Final Girls by Riley Sager Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“I think she's going to say something about Him.  Most likely because of the nightmare, which lingers sticky on my skin like drying perspiration.  I brace myself to hear her tell me that He's resurfaced, as I always knew He would.  It doesn't matter that He's dead.  That I gladly watched Him die.”- Final Girls, Riley Sager

Ten years ago, college student Quincy Carpenter went on vacation with five friends and came back alone, the only survivor of a horror movie–scale massacre. In an instant, she became a member of a club no one wants to belong to—a group of similar survivors known in the press as the Final Girls. Lisa, who lost nine sorority sisters to a college dropout's knife; Sam, who went up against the Sack Man during her shift at the Nightlight Inn; and now Quincy, who ran bleeding through the woods to escape Pine Cottage and the man she refers to only as Him. The three girls are all attempting to put their nightmares behind them, and, with that, one another. Despite the media's attempts, they never meet.
 
Now, Quincy is doing well—maybe even great, thanks to her Xanax prescription. She has a caring almost-fiancé, Jeff; a popular baking blog; a beautiful apartment; and a therapeutic presence in Coop, the police officer who saved her life all those years ago. Her memory won’t even allow her to recall the events of that night; the past is in the past. 
 
That is, until Lisa, the first Final Girl, is found dead in her bathtub, wrists slit, and Sam, the second, appears on Quincy's doorstep. Blowing through Quincy's life like a whirlwind, Sam seems intent on making Quincy relive the past, with increasingly dire consequences, all of which makes Quincy question why Sam is really seeking her out. And when new details about Lisa's death come to light, Quincy's life becomes a race against time as she tries to unravel Sam's truths from her lies, evade the police and hungry reporters, and, most crucially, remember what really happened at Pine Cottage, before what was started ten years ago is finished.

I finally read Final Girls, 2017's hottest thriller. I have been wanting to read it for the longest time, but every time I went to the library, it was out. And now, almost a full year since it came out, I finally got my hands on a copy. Was it worth the wait?

Well...

Just general thriller writing 101- maybe try and make it so one doesn't guess exactly who did it in the first ten pages? Now, I'm sure this premature guessing doesn't bother some people, but it bothers the hell out of me. I shouldn't be able to make snap guesses like that, Sager! Let me hang on my line a little longer! 

Admittedly, this may just have to do with the fact that I read a lot of thrillers and have been so well-acquainted with the usual twists and turns of this genre that I can smell a twist coming from 100 pages away. I can't remember the last time a mystery shocked me and that's why lately I've been gravitating towards thrillers that are less whodunnit and are more character studies than anything else. As Final Girls is very much your typical adult "psychological" thriller, along the same lines as The Perfect Stranger, it's not really the kind of thing that's been speaking to me lately.

Speaking of The Perfect Stranger, this novel reminded me a lot of that one. Both deal with characters with dark pasts and, in both books, a strange girl with a closet full of corpses comes into their lives. And in both, very little happens until the end.

Seriously. When I read a thriller that isn't written by Tana French, it better be tense and those bodies better rack up real fast. Or it should be disturbing and psychological. This book is neither of those. In fact, if it was a slasher flick I would probably have turned it off by now, disappointed, and I don't even like slasher flicks. How the heck did Sager write a book inspired by the formulaic plots of violent movies and make it so vanilla? Here at Bookworm Basics, we have a loose idea as to what horror is (defined as anything with Gothic or disturbing elements) and I wouldn't even put this book under that category. 

I mean, in Sager's favor, he's managed to ape that female contemporary thriller style so well, I had no idea that he was a man until I went on Goodreads. Dude picked the right pen name- he'd blend right in with all the vaguely masculine leaning gender neutral names that women writers chose because they are worried about losing the .5 of the male population that might even think about picking up a novel about a woman whose murdered neighbor was having an affair with her husband (who could it have been?). 

So yeah, Final Girls. I like the idea behind it- of course, otherwise I wouldn't have picked it up. But it just did not suck me in the way thrillers should, and that makes me disappointed. I probably will read his second book, but I'm not going to look forward to it.

5.5 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

The Perfect Stranger by Megan Miranda

The Substitute by Nicole Lundrigan Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“He reminded himself that his childhood days were far behind him. He was a grown up now, a man, a developmental biologist, a PhD. In the future, a tenured professor, if that was what he decided to do. Right now he was taking a slight sidestep, a year-long break from his lab to become a substitute teacher in middle school.”- The Substitute, Nicole Lundrigan

Warren Botts is a disillusioned Ph.D., taking a break from his lab to teach middle-school science. Gentle, soft-spoken, and lonely, he innocently befriends Amanda, one of his students. But one morning, Amanda is found dead in his backyard, and Warren, shocked, flees the scene.

As the small community slowly turns against him, an anonymous narrator, a person of extreme intelligence and emotional detachment, offers insight into events past and present. As the tension builds, we gain an intimate understanding of the power of secrets, illusions, and memories.

