The device of adressing the reader directly while discussing the conventions and historical development of the genre you're writing in is a bit overly clever-clever, but it settles down, and the actual story is really good, but the logical end-point of breaking the fourth wall - and whenever this happens I never feel like I'm the reader the writer is talking to, but some other reader over there I can't see - ends up being a touch trite and obvious. Really? That's where you were going with this? When writers engage in this sort of playful deconstruction, they always seem to neglect the most important part of what makes any book, including murder mysteries, worth reading - pathos - in favour of plot mechanics and tropes, presumably becase they're more easily identified and quantified and do indeed exert a fascination. The ending here undermines a moment of immense pathos. Perhaps deliberately, but it either wasn't worth it, or he failed to find anything profound or new in the point he was trying to make. Still, I admire ambition, so, nice try, author.