I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid

Since giving birth, I've read the last half of Sold On A Monday, the entirety of The People We Hate at the Wedding, and half of This Is Not Over, and yet I managed to read I'm Thinking Of Ending Things by Iain Reid in exactly two days. And those two days involved the older kids being home from school, and the first drop in temperature and snow storm, virtually stranding them inside the house. I first saw this book - where else? - on Instagram, and when I saw it in Target, I bought it for this tagline alone: "You will be scared. But you won't know why." In my ever-evolving reading career, I've grown to appreciate books with little to no description, and I even find myself steering away from books with overly long and complicated synopses. I'm Thinking of Ending Things lives up to its limited description. You will be scared and you won't know why, and then you will feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The book doesn't offer a synopsis, so I won't either, but that might just be an impossible task, anyway. How do you describe a book like this? This book? It's short and to the point even though there are moments when it feels like the story is getting away from you. It is, at times, overly complicated, but in a way that makes you feel creepily disoriented, like you're walking through a maze of mirrors. It is a scary story, but it also offers insight and epiphanies into the complex function of our brains and our minds, and what it means to be human. It's like those dreams where nothing innately scary happens, but you wake up feeling weird and scared, anyway. Between reading this book and watching The Good Place, my mind has been properly fucked with.

I don't usually read scary stories until this time of year, just like I only read beach-reads in the summer, and I am always hoping that what I choose will be scarier than The Shining, even books deemed, "scary as hell," by King, himself. But nothing has measured up to The Shining, not even Pet Sematary, which is scary for an entirely different reason altogether. I'm Thinking of Ending Things definitely keeps you guessing and keeps the pages turning; there is no way you won't want to know the conclusion, until you do, and then you kind of wish you didn't.

In my limited knowledge of triggers, I believe the end of this novel is one. BUT, I can't tell you what the trigger is without spoiling not just the ending, but the entire book as well. The end isn't exactly unexpected, but it is disturbing, and I honestly don't know how I would be able to watch the Netflix movie after having read the book. Well, ok...I am slightly curious...maybe tomorrow as it continues to snow...⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE $5.00 Like New.                     

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Sold on a Monday

A Stranger in the House by Shari Lapena

Domestic psychological thrillers are obviously nothing new, but with the seemingly simultaneous launch of Gone Girl and social media - and using social media as the new word-of-mouth - the authors of these novels have started to become even more well-known than King, Grisham, and Patterson. A common theme throughout Breanne's Bookshelf is, in fact, Instagram-popular authors, so that is how I came to read The Couple Next Door by Shari Lapena and how, even though I was grossly disappointed and unimpressed by the book, I learn about every subsequent novel she has published since. I'm too wary to purchase one at full-price, but when I came across A Stranger in the House at a book sale and read the synopsis, I felt it was worth a shot, and - praise the book gods - it was.

In what is quickly becoming cliche, Karen is your typical housewife (though that seems pretty indefinable these days), without so much as a parking ticket to her name. As she prepares dinner one night for her and her husband of just two years, the phone rings. It's a call she always expected to get but hoped never would, and in a flash, she's left the house, leaving behind her phone and purse, and without locking the door. The next thing she knows, Karen is in the hospital after slamming her car into a telephone pole in a rough New York neighborhood that she's never been to before. To add suspicion to injury, Karen can't remember what she was doing there in the first place, what happened before the accident, and why.

The story is mysterious enough to capture my interest throughout the first half of the book, but after that, the shocking twist - the Big Reveal - is mostly that I've abruptly turned to reading for the last page, as that is the next most interesting thing to happen. Up until the very last chapter, the story and characters don't extend beyond what we're so used to in pretty much all domestic psychological thrillers these days.

A Stranger in the House is written well enough, it's a quick read that will provide you a moment of fictitious escape, or - like it did for me - make you want to (re)watch Desperate Housewives. Does anyone else just *love* Brigid?! 🤩 And even though I did enjoy - and am surprised by - the twist that comes in the last chapter, it also left me a little disappointed and gypped; what an underdeveloped character Karen turns out to be! I came to realize, as I closed the book, that she could have been a lot more dynamic, dimensional, and interesting, which is why I gave it ⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

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The Man from Primrose Lane by James Renner

I don't even know where to begin with this book. So I will start by saying that I have no idea where to begin in reviewing this book. I suppose I will start at the end and declare up-front that I gave the first two-thirds of this book 3.5 stars and the last third one star, basically for the effort of putting pen to paper. Though I have been disappointed by books in the past, could see the shocking twist from a mile away, or was generally underwhelmed, I have never been completely let down by a book before; like a roller coaster that is wild and crazy and unexpected and then suddenly turns into the Lazy River meets Terminator 2.

