The Teacher's Funeral by Richard Peck Review (Kinda)

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Why she hankered to be a teacher, I couldn't tell you. But she had chalk dust in her veins, and she deserved to get that certificate. It was only fair.”- The Teacher's Funeral, Richard Peck

In 1904, Russell Culver 15 wants to leave school and his tiny Indiana farm town for the endless sky of the Dakotas. Instead of school closing, leaving him free to roam, his sister Tansy steps in. Despite stolen supplies, a privy fire, and many snakes, Tansy maybe, just maybe, can set her brother on a wiser course.

I thank three things for my love of history. Well, technically four- you know, the teachers that inspired me and blah blah blah. But mostly three things- American Girl, children's picture books, and Richard Peck. Unsurprisingly, they all have to do with books- I read Felicity's and Samantha's stories cover to cover, including the wonderful notes in the back that had all the historical facts, I loved those If You Lived... books (especially the parts about fashion), and I first fell in love with Richard Peck's writing when I was 10 years old and we were assigned The Teacher's Funeral. Prior to The Teacher's Funeral, I had always associated historical fiction with those musty smelling clearly 70s books you can find in the back of classroom bookcases or school assigned Very Important Books like Maniac McGee or Number the Stars or Bud Not Buddy (disclaimer: I actually like or at least don't hate the books I listed here). Sure, there were exceptions, like Catherine Called Birdy but I prefer to pretend that book doesn't exist. But The Teacher's Funeral didn't seem to have an obvious message attached, and was funny and dark and really, just a nice little story about growing up at the Turn of the Century in Indiana. And I loved it.

Looking back, The Teacher's Funeral is probably responsible for the kind of historical fiction I gravitate towards. I like often quiet and meandering stories about growing up in a time so different than our own. And I was delighted to find that all of Richard Peck's books were like that- my favorites were always A Long Way From Chicago and A Year Down Yonder, (God, even the titles take me back!) about a pair of kids whose parents send them down to their grandmother's farm from Chicago in the 30s. 

The best thing about The Teacher's Funeral is that there is no message. Well, I suppose it can be taken as being about the importance of education, but other than that it doesn't try and hit you over the head with anything. It's a coming of age story, I suppose, but it's not one like The Outsiders (another favorite from those late elementary/early middle school years). There is no giant life changing event, instead, it's a quiet one. 

And it's funny too. I was pleasantly surprised, given that I thought at first it would be full of cheap kid jokes. Instead, I found myself genuinely laughing out loud at some points and- what's more- I finally got some jokes that I didn't really understand as a child, like the cut-short swear words (I was an oddly naive little girl, especially given that neither of my parents ever censored themselves). 

I never read all of Richard Peck's books but he had a huge impact on my reading life nevertheless. I know that a majority of this review may just be nostalgia glasses, but I can't help it. No wonder this was one of my favorite books as a child. Also? That ending makes me want to cry. It made me want to cry all those years ago and it makes me want to cry today.

9 out of 10

Shallow Graves by Maureen Boyle Review

Eleven women went missing over the spring and summer of 1988 in New Bedford, Massachusetts, an old fishing port known as the Whaling City, where Moby Dick, Frederick Douglass, textile mills, and heroin-dealing represent just a few of the many threads in the community's diverse fabric. In Shallow Graves, investigative reporter Maureen Boyle tells the story of a case that has haunted New England for thirty years.

The Crimes: The skeletal remains of nine of the women, aged nineteen to thirty-six, were discovered near highways around New Bedford. Some had clearly been strangled, others were so badly decomposed that police were left to guess how they had died.

The Victims: All the missing women had led troubled lives of drug addiction, prostitution, and domestic violence, including Nancy Paiva, whose sister was a hard-working employee of the City of New Bedford, and Debra Greenlaw DeMello, who came from a solidly middle-class family but fell into drugs and abusive relationships. In a bizarre twist, Paiva's clothes were found near DeMello's body.

The Investigators: Massachusetts state troopers Maryann Dill and Jose Gonsalves were the two constants in a complex cast of city, county, and state cops and prosecutors. They knew the victims, the suspects, and the drug-and-crime-riddled streets of New Bedford. They were present at the beginning of the case and they stayed to the bitter end.

The Suspects: Kenneth Ponte, a New Bedford attorney and deputy sheriff with an appetite for drugs and prostitutes, landed in the investigative crosshairs from the start. He was indicted by a grand jury in the murder of one of the victims, but those charges were later dropped. Anthony DeGrazia was a loner who appeared to fit the classic serial-killer profile: horrific childhood abuse, charming, charismatic, but prone to bursts of violence. He hunted prostitutes in the city by night and served at a Catholic church by day. Which of these two was the real killer? Or was it someone else entirely?

Maureen Boyle first broke the story in 1988 and stayed with it for decades. In Shallow Graves she spins a riveting narrative about the crimes, the victims, the hunt for the killers, and the search for justice, all played out against the backdrop of an increasingly impoverished community beset by drugs and crime. Drawing on more than one hundred interviews, along with police reports, first-person accounts, and field reporting both during the killings and more recently, Shallow Graves brings the reader behind the scenes of the investigation, onto the streets of the city, and into the homes of the families still hoping for answers.