Nicole Lundrigan uses her prodigious talent to deliciously creepy effect, producing a finely crafted page-turner and a chilling look into the mind of a psychopath. 

The Substitute is a creepy, Tana Frenchish thriller but without the police procedural parts. And when I say Tana Frenchish, I mean really. Right down to the cover, which would fit nicely on the shelf that holds my Dublin Murder Squad collection. 

The cover isn't the only way that it fits. Lundrigan's writing style is ornate the same way French's is, and her book is equally as slow-moving. This doesn't work as well for me because the mystery doesn't feel as intense or the stakes aren't high enough for me to care about it in any particular way, and the characters didn't feel real enough for me to want to root for them. Again, contrast this to Tana French, who, while it is true her murder mysteries don't really have high stakes attached, writes characters in such a way you just want to keep reading even if it's because you want to spend a little more time with them.

The characters could be better, too. I liked Warren Botts plenty, because I like those stuttering, shy, and effeminate male characters, but the sociopath... You could not find a more cliched, un-nuanced portrayal of a sociopath if you tried. She's scary smart, sounds like no child I've ever encountered, and, well, you know those Tumblr girls who claim to have DID or BPD or what have you? And when you actually read their posts it sounds like they looked up that mental illness on Wikipedia or WMD and copied all the symptoms? Yeah, that's what the sociopath's chapters read like. 

I mean, I enjoyed reading The Substitute, and applauded Lundrigan's twists and turns, but it was hard to get into that mystery, and when only one of the two POV characters is any good or feels original, then that's a problem. I might check out whatever Lundrigan puts out next, but I'd recommend passing on this one. Read In the Woods instead!

7 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

In the Woods by Tana French

The Night Ocean by Paul la Farge Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“As a Freudian, I'm not supposed to use words like evil; my business is with instinct, memory, and desire. Nevertheless, I've been wondering, lately, whether evil might exist. If it does, I've been thinking, it might be like what Freud called the navel of the dream, the place where all the lines of meaning the analyst has so carefully traced through the patient's life vanish into the unknown. But where the navel of the dream is essentially harmless phenomenon, a point where the dream's meaning is sufficiently understood, and further interpretation would be pointless, evil is a mystery with power. It reaches up into the world and makes everything mysterious.”- The Night Ocean, Paul la Farge

Marina Willett, M.D., has a problem. Her husband, Charlie, has become obsessed with H.P. Lovecraft, in particular with one episode in the legendary horror writer's life: In the summer of 1934, the "old gent" lived for two months with a gay teenage fan named Robert Barlow, at Barlow's family home in central Florida. What were the two of them up to? Were they friends--or something more? Just when Charlie thinks he's solved the puzzle, a new scandal erupts, and he disappears. The police say it's suicide. Marina is a psychiatrist, and she doesn't believe them.

A tour-de-force of storytelling, The Night Ocean follows the lives of some extraordinary people: Lovecraft, the most influential American horror writer of the 20th century, whose stories continue to win new acolytes, even as his racist views provoke new critics; Barlow, a seminal scholar of Mexican culture who killed himself after being blackmailed for his homosexuality (and who collaborated with Lovecraft on the beautiful story The Night Ocean); his student, future Beat writer William S. Burroughs; and L.C. Spinks, a kindly Canadian appliance salesman and science-fiction fan -- the only person who knows the origins of The Erotonomicon, purported to be the intimate diary of Lovecraft himself.

As a heartbroken Marina follows her missing husband's trail in an attempt to learn the truth, the novel moves across the decades and along the length of the continent, from a remote Ontario town, through New York and Florida to Mexico City.

The Night Ocean is about love and deception -- about the way that stories earn our trust, and betray it.

So, one might ask, what's a decidedly non speculative fiction fan doing reading a book about Lovecraft, the most famous speculative fiction writer after Tolkien? I have never read anything by Lovecraft, nor have I ever had any desire to. Back in high school, I was friends with a kid who was also a big reader, but he read exclusively thick, musty-looking mass-market paperbacks by big name fantasy and science fiction writers. He was a big Lovecraft fan, and that's probably why I never bothered with Lovecraft, because as much as I liked the kid, I would never have the stamina to read the books he did. So the answer to the above question is just that I liked Night Film and wanted to read a book similar to it. This book came up and the synopsis intrigued me enough to give it a shot. 

So naturally, I will not speak to the accuracy of anything that goes on in this book, because I wouldn't have any idea what I'm talking about. So I will only be talking about whether or not this is a good book as opposed to whether or not it is a good representation of Lovecraft. Okay? Cool.

This book is written from the perspective of the world's most tolerant wife. It's kind of sweet, actually, just how much Marina cares for and the extent she's willing to go to support her husband, Charlie, even long after most spouses would stop trying. She also never divorces him, though the two do separate. It's kind of admirable actually, and the relationship between Marina and Charlie is really the best part of the book. The rest of the characters? Well, they're interesting at first. And then I just kind of lost interest in them. 