David Neff is a successful true crimes writer and one-time author who is taking care of his four-year old son while still reeling from his wife's sudden suicide. On a tip from his publisher, who has always been anxious for Neff's next work, David immerses himself in the random, yet gruesome, murder of an old man, The Man from Primrose Lane. Others knew him as The Man With a Thousand Mittens. Who was he? Why would anyone want him dead? And why did he always wear mittens? These are questions you either won't get answers to, or will have to find like the needle in the completely not-worth-it haystack. A big swing and a miss with this one.

The story of The Man from Primrose Lane is so intricate and mysterious and just twisted enough to make you feel like you're navigating a big spider's web while still making you feel like you have a good handle on the situation, a sign of a well-written thriller. There are a lot of twists and turns that keep you turning the page, and although triggers abound - abduction, pedophilia, torture - I am able to look past the sometimes gruesome nature of the storytelling in order to get to the real root of the story: who was The Man from Primrose Lane and who murdered him? The book is engrossing and unsettling, then suddenly takes a very unexpected move and turns into a hundred-page orgasm that never happens and slowly, confusedly, fizzles away, and if that isn't a let-down, I don't know what is.

Renner seems to work very hard in putting the story together, creating the vivid characters, their histories, and how they connect to one another. He threw in a murder and added some extra mystery then just sort-of chucked it to the four winds. In a drastically over-complicated section, Renner heaves his deviously plotted murder mystery into the arms of an entirely too easy explanation. SPOILER ALERT: 

time travel. Well, fuck if every complicated problem can't be just explained away with a little time travel. *eye roll* Although the explanation of which is convoluted and elaborate, the "solving" of the murder by using time travel makes the story too easy and stupid and more like Renner is applying for a job with Tesla instead of working to find a more credible solution. I skimmed the final section, all while thinking, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid; so stupid that I can't even decide if it was a waste of time. Any other book about murder or time travel would probably be better.

Final rating ⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

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Good Morning, Midnight by Lily Brooks-Dalton

During these often bleak and always confusing times, it feels crass to theme-read. Then again, it is at precisely these moments when we can really benefit from the empathetic value of reading someone else's story, fictional or not. Reading others' situations or perspectives can help us better understand our own situations and perspectives, which is why I was particularly drawn to Lily Brooks-Dalton's short novel, Good Morning, Midnight. In all the bibliophilic blaspheme, I picked up the book solely based on the cover, but the synopsis is what made me plunk down the money and buy it.

Dedicated researcher, Augustine, is nearing the end of his work and the end of his life when he decides to ignore evacuation orders from the Arctic due to some cataclysmic event in the developed world. Knowing he will die there, alone, he is wrapping up his work when he discovers a little girl named Iris among the gear, and suddenly his perspective is shifted. 

Sully - short for Sullivan - is aboard the first space mission to Jupiter and, with her crew, is headed home to an Earth they haven't received communication from in over year. What unfolds is a melodic, profound, existential look into the personal lives we lead and how an uncertain crisis can help us better understand ourselves, for better or worse.

If you're looking for a fast-paced read, or think it will be based on the synopsis, then this is not the book for you. It is a slow-moving 252-page story that - had it been any longer - I probably would have abandoned. The writing is dramatic and meant to be absorbed rather than glossed over, with the main focal points of the story being on how our perspectives are altered in spite of - or because of - even the best-laid plans. Though the story is slow, it is beautiful and lyrical and unexpectedly engrossing, and the crystal-clear imagery both paints the timeless beauty of each different, yet inherently similar, landscape, and is a haunting parallel to each characters' self-imposed isolation.

Although the "cataclysmic event" is rumored to have something to do with war, it is difficult not to draw immediate similarities to what is going on in our current world. Brooks-Dalton perfectly encapsulates the fear and confusion and hope and unexplainable calm yet deep uncertainty that we are all currently grappling with during our own self-imposed isolation. In another way, it is also a good example of the struggles we are having with solitary as well as group isolation. And Good Morning, Midnight really makes the effort to underscore the reasons we feel the need to complain about our current circumstances, both in the importance of having a task to perform, work to do - as in Sully's case - as well as having something or someone besides ourselves to take care of - as in Augustine's.

Good Morning, Midnight really is a great book, though the reflection of current events might not be some readers' cup up tea. And while I am glad the book isn't any longer, there is a particular aspect of the ending that some readers may find frustrating, though this book is most definitely not supposed to be centered around the apocalypse. ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

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Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty

Of the Liane Moriarty books I've read, I'm about 50/50. I loved The Hypnotist's Love Story and Big Little Lies, but I did not enjoy My Husband's Secret or Truly, Madly, Guilty. Each story she creates is so intriguing and intricate that each book needs to be taken independent from the others, unlike some authors who disappoint you once, shame on them; disappoint you twice, shame on you, and aren't worth going back to. After reading her latest, Nine Perfect Strangers, Moriarty proves she is an author worth your attention and effort.

