We all have our favorite kind of reading experience, which can be interpreted in a variety of ways. Some people like fiction, some nonfiction. Some like poetry, some like avant-garde literature, some like Harlequin romances (thank heavens, no one I know, or at least no one who will admit it).

But the choices are even more varied, taking in those who enjoy contemporary works and those who prefer the 19th century, or earlier. Additionally, there is the question of length. A long time ago, novels tended to be so long that they were published in two or three volumes (double-and-triple-deckers, as they’re known). While multigenerational sagas and fantasy novels are still often fat volumes, the average work of fiction is now about 250 to 400 pages, give or take.

On the other hand, short stories are terribly demanding little buggers, which can be perfect gems or nothing more than ho-hum slices of life. Just as novels have the disadvantage of requiring a commitment of time that many readers are reluctant or unable to give, short stories are hampered by offering insufficient space for an author to fully develop characters or provide more than a utilitarian background in which to tell the story.

It is here, in that broad area between the novel and the short story, that the novella steps in to fill a gap. And what a lovely form it is! For a generation that has been raised with MTV, it is an ideal vehicle for storytelling, though of course it has been around for a long time. Henry James’s “The Turn of the Screw,” Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea,” and John Steinbeck’s “The Red Pony” are just a few of the classics of the form.

Joyce Carol Oates has returned to the novella time and again, most recently with “Rape: A Love Story” and “Beasts,” having previously produced such powerful short works as “Zombie,” “Black Water,” and “First Love: A Gothic Tale.” Long enough for nuance, a bit of subplot, well-developed characters, a background colored with a full palette rather than a black-and-white sketch, the novella fulfills the reader’s desire for a fleshed-out story while offering the opportunity to read it, cover to cover, in a single sitting. It cannot be populated by as many characters as a novel, nor move in time or place widely, but it can, nonetheless, recount a satisfying adventure in about the same time it takes to watch a movie (if you throw in travel time).

Several of today’s top crime writers, as well as authors not generally associated with mystery fiction but who have turned to the genre, have recently written novellas, mostly with superb results. In James Ellroy’s brilliant “Destination: Morgue!” (Vintage, 388 pages, $13.95), there are three novellas, including one about the sleazy Danny Getchell of Hush-Hush magazine, last seen in “L.A. Confidential.” All three feature the actress Dana (in the first, Donna in the second and third) Donohue, and they are as dark and weird as you would expect from America’s nabob of noir.

The Pulitzer winning author (for “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay”) Michael Chabon has long been an advocate for popular literary genres and has ventured into the world of detective fiction with “The Final Solution” (Fourth Estate, 131 pages, $16.95). Where does one begin to describe this truly distinguished novella? It is, as the dust jacket clearly states, a story of detection, but, as is true of every great detective story, it is so much more.

It is 1944, and the detective happens to be an 89-year-old man who has retired to keep bees on the Sussex Downs. He remains unnamed throughout the story, though anyone with even a cursory knowledge of mystery fiction will recognize Sherlock Holmes at once. Here, the Old Man encounters a 9-year-old boy with a parrot on his shoulder. The boy is, apparently, mute, but the parrot spews numbers in German at frequent intervals. This strange duo arouses both tenderness and curiosity in the retired consulting detective as he tries to learn the secret of each. Where has the boy come from, why does he say nothing, what do the numbers mean?

When the boy is placed in a boarding house, the other guests are fascinated with the bizarre parrot, which is soon “birdnapped,” while a man is murdered. Holmes comes out of retirement to find the brightly colored bird, return him to his young companion, and discover the killer.

“The Final Solution” resonates with dual meaning: It refers to the Holocaust, of course, which was racing forward at full throttle in 1944, and also “The Final Problem,” which Arthur Conan Doyle had intended to be the last Holmes adventure when he had his detective and the evil genius Professor Moriarty engage in a struggle at the edge of the Reichenbach Falls, during which they both apparently plunged to their death.

In Mr. Chabon’s novella, Holmes is only partially successful. He never learns the secret of the parrot’s numbers and, even more importantly, he is never even confronted with the problem of Nazi Germany’s final solution.

Also trying their hands at the novella are Faye and Jonathan Kellerman. Each now regular visitors to the national bestseller lists, they have collaborated for the first time on two novellas, published dos-a-dos as “Double Homicide: Boston” and “Double Homicide: Santa Fe” (Warner, 147 pages & 133 pages, $23.95). Written in the same breezy styles that have made them so successful independently, the collaborative efforts are good, solid mystery stories that are sure-fire crowd-pleasers. I expect we’ll see more of these, set in various other cities, and that would be okay with me.

I wouldn’t, categorically, take the position that short is better. Believe me, I can think of plenty of examples where it is most assuredly worse. Some stories, however, like directions and prison sentences, are better when they aren’t too long.

Mr. Penzler is the proprietor of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan and the series editor of the annual “Best American Mystery Stories.” He can be reached at openzler@nysun.com