I first heard the term “child peril lit” many years ago when my Jodi Picoult obsession was at its peak. It so perfectly describes the genre that it suggests why someone might be drawn to it. You know: that feeling that reading about it somehow protects you and your family. Now that I have a daughter, I’m not sure that psychology is so useful for me anymore. In fact it seems to lessen my enjoyment of a book, taking me out because I can’t allow myself to get as emotionally involved out of self-protection.