Lovers of suspense fiction, take heart: The thrill is not gone. Nine of this week’s 11 recommended titles come from the Book Review’s recent issue devoted to the thriller genre, from bankers lured into a deadly elevator (“The Escape Room”) to Chinese crime bosses (“Beijing Payback”) to a young mother worried about a possible intruder (“The Need”).

If you’re more accustomed to finding your thrills in language and those who immerse themselves in it, then you might want to pick up Gretchen McCulloch’s “Because Internet” or the love letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, which prove Scott wasn’t the only writer in that marriage, and maybe not even the best.

Gregory Cowles

Senior Editor, Books

Twitter: @GregoryCowles

BECAUSE INTERNET: Understanding the New Rules of Language, by Gretchen McCulloch. (Riverhead, $26.) If you want to know if you’re a Semi Internet Person or a Full Internet Person, or why taking care to keep one’s exclamation points to exactly two (“!!”) is apparently emerging as the marker of genuine enthusiasm, then the linguist Gretchen McCulloch’s new book is for you. “Because Internet,” which breaks down just how life online has rewritten the rules of how we communicate, is “an incisive and entertaining guidebook,” our critic Jennifer Szalai writes. “McCulloch is such a disarming writer — lucid, friendly, unequivocally excited about her subject — that I began to marvel at the flexibility of the online language she describes, with its numerous shades of subtlety.”

DEAR SCOTT, DEAREST ZELDA: The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, edited by Jackson R. Bryer and Cathy W. Barks. (Scribner, $22.) The Fitzgeralds’ marital unhappiness was legendary, but this collection shows that their bond proved stubborn and sturdy, and survived it all. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s letters are wan and few compared to Zelda’s, but our critic Parul Sehgal says that getting to know Zelda better is reason enough to read this collection. “I was anticipating someone doleful, distracted — not this funny, hard-boiled observer of her own life whose letters read like short stand-up sequences,” Sehgal writes. “She has no secondhand impressions or turns of phrase — everything she writes and thinks feels tart, original, lightly distressing.”