I think part of the problem is that the book loses its way a bit. It was hard to stay invested in a novel that went on long, seemingly random tangents about the lives of Robert Barlow and Spinks. I mean, that also a problem I had with Night Film, but the tangents in Night Film felt more like they were actually related to the central story. Not so much in this story. I found them boring and pointless, basically.

The story behind it is fascinating, and that's what ended up saving The Night Ocean. It isn't a bad book by any means, though, and I think it would make a nice creepy read for the Halloween season. I wouldn't recommend it over Night Film, but if someone really liked that book I'd recommend this one.

7 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

Night Film by Marisha Pessl

The Basic Eight by Daniel Handler Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Maybe, generations ago, young people rebelled out of some clear motive, but now, we know we’re rebelling. Between teen movies and sex-ed textbooks we’re so ready for our rebellious phase we can’t help but feel it’s safe, contained. It will turn out all right, despite the risk, snug in the shell of rebellion narrative. Rebellion narrative, does that make sense? It was appropriate to do, so we did it.”- The Basic Eight, Daniel Handler

Flannery Culp wants you to know the whole story of her spectacularly awful senior year. Tyrants, perverts, tragic crushes, gossip, cruel jokes, and the hallucinatory effects of absinthe -- Flannery and the seven other friends in the Basic Eight have suffered through it all. But now, on tabloid television, they're calling Flannery a murderer, which is a total lie. It's true that high school can be so stressful sometimes. And it's true that sometimes a girl just has to kill someone. But Flannery wants you to know that she's not a murderer at all -- she's a murderess.

Hey guys! Hope everyone had a good Christmas! I had a nice holiday and the first of my Christmas book reviews will be up tomorrow. I actually read this before Christmas, but then got too distracted to write a review by, well, wrapping presents, baking cookies, and watching countless Drawfee videos, my new favorite YouTube channel. Anyway, let's get into the review.

I've never been a Daniel Handler or Lemony Snickett fan, surprising since I love morbid shit like the kind of books he writes. There's just something about his writing that's always kind of turned me off. I think part of the problem is that he's a very gimmicky writer- in this case each chapter ending in vocabulary and study questions-, that and his parodies or satires are too obvious to me to be funny. The reason why The Basic Eight didn't work for me is because it was trying so hard to be funny, and it wasn't like Handler was breaking new comedic ground by making fun of Oprah Winfrey or talk show moralists. 

I think also I encountered this book at the wrong time. It's soon to be 20 years old and it feels every year. Oprah's not as big of a presence as she used to be, people don't freak out about drug use in teenagers the way they used to, and now our travelling moralists are more along the same lines as Al Sharpton. It's not yet old enough to become a charming relic of the late 90s, nor does it have a certain timeless quality that makes it transcend its age. 

I want to go back to the unfunniness of it, which is likely The Basic Eight's biggest flaw. This is a failed stand-up comic of a book, with every joke leaving me staring blankly at the screen of my iPad waiting for the punchline. I can see that Handler was going for a Heathers kind of feel to the novel, but the reason why that movie survived through the years is because it focuses on and draws its humor from a topic as timeless as mean girls in high school. If The Basic Eight had taken its cues from that, the book's satirical punches probably would have actually landed.

But take away the comedy and painfully dated drug references and what do you have? At its heart, a basic The Secret History-type storyline, complete with its checklist of characters. Or at least, it would have a character checklist if any of the other characters besides Flannery were fleshed out at all. One thing I noticed about all these The Secret History-type novels is that they miss the main thing that makes The Secret History work so well- its characters, and how well drawn and defined and developed they are. Most authors who try and write books like Tartt's seem to think that the mystery and the setting is why people loved the original, which is why they focus so much on that aspect and seem to regard their characters (besides the narrator) as being interchangeable vehicles meant to add ambiance. Which brings me to another point- these narrators have way too much to do with the plot. In The Secret History, Richard took a backseat to the story, and his character wasn't as important as Henry et al. In this book, Flannery takes the center stage, and by the end I couldn't tell Kate from Jennifer Rose. 

Despite writing all of this, I didn't really hate The Basic Eight. It just wasn't my kind of book, and, to be honest, I wish I had DNFed it instead of forcing myself to get through it. This is the kind of book its easier to understand what it did wrong than what it did right, and the best thing I can say in the book's favor is that it didn't piss me off enough for me to hate it. But if you really wanted to read it, don't let me stop you. I'm sure you'd like it more than I did.

5 out of 10

If We Were Villains by ML Rio Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Actors are by nature volatile—alchemic creatures composed of incendiary elements, emotion and ego and envy. Heat them up, stir them together, and sometimes you get gold. Sometimes disaster.”- If We Were Villains, ML Rio

Enter the players. There were seven of us then, seven bright young things with wide precious futures ahead of us. Until that year, we saw no further than the books in front of our faces.

