that the writing of today’s so-called literary writers is superior to the best work by Elmore Leonard, Dennis Lehane, Joyce Carol Oates, Michael Connelly, George Pelecanos, James Ellroy, Ken Bruen, James Crumley, or Thomas H. Cook.

The bad news is that publishing has undergone massive changes in recent years, with mergers and acquisitions forming huge companies (frequently owned by even larger corporations) that are filled with business-school graduates who refer to books as “product” and sales as “distribution.” The increased overhead of these conglomerates forces greater attention to the bottom line and the financial aspects of the next quarter.

There is little patience for developing writers today, and if authors haven’t found a substantial audience within two or three books, they are likely to be dropped. Big publishers don’t want singles hitters; they want their authors to hit home runs. A hopeful sign is that several new independent publishers specializing in mystery fiction have been born in the past few years. Poisoned Pen Press, Hard Case Crime, and several other little presses have picked up authors who lost their previous homes, and also discovered new talent.

The era between World War I and World War II is often referred to as the Golden Age of mystery fiction. I think the present is the Platinum Age, with many truly distinguished writers producing works that will stand the test of time better than most recent winners of the National Book Awards and Nobel Prizes. Yet some book review sections (notably the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, and the snobby New York Review of Books) still fail to give adequate coverage and respect to the most important and original writers working today. Why? It’s a mystery to me.

Mr. Penzler is the proprietor of the Mysterious Book Shop. He can be reached at openzler@nysun.com.