I read a lot of true crime books, and yet most of the true crime stories I end up picking up take place in the past and are usually combined with historical elements- books like The Devil in the White City, or one I read this summer, City of Light, City of Poison. This is different, as it is only under the true crime label, being about a serial killer targeting drug-addicted women, usually prostitutes, in New Bedford Massachusetts, a quiet little seaside city populated mostly by, like many Southern New England fishing cities, people of Portuguese descent. You get a lot of those ethnic pockets of people in New England, usually from countries you don't think too much about like Portugal or Greece or Poland or even Italy. 

Well, I suppose it's not exactly only a true crime book since it is during the 80s, and there is some context about the time period that needs to be understood. Most people think of cocaine as the rock star drug of the decade, taking LSD's place before it was usurped by ecstasy in the 90s, but the heroin epidemic really started to get bad in the 80s, unfortunately coinciding with the AIDS crisis, as any ER nurse or doctor active in that time period will tell you. Like in today's society, when pain pill addiction progresses to heroin addiction, in the 80s it was cocaine addiction progressing to heroin addiction. And those where the women our killer chose his victims from.

Shallow Graves is written like a mystery novel is, especially the prologue. In fact, the prologue is what lured me in to the book. I wasn't sure if I would like it- I wasn't too crazy about the synopsis- but I decided to read it many because, again, the first page and also because it was short and I wanted to at least make my average for this month. 

Like in the case for many nonfiction novels, I don't really know what to say about it except that I liked it. It was okay, not my favorite nonfiction book I've read this year, but I'm happy I read it. Just a warning though, the ending is a little... unsatisfactory, to say the least, but I enjoyed Shallow Graves enough to recommend it to any causal and more serious true crime fan alike.

8 out of 10

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

A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“What she wants most - what she truly yearns for - is what any of us want: to be seen.”- A Piece of the World, Christina Baker Kline

"Later he told me that he’d been afraid to show me the painting. He thought I wouldn’t like the way he portrayed me: dragging myself across the field, fingers clutching dirt, my legs twisted behind. The arid moonscape of wheatgrass and timothy. That dilapidated house in the distance, looming up like a secret that won’t stay hidden." 

To Christina Olson, the entire world was her family’s remote farm in the small coastal town of Cushing, Maine. Born in the home her family had lived in for generations, and increasingly incapacitated by illness, Christina seemed destined for a small life. Instead, for more than twenty years, she was host and inspiration for the artist Andrew Wyeth, and became the subject of one of the best known American paintings of the twentieth century.

As she did in her beloved smash bestseller Orphan Train, Christina Baker Kline interweaves fact and fiction in a powerful novel that illuminates a little-known part of America’s history. Bringing into focus the flesh-and-blood woman behind the portrait, she vividly imagines the life of a woman with a complicated relationship to her family and her past, and a special bond with one of our greatest modern artists.

Told in evocative and lucid prose, A Piece of the World is a story about the burdens and blessings of family history, and how artist and muse can come together to forge a new and timeless legacy.

Living close to New York City, I've been to the Museum of Modern Art more times than I can count, often with my sister. While she's always been more interested in the contemporary exhibits, I prefer the older art on the top floors. And I always make a stop by Christina's World, even though it's admittedly to visit Hopper's House by the Railroad which is right next to it since he's my favorite painter (if you can't tell by my profile pic). Still, Christina's World holds a special place in my heart because there's just something about it I love. The girl in the middle of the field, staring up at the house and barn, that being her whole world, it kind of makes me ache a little. Wyeth's not one of my favorite painters, but I like the bleak New England scenes he paints. They're very American Gothic, which I love.

A Piece of the World attempts to lend a voice to Christina Olsen, the woman in the painting, which admittedly was not something that appealed to me very much. I've never been that in to books that endeavor to "find the woman behind the famous painting"; it's the same reason why I've never read The Girl With the Pearl Earring. I don't really want to read a fictionalized biography about Madame X or Mona Lisa, because I'm content with coming up with my own ideas as to who they were and, if I'm still curious, I'll read an actual factual source. And yet, I picked up A Piece of the World because it seemed interesting and I wanted some historical fiction, dammit. 

No, I have not read The Orphan Train and I probably never will because I'm sick of WWII historical fiction, dammit, and I know that it will be another The Nightingale knockoff and I don't have the energy for that right now. But I tried not to let that stop me form reading this book.

It's definitely a women's lit historical fiction popularized by the likes of Kristin Hannah, who isn't very interesting to me. Still, Kline has real talent, and I liked a lot of her prose, especially the ending and beginning. The book promises so much, intrigue, the ocean, witches, a book so quintessentially New England it practically smells the the seaside. Which I love, because, hey, New Englander here, and proud of it (except in sports, then I'm New York all the way). Does the book deliver?

Eh, kind of. The beautiful prose isn't really constant throughout the whole book, and I wished that, instead of time jumping, Kline went with a more traditional straightforward narrative. But that's just me, I don't really like that as a narrative device, I rarely even like it when historical fiction novels have a chapter or two that take place in present time.