On the day Oliver Marks is released from jail, the man who put him there is waiting at the door. Detective Colborne wants to know the truth, and after ten years, Oliver is finally ready to tell it.

Ten years ago: Oliver is one of seven young Shakespearean actors at Dellecher Classical Conservatory, a place of keen ambition and fierce competition. In this secluded world of firelight and leather-bound books, Oliver and his friends play the same roles onstage and off: hero, villain, tyrant, temptress, ingénue, extra. But in their fourth and final year, the balance of power begins to shift, good-natured rivalries turn ugly, and on opening night real violence invades the students’ world of make believe. In the morning, the fourth-years find themselves facing their very own tragedy, and their greatest acting challenge yet: convincing the police, each other, and themselves that they are innocent.

Part coming-of-age story, part confession, If We Were Villains explores the magical and dangerous boundary between art and life. In this tale of loyalty and betrayal, madness and ecstasy, the players must choose what roles to play before the curtain falls.

Last month, I finally read The Secret History after it had been sitting on my shelf since *ahem* July and decided it was one of my favorite books ever. I couldn't get enough of the plot and characters and just everything about it. Happily, since it came out, there have been dozens upon dozens of books trying to duplicate the success of The Secret History, and today's book is one of them.

Reading If We Were Villains is interesting because it takes the plot and characters of The Secret History and sucks all the life out of them. Even if I hadn't recently read The Secret History, I could probably still pick up on the distinct rip-offness of this novel. It just doesn't feel fresh and original. For one, I wasn't nearly as invested in the characters. That's where the huge size of The Secret History works, it gives Tartt room to introduce the characters, have us get to know them before the murder, and then allow her to play around with their psyche after the murder. In this, we barely knew them before the murder, so we don't really have a clear indication as to whether or not how their acting is within the norm for their character.

I also think that there were too many characters to focus on. Sure, Tartt's book also had a lot of main characters, but again Tartt's book was almost 600 pages and that's more than enough room to have a large cast of main characters. In this novel, I couldn't keep any of the characters straight in my head, and constantly confused, say, Alexander and James or forgot that Richard and Wren were cousins. I did, however, find it amusing to pair up each character with their The Secret History counterpart- Oliver is like a less-likable version of Richard, Meredith and Wren both have elements of Camilla in them, Alexander is kind of like Bunny and Charles, James is Francis, and Richard is both Henry and Charles. That leaves Filippa as the only original character and probably the author's favorite given that she gets the most page time out of anyone besides Oliver.

The mystery was also underwhelming. By the third chapter, I guessed who was going to die and who killed him. One of the things that annoyed me about this book was that Rio overdid it on Richard, making him out to be a world class jerk. Compare that to Bunny in The Secret History, who had his faults but you felt bad for him in the end. 

Anyway, I don't really recommend If We Were Villains, unless one is a big Shakespeare or The Secret History fan. If you are, it's worth at least checking this one out.

6 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Likeness by Tana French

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

The Basic Eight by David Handler

The Secret Place by Tana French

The Zero and the One by Ryan Ruby Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Death and Birth, Nothingness and Being, the Zero and the One. The same things . . . only different.”- The Zero and the One, Ryan Ruby

A shy, bookish scholarship student from a working-class family, Owen Whiting has high hopes of what awaits him at Oxford, only to find himself adrift and out of place among the university's dim aristocrats and posh radicals. But his life takes a dramatic turn when he is assigned to the same philosophy tutorial as Zachary Foedern, a visiting student from New York City. Rich, brilliant, and charismatic, Zach takes Owen under his wing, introducing him to a world of experiences Owen has only ever read about. 

From the quadrangles of Oxford to the seedy underbelly of Berlin, they practice what Zach preaches, daring each other to transgress the boundaries of convention and morality, until Zach proposes the greatest transgression of all: a suicide pact. But when Zach's plans go horribly awry, Owen is left to pick up the pieces in the sleek lofts and dingy dives of lower Manhattan. Now he must navigate the treacherous boundary between illusion and reality if he wants to understand his friend and preserve a hold on his once bright future.

Despite the fact that I don't really like intense female friendship stories, I do like intense male friendship stories because I see those less and, well, one of my favorite books of all time is one. But it wasn't just because of that I picked it, no, it was because last month, I read a little book called The Secret History and decided that it was one of my favorite books ever. I was enchanted by the story, the characters, the writing, and couldn't get enough of it. Happily, there are tons of books that are labelled as being "in the tradition of The Secret History" and this month will likely be peppered with such books. The Zero and the One is one of them.