Each for their own personal and confidential reasons, nine strangers arrive at a remote Australian health resort prepared for what is promised to be "transformative." Run by an enigmatic, beautiful, former Corporate Executive who was inspired to start Tranquilliam House after her brush with death, things start out as normal as possible for a remote health resort - massages, Yoga, meditation, smoothies, no technology, etc. Suddenly, during a moonlight meditation, things turn kooky, and then just plain crazy. You, the Reader, quite honestly cannot guess what will happen next.

This story is creative and compassionate, even as it underscores the snap judgments we make about strangers for the sole purpose of unburdening ourselves of our own insecurities, complete with cute nicknames like Loony Woman and Serial Killer. The book jacket boasts that you "will laugh and gasp" and that is most definitely true. Nine Perfect Strangers is unexpected and nutty with a charismatic cast of characters who are witty and interesting with just the right amount of drama to perfectly reflect...life. The writing is clear and jocular, dramatic fun that is not overly horrifying but still gives you pause. Definitely one of Moriarty's better novels, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.  

Maestra by L.S. Hilton

Well, this novel definitely falls into the I Don't Know What The Fuck I Just Read category. Maestra by L.S. Hilton gave me some very conflicting thoughts, not unlike the book itself; it's Fifty Shades of Grey without the whiny Anastasia, and Nancy Drew with extra naughty. And if there is one thing the book taught me, it's to never underestimate the underling.

Judith is a put-upon art house assistant whose talents are grossly overlooked and taken advantage of. When she accidentally discovers an impending heist, Judith sets off on a European tour that would make even the Hilton sisters green with envy (and scream from all of the spanking).

Maestra starts out interesting enough, though the uncovering of the heist is a bit confusing. It helps that Judith's work and her obvious display of intelligence are interspersed with erotic sex scenes with strangers who also happen to swim in the same circles, which is just the beginning of the various contradictions. 

Then Judith seems to put her Nancy Drew routine on hold while she high-end hooks from the French Riviera to Geneva. The book synopsis will have you believe that Judith sets out to reclaim what is rightfully her's when it's really more of something falling into her lap and she is just selfish enough to go after it. The story is empowering though degrading, overly complicated yet too easy, glamorous but trashy, and classy yet sleazy. The writing is pretentious and elitist even though Hilton has a proclivity for the word "cunt," and although Judith - as well as the book - scoffs at the idea that a woman embracing her sexuality is a result of trauma, she still peppers the story with snippets of Judith's violent childhood. Aside from that, we never get to know anything about Judith besides her fashion choices and how wet her pussy gets.

The writing - unlike the inside of Judith, apparently - is not smooth or fluid, and although Hilton obviously has a very broad vocabulary, it doesn't extend to her sex scenes. And what Judith makes look easy, Hilton over-complicates with her list of geographical places in lieu of any imagery.

Maestra is definite superficial erotic escapism in the way that is totally unreal and unbelievable. And even though Romance novels are always outside the realms of reality, I feel duped with this book for some reason; the execution just missed the mark. I won't rush out to the bookstore to continue the trilogy, but I won't turn it down if I happen across Domina at the Dollar Tree.

⭐⭐/goodreads CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE 

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Mercy House by Alena Dillon

A very lovely lady, who said she enjoyed my reviews 😁, messaged me to recommend Mercy House by Alena Dillon, a recently published read that I might have overlooked had it not been for this fellow book-minded individual, even though Amy Schumer praised it as, "...the book we've been waiting for." The story is intriguing and captivating, if not angering, though I wouldn't agree that this is the book we've been waiting for, so much as the book that has existed for thousands of years that we've done a stellar job of ignoring.

In an unassuming row house in Brooklyn, with a most unassuming angel doorknocker, is Mercy House. Run by Catholic nuns, the house offers a safe haven and rehabilitation to women escaping otherwise violent home-lives. In a twist of all-to-real irony, Mercy House, and those like it, are being investigated by the Catholic Church in order to make sure that their activities are in-line with Catholic doctrine, and the Bishop investigating Mercy House just happens to be a man with whom Evelyn - the head nun - shares a dark history. Both in a battle with her own anger and self-inflicted guilt, Evelyn and her ragtag team of nuns and House residents will work to save not only Mercy House, but themselves in this fast-paced, empowering novel that is sure to spark raw emotions and deep discussions.