There's also very little about witches or the sea. Instead, it focuses more on women's issues during the time, like finding a man or the fear of becoming a spinster, things I can't really say appeal to me all that much in historical fiction. Still, it paints a very vivid picture as to who the author thinks Christina was, which basically amounted to a bitter, lonely old spinster who never was allowed to be anything. There are a few obviously author-inserted bits, like her love of Emily Dickinson is clearly because Kline was reading a lot of Emily Dickinson and thought the two things connected quite well, and the half-baked bits about Sadie Hamm or Bacon or whatever her last name is being her friend, as well as Walton and her relationship with her nephew. Too much time was devoted to Walton, not enough in making Christina's other relationships feel real.

The big question is, does this ruin Christina's World for me? I guess not. I don't have a new respect for either the painting or the girl in the painting; I still like the painting just as much as I did prior to reading the book. I don't regret reading A Piece of the World, as I did like the writing and the portrayal of the Maine seaside, even if I did think it could have been better than it was. All in all, this was a solid book. 

7.5 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 Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“If there is one thing I've learned in more than seven decades of life, it's that the world is a completely fucked-up place. You never know what's around the corner and it's often something unpleasant.”- The Heart's Invisible Furies, John Boyne

Cyril Avery is not a real Avery -- or at least, that's what his adoptive parents tell him. And he never will be. But if he isn't a real Avery, then who is he? 

Born out of wedlock to a teenage girl cast out from her rural Irish community and adopted by a well-to-do if eccentric Dublin couple via the intervention of a hunchbacked Redemptorist nun, Cyril is adrift in the world, anchored only tenuously by his heartfelt friendship with the infinitely more glamourous and dangerous Julian Woodbead. At the mercy of fortune and coincidence, he will spend a lifetime coming to know himself and where he came from and over his many years will struggle to discover an identity, a home, a country, and much more.

This should be a book that I would love. It’s the history of a gay man in Ireland, following him through time as he comes to accept himself. And yet, there was something about it I didn’t click with. The biggest problem with this book is that it lacked in subtlety, especially with the development of the characters.

The "good" characters or at least the ones we’re suppose to like are far too obvious for my liking, as are the "bad" characters. Morals are delivered with the blow of a sledgehammer. This isn’t a quiet book by any means, which is likely why it didn’t work for me. I like quiet books, because I hate being lectured at no matter how much I agree with the lecturer and I often felt lectured at in this case. The characters that we are supposed to like are smart and have an air of superiority or have opinions that line up with the main character, whereas the characters that we are supposed to dislike are usually stupid or are the exact opposite of the characters that are likable. It comes across as being very bitter, and I wonder how cathartic the book was to write on the part of the author. I can’t blame him for that, I write to do the same, but I don’t publish my works.

But I don’t know John Boyne personally, so I’m just speculating here. I’ve never even read anything by Boyne, not even The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, but hey, reading this book was one hell of a first impression.

I did like the sense of humor in the book, though. I can’t describe what it reminded me of but it was my kind of humor. My favorite scenes in the book were the ones where Cyril’s adoptive parents showed up, because they were wonderful comic relief. Those scenes really pulled me through the book. 

I also liked how on some level it reminded me of Brideshead Revisited, mostly Cyril trying to have a relationship and marriage with Alice, Julian’s sister, as a replacement for Julian. Ironic when you think about it, especially given how Catholic Brideshead is and how Anti-Catholic this book is. Then again, most people chose to forget just how Catholic Brideshead so that they can focus on the sheer amount of homoerotic subtext and sometimes text-text (depends on how much you read into certain scenes) in the book, to the point where some actually consider it an LGBT book.

I felt nothing towards most of the characters because they felt like characters. Even Cyril never really crossed the line from fictional to realistic for me. And yet, my favorite character, Charles, was the kind of man who could only be a book character, and yet Boyne had so much fun with him that I had to like him. He was definitely more tolerable than some of the other characters, like Catherine, whom I often wanted to punch.

Of all the books I’ve read this year, the book that reminds me of this one the most is Life: An Exploded Diagram. Both books inserted historical elements with the life of their main character to add a unique twist on the coming of age tale, with often humorous elements. I think Life did it better. The humor was warmer, the characters felt like people, not just mouthpieces, whereas in this book they often did. Again, if you must lecture me do it in a way where it doesn’t feel as obvious.

So, I don’t know if I will ever read anything else by John Boyne. It’s pretty safe to say that I probably will never read The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, as if it hasn’t happened by now it probably won’t ever. I didn’t hate this book- it was so long that if I hated it I wouldn’t stick with it- and there is enough good in it that I even liked it at some points. My main complaint about The Heart’s Invisible Furies also isn’t the same complaint a lot of people have with it, which was that it was too long. I gave it some leeway there- it’s a character study taking place over the course of many decades, of course it’s long and slow-moving; though I do agree with the comments stating how built on convenience it is. No, my main complaint is how unsubtle it is. I’m in the minority here and acknowledge it, and honestly I wish I could be one of the five stars reviews. Oh well. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t.

5.5-6 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