In sharp contrast to Marlena, which I read right before this one, I was instantly glued to The Zero and the One. I couldn't stop thinking about it when I wasn't reading it, and actually had to pry myself away from it when I had to do other things. Even when I took a break to eat dinner (I kind of forced myself to do that, I wasn't too keen on what this book was doing to my brain) I still couldn't stop thinking of it. You know a book has a stern hold on you when not even Law and Order can distract you.

Really, this should be a slam dunk for me, The Secret History crossed with Brideshead Revisited. Still, I can't quite bring myself to wholly condone this novel. There's an overarching pretension about it that I disliked, and I had a hard time believing in Zach and Owen's friendship. There was no chemistry, for lack of a better word, between them, much to my annoyance. Likely, this was due to the short length, which is something I never say. I also felt the timeline was very sped up, and that's why I couldn't quite grasp what either of these two saw in each other.

Also, Tori and Claire are only around just so we don't think Zach and Owen are in love. That's probably why they have little personality.

But there's a lot of good in it, too. I liked the philosophical stuff. I liked Vera and Zach's relationship and how absolutely twisted it was. I liked the suicide pact stuff, and I loved the ending. The writing is very pretty once you can stomach the pretension. 

At the same time, though, the more I think about it the more I don't really like it. When I first finished it, I was blown away, now, I don't know. In that respect, it's like the opposite of Running, a book where I wasn't really sure I liked it while reading it but the more time I put between myself and the book the more I liked it. Both books had the same surreal hold on me, but one aged better in my head then the other. 

So, do I recommend The Zero and the One? I don't know. If you loved The Secret History and Brideshead Revisited and have a strong stomach for philosophy, go for it. If not, skip it. 

8 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

The Secret History by Donna Tartt Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.”- The Secret History, Donna Tartt

Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last - inexorably - into evil.

Yes, I'm aware that this book was published in the 90s and I don't usually write full reviews for books not published in the 21st century because, well, I don't see how my thoughts about Bukowski's Ham and Rye (but you can look forward to that in my wrap-up) or Capote's Answered Prayers would really bring anything new to the table. But with this book I feel compelled to write a full review.

I thought I would hate this book. And I'm sure if you saw my tastes in books you'd probably think the same thing. It's long, kinda pretension, and there is a laundry list of flaws with the characters- they're cold, selfish, unfeeling, and cannot deal with reality. 

And yet I loved every goddamn page of this book. 

The writing is Fitzgerald-esque. The characters, with their suits and cigarettes and problems with hard liquor are old-fashioned in a way that endears me. In fact, the book feels like it should take place in the Edwardian times or the Roaring Twenties instead of the late 80s early 90s, and for once I was not annoyed by the fact that the book doesn't seem to know when it wants to take place. Instead, I liked it- the strange old-fashionedness of the twins, Francis, Henry, and to a lesser extent Bunny only served to set them apart from all the other characters, show how different they are from Judy and Cloke.

The biggest sign as to how much I liked this novel is that I was not once bored by it. I mean, when it's a 500+ page novel and the murder happens with 300 pages of story left to get to, this basically means that The Secret History will go down as one of my favorite books ever. The last time a long book managed to capture my attention until the end, it was A Gentleman in Moscow which I read last September. I understand that some people were extremely bored in the second half, but I was loving it. I was intrigued by all the characters and I didn't really want it to end. I didn't want to get out of the world that these characters inhabited. 400 pages into it, I was still laughing and grinning when something was reveled and swooning at Tartt's writing and overall just completely and utterly enjoying myself.

Seriously, I don't think I've enjoyed reading a book quite this much since, well, Marina back in March. I mean, sure, I've loved books since then, like Graffiti Moon or Norwegian Wood, but this was different. I think I actually fell in love with this book. I have this kind of annoying and very girlish habit of putting my hand above my heart when I love something (or when I'm surprised- I swear sometimes I'm one fainting couch away from being a Victorian lady) and that hand was almost permanently attached to my chest the entire time I was reading this book.

Do I have a favorite character? How can I choose between the twins, Francis, Bunny, or even Richard- who's a Nick Caraway narrator if there ever was one. By the end of the novel, even cokehead Judy had a special place in my heart.

The only thing I didn't really like about the book was the ending, but other than that, I adored the book. This is not the kind of book I'd freely recommend out, since, like in the case of Cara Hoffman's Running, it's meant for a very specific audience. I don't have any particular desire to read The Goldfinch now, but The Secret History will likely become one of my favorite books ever.

9-9.5 out of 10

Defending Jacob by William Landley Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“I rather doubt he had the sense to see the truth: that there are wounds worse than fatal, which the law's little binary distinctions-guilty/innocent, criminal/victim-cannot fathom, let alone fix. The law is a hammer, not a scalpel.”- Defending Jacob, William Landley

Andy Barber has been an assistant district attorney for two decades. He is respected. Admired in the courtroom. Happy at home with the loves of his life: his wife, Laurie, and their teenage son, Jacob.

Then Andy’s quiet suburb is stunned by a shocking crime: a young boy stabbed to death in a leafy park. And an even greater shock: The accused is Andy’s own son—shy, awkward, mysterious Jacob.

Andy believes in Jacob’s innocence. Any parent would. But the pressure mounts. Damning evidence. Doubt. A faltering marriage. The neighbors’ contempt. A murder trial that threatens to obliterate Andy’s family.

It is the ultimate test for any parent: How far would you go to protect your child? It is a test of devotion. A test of how well a parent can know a child. For Andy Barber, a man with an iron will and a dark secret, it is a test of guilt and innocence in the deepest sense.

How far would you go?

This is a legal thriller technically but is really more of a family drama with a lot of courthouse scenes. In fact, it strikes me as a male version of a Jodi Picoult novel, more specifically the one about the boy with Asperger's who is accused of murder. I suppose you could call it a housewife or Book Club thriller because I can imagine those demographics being the ones the most likely to pick up Defending Jacob.

The thing that really makes Defending Jacob stand out is just how much I hated the narrator. It is rare that I say this, but if I were to meet Andy Barber in real life, I would despise him. He was just so... obnoxious that I wanted to slap him. You know the stereotype of the arrogant male that feminists like to trot out? He's basically the embodiment of that stereotype.

In a lot of ways, he reminded me of a male version of those Martyr Mom characters I hate so much. On the surface, he'd seem like the kind of dad you'd want to have defending you, but dig a little deeper and it's clear he's just doing it for himself. The whole reason why he cares so much about his son being a murderer is because that reflects badly on him, not because he's worried about his son being in prison.

The biggest problem I found with the book, though, is not Andy. It's the fact that the author works off the idea that we believe as much as Andy did that Jacob is innocent and so as the evidence builds against Jacob, we are shocked and begin to see the prosecution's side. The problem with that is that I never saw Jacob as being innocent in the first place. Landley never gave us a reason to not suspect Jacob, except that Andy Barber "knows his son". I once watched a show on the ID channel in which they were talking to this little old lady, who was the mother of a quite prolific serial killer. She swore that her son had nothing to do with the crimes, even though it was obvious to everyone he committed those killings. My point is, parents don't really know their kids. 

There is some good in this novel that held me back from absolutely hating it. I was amused by Landley's ability to mimic the way teenage girls speak, with lots of you knows and likes and all those great teenager-isms. I also really liked Laurie as a character and wished there was more focus on her and her thoughts about Jacob. I also liked the ending a lot and wished it wasn't just a twist.

I think the main reason why this book doesn't really work as well as Picoult novels do is the absence of alternating POVs. Yes, I am advocating more multiple POVs, but hear me out. The thing that makes Picoult books interesting is that we get all sides of the story, and that's what fleshes the characters out. In this book, we just get Andy Barber's very one-dimensional view of everyone. All that means is that I feel bad for characters like the prosecutor, who was really getting shit on for no reason. 

Defending Jacob was easy to read, but in the end, I did not like it all that much. I wouldn't say I hated it, it's fluffy and I don't usually hate those kinds of books. I would say it raised some interesting questions about the idea of a genetic predisposition to murder, but I kind of knew that something like that exists- a lot of personality is inherited; check out twin studies if you don't believe me. It's on the lower mediocre side for me, I think.

4.5 out of 10

If you liked this book, you may also like:

House Rules by Jodi Picoult

The Pact by Jodi Picoult

Faithful Place by Tana French

Retribution by Jilliane Hoffman Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

C.J. Townsend is a brilliant prosecutor known for keeping her cool even when trying the most horrific cases. The latest: an accused serial killer who savors cruelty and considers murder an art. But this case is different. C.J. recognizes the suspect. She knows what he’s capable of. After all these years, she still has the nightmares to prove it. Now she’s walking the fine line between justice and revenge. Even C.J. isn’t prepared for where it will take her.

I finally got around to another Jilliane Hoffman novel, admittedly only because it was on Goodreads Deals and I'm cheap. But boy, am I glad I did. I have decided that Jilliane Hoffman is one of my newest favorite mystery writers. 

I will be the first to admit, this book isn't perfect. But it's unbelievably easy to read and get into, and it reminds me of watching an episode of Law and Order: SVU. I'm no SVU fangirl- though I do have a weakness for Elliot Stabler (when he was on the show) and Rafael Barba- but I'll put it on when there's nothing else to watch. And I even found this book in a similar way- I had nothing else I wanted to read, the book was cheap, and I remembered that I really liked the other Jilliane Hoffman book I read (Pretty Little Things, for those curious). And I was not disappointed.

I liked basically all the characters involved, with a special emphasis on Manny and Marisol, because I have a tendency to like characters who are kind of assholes, but in a fun way. One of the most common complaints I see about the book mostly have to do with the character of CJ Townsend and, more specifically, her relationship with Dominick, the sexy lead investigator in her case. Normally, I'd be annoyed by CJ's apparent inability to play by the rules (I'm a rebel only in my head) and her instant-y, angst-filled relationship with Dominick but for some reason, I wasn't too bothered by either of those things. CJ I kind of begrudgingly liked. She was a bit on the Mary Sue side, but I enjoyed following her around, and even if I didn't, the POVs switch around a ton anyway. 

The writing was okay. Again, it was easy to read and follow, and I was rarely lost. Even the legalese and copspeak was pretty easy to understand, and in that respect it, again, reminded me of a Law and Order episode. I had no difficulty following any of it despite being a layman, albeit one with some knowledge into police procedures gained from the ID Channel (thanks, Lt Joe Kenda!).

But the plot is where this book shines. Hoffman knows how to write an entertaining, action-packed novel and damn if she doesn't suck me in. It's on the over-dramatic side, at times unrealistic, but it's fun. I enjoyed following along with the mystery; I even inadvertently guessed whodunnit (completely by accident, though. My thought process was more like "it'd be fun if this person did it." and then a bit later on "holy shit I was right."). The voices of the criminals weren't as believable as they were in Pretty Little Things, but then again this was her debut. Also, when CJ Townsend went off the books at various points, I couldn't help but think that famous cop movie cliche "she's a loose cannon, but she's the best we've got.". Which never failed to make me laugh.

So, Jilliane Hoffman and Retribution both get a thumbs up from me. I mean, it's not fine literature, and I can definitely see the complaints that people have about it, but I liked it. It fits my definition of a fun read perfectly- a dark, violent, on the over-dramatic side police procedural. And that's all I need to say about that.

8-8.5 out of 10

Never Let You Go by Chevy Stevens Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“To spend her life thinking I left her by choice. I would try harder. I would be a better wife. I would make it work. That was over a year ago. Nothing had gotten better.”- Never Let You Go, Chevy Stevens

Eleven years ago, Lindsey Nash escaped into the night with her young daughter and left an abusive relationship. Her ex-husband, Andrew, was sent to jail and Lindsey started over with a new life.

Now, Lindsey is older and wiser, with her own business and a teenage daughter who needs her more than ever. When Andrew is finally released from prison, Lindsey believes she has cut all ties and left the past behind her. But she gets the sense that someone is watching her, tracking her every move. Her new boyfriend is threatened. Her home is invaded, and her daughter is shadowed. Lindsey is convinced it's her ex-husband, even though he claims he's a different person. But has he really changed? Is the one who wants her dead closer to home than she thought?

Chevy Stevens, like Gillian Flynn and Megan Abbott, is one of those super popular thriller writers, mostly with the women's lit crowd who are too edgy for Jodi Picoult. I don't have a problem with her popularity, though I did read one of her books- Still Missing- and thought it was only okay. The twist ending felt contrived and the writing was nothing special so it didn't get much higher than a three stars from me. Never Let You Go, not to be confused with the phenomenal Never Let Me Go, only solidified my Still Missing-conceived view of her.

The main thing that did not work for me was the writing/narrative- it's hard to separate the two. Stevens is a functional writer, but not a particularly artful one. She's not necessarily what I would consider to be a bad writer- she's not SM Parker- but she's also not Tana French either. She's not even Paula Hawkins, whose style I do kind of like, or Megan Abbott who I genuinely believe is a good writer- in small doses. I could tell reading this book that she went for an emphasis of plot and characters over writing, which is fine by me- in fact, I kind of prefer it to those who favor writing over everything else, which always feels hollow and self-indulgent to me- think The Night Circus. Still, it comes across in her writing- lots of telling, little showing, buckets of exposition, etc.

I wasn't too keen on her characters, either. My biggest issue with the abusive relationship depicted was that it came across as if Stevens' extent of knowledge of abusive relationships amounted to the Wikipedia article on it. Of course, I don't know her so I'm not implying anything, and it is true that a lot of Andrew's actions were textbook abusive behaviors, but there was something about it that felt hollow and unrealistic. 

Thought that may just be because I couldn't really connect to any of the characters. I guess I liked Lindsey and Sophie okay, but they felt... fluid, like their personalities, likes, dislikes, and interests would change at the author's whim. All the characters felt like that, and that's not really my favorite means of telling a story. But again, I couldn't hate anyone, because they weren't given any traits that I instantly despise. Lindsey is not a martyr mom, Sophie is not an obnoxious teenager, and they both had problems that felt real to some extent, like the mom disapproving of her daughter's boyfriend by projecting on him.

So the thing Stevens has really going for her is her plots. And I admit, she comes up with some really great ones even if she does come across as being a Gillian Flynn-lite writer. The idea behind Still Missing hooked me in to it, and, while this book didn't interest me nearly as much, I still wondered where she would go with it. I wasn't crazy about the twist and thought it was slow-moving, but I think Stevens wanted to take risks and I have to respect that.

I don't think I'll be reading much more from Chevy Stevens, but you never know. She's the kind of writer you read when you don't want to think, and with the week I've had that works. This book was perfectly mediocre.

7 out of 10

The Perfect Stranger by Megan Miranda Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“The bad guy, the one we could only imagine in the mask, in the shadows - it was always closer than we liked to imagine.”- The Perfect Stranger, Megan Miranda

Confronted by a restraining order and the threat of a lawsuit, failed journalist Leah Stevens needs to get out of Boston when she runs into an old friend, Emmy Grey, who has just left a troubled relationship. Emmy proposes they move to rural Pennsylvania, where Leah can get a teaching position and both women can start again. But their new start is threatened when a woman with an eerie resemblance to Leah is assaulted by the lake, and Emmy disappears days later.

Determined to find Emmy, Leah cooperates with Kyle Donovan, a handsome young police officer on the case. As they investigate her friend’s life for clues, Leah begins to wonder: did she ever really know Emmy at all? With no friends, family, or a digital footprint, the police begin to suspect that there is no Emmy Grey. Soon Leah’s credibility is at stake, and she is forced to revisit her past: the article that ruined her career. To save herself, Leah must uncover the truth about Emmy Grey—and along the way, confront her old demons, find out who she can really trust, and clear her own name.

Everyone in this rural Pennsylvanian town has something to hide—including Leah herself. How do you uncover the truth when you are busy hiding your own?

One of the weirdest new trends I've noticed in thrillers is the setting being Western Pennsylvania or at least the Appalachian Mountains. I don't have a problem with this- I couldn't, that's where my dad's side is from- provided there is no air of superiority or snobbishness on the part of the main character. Happily, there is none, or at least very little, of that in this book. 

Another observation- I feel like publishing companies abuse the term "psychological thriller". I rarely find that "psychological thrillers" are actually psychological thrillers, usually they're just straight up mystery-thrillers. When I think of psychological thrillers, I think of The Tell-Tale Heart, or The Blair Witch Project, stories that focus predominantly on the psyche of their characters and work to get into the reader's mind, too. I don't necessarily consider this book to be a psychological thriller by that definition. While Miranda tried to do that to some extent, it didn't really work and as a result just felt like a normal thriller.

But anyway, I picked up The Perfect Stranger mostly because I read one of her YA mysteries- The Safest Lies- and remembered really liking it. I mean, I don't remember anything else about it, but it was one of those books that just sucks you in and by the time you come out of it, the only thing you remember about the story is that it was pretty good. The Perfect Stranger is kind of like that- I was definitely sucked into it- but I remembered more of it and it wasn't as good as The Safest Lies.

I originally wanted to read All the Missing Girls first, but that book was checked out and this book wasn't, so I read it instead. There's nothing in this book as far as I can tell that would spoil or even connect it to All the Missing Girls, so I have no idea why it's billed as a sequel or companion. Maybe someone who has read All the Missing Girls can tell me?

But anyway, the book. The weakest part of the book is probably the prose. It's overwritten, to say the least, like Miranda didn't know when to stop. It's the kind of writing that's really only excusable if the book in question is a) a debut novel or b) if the story and characters are so good it makes up for it. 

So a is out. But what about b? The short answer is no. The long answer is that this is very much a generic thriller novel. Sure, the plot seems interesting based on the inside cover, but Miranda takes the uniqueness out of it and makes it seem like every other thriller novel. She also adds a lot into the book that has nothing to do with the plot, like the story line as to why Leah lost her job. That whole part seemed unnecessary to me, and distracting too.

The characters weren't much more unique, either. Leah was your smart, beautiful, etc etc heroine, who was once a true crime journalist though the way she talks about it you'd think she was a seasoned detective. She goes in depth about studying the cases and digging up leads and being the first on the crime scene and all I can think was "oh, so this is why detectives hate reporters". She reminded me as to why I don't always get along with journalists- a lot of them have this unbearable sense of self-righteousness and seem to think that their job is the most important one in the free world. Like, get over yourself already. This is especially apparent in Leah's obsession with the college case. I don't care if you have your heart in the right place, you don't go to the lengths that she did to get a story. A news article isn't a police investigation, and all she did was ruin people's lives in the process. 

There's also other characters, like a love interest with little chemistry and probably only in there out of some sense of obligation. To what, I don't know. None of the characters are particularly unique.

This also doesn't feel like that realistic a book. It's not unrealistic as books like Kelley Armstrong's Missing, but it's definitely not as ground in reality as some of Tana French's books. 

The Perfect Stranger is a perfectly middle of the road novel. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it all that much either. It didn't make me angry the way Little Deaths did, and I think that definitely helped it. Miranda isn't breaking new ground in thriller land, she's barely even scratching the surface. I doubt I'll pick up another one of her books, but I'm fine with her being on the shelves.

5.5 out of 10