Mercy House is a difficult story, both in the tales of violence as well as in the learning of it, and Dillon handles the complex issue of abuse with grace and aplomb. Her writing conveys the horrors within the Catholic walls without being overly traumatic in the telling, and she is able to stir just the right amount of emotion, which is ignited even further by her research. Though a fictional tale with fictional characters, Dillon draws upon several real stories, which is, ultimately, the heart-breaker.

I can't say I "enjoyed" this book because it tackles some very unfortunate subject matters, but Dillon tells a remarkable, important story. The only thing, really, that kept me from giving it five stars on Goodreads is that I feel there could have been a broader spectrum of ways in which a person - women - can be abused and victimized by others - men. There is a lot of what we're used to hearing about regarding the underbelly of the Catholic Church, but not really anything different, and, unfortunately, there is more than one way to skin a cat.

Though I am not Catholic - or religious by any measure of the word besides believing in God - Mercy House is surprisingly relatable. It is also very entertaining and empowering and not just to women, but to anyone who has been made to feel like their love and service to others is a sin.

⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. CLICK HERE TO BUY. $5.00 NEW CONDITION

The Chain by Adrian McKinty

Once again I caved to the social media frenzy and excitedly snatched up The Chain by Adrian McKinty from the library even though I swore I wouldn't check out any more books for a while so I could stay focused on my 300-deep to-be-read shelves. Let me just say, breaking my self-imposed rule, and the subsequent library late-fees, was...not worth it.

"Grips you tight, right from the start, and mercilessly refuses to let go. One wild ride," is my very first note on this book after I was undoubtedly sucked in by the first two chapters; that's what books are supposed to do, after all - get us hooked from the beginning. Unfortunately, The Chain grips you tight, doesn't let go, and drags you through a slow, character-driven plot that is more an attempt at a philosophical explanation of life than a propulsive thriller.

The Chain - believed to be hundreds of years old - is quite possibly the worst thing to happen to a parent. Their child is kidnapped and the only way to get them returned safely is for those parents to pay the ransom, kidnap another child, and be prepared to commit murder if anything goes wrong. The Chain studies their "participants" and Rachel Klein seems to fit the bill. Newly divorced, new job, and a cancer survivor, The Chain believes she's just strong enough to carry out their heinous demands, but just pliable enough to avoid going to the police, and to do whatever they say. The book jacket would have you believe that she is a strong-as-a-motha, mama Grizzly type who will stop at nothing to get her daughter, Kylie, back safely, while dismantling The Chain, which is, unfortunately, misleading. What is actually true is that McKinty's novel is slow, dramatic, and ultimately a poor attempt at existentialism where Rachel's "take down" of The Chain feels forced.

The premise - the very idea of the book - is enough to keep you reading, so where you would expect the book to be plot-driven, it mostly focuses on the characters and their basic emotional well-being during the time that Kylie is missing and after she is returned. The set-up for the major "twist" is unfortunate and weak, and in spite of the book being very wordy, the writing is choppy and comes off lazy; case in point, no one who isn't from Massachusetts and the surrounding area will care about the random list of street names. And the ending is an attempt at Dennis Lehane-esque waxing poetic that mostly misses the mark, like when my high school English teacher would call me out on my bullshit.

I will say, though, that The Chain is an eye-opening account of Social Media, the dark ways in which it is used that we hear about on the news but think it will never actually happen to us, and makes us re-examine if we're really being as social media safe as we should be. Posting our every move and thought is not only annoying, it's dangerous. So, more for the public service announcement than anything else, I give The Chain ⭐/5 on goodreads.

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

My need to seasonal read reared it's ugly head again when I snatched Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys from my bookshelf, a book I had bought for cheap at one of the many book sales I manage to find around this small city. About the little-known ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff, and its little-known tragic end, Salt to the Sea is a Young Adult novel for everyone; a must-read of the World War II genre.

In the winter of 1945, the forces of evil - Stalin and Hitler - fought each other, with the innocent civilian bystanders footing the bill. Being squeezed from their countries, hundreds of thousands of refugees made their way to ships that held promises of freedom and an end to the horrors they were previously forced to endure. Florian, Emilia, Alfred, Joana, the Shoe Poet, and the Wandering Boy who suddenly emerges from the forest, are among them, each sharing the one commonality of war: secrets, with a little bit of hope.

The gaining of passage on the Wilhelm Gustloff is dramatic in and of itself, and Sepetys marvelously handles the atrocities of war - WWII in particular - by not over-horrifying events, but not sugar-coating or glossing over them, either; being able to touch at the heart of why war will never bring true peace. She offers many points of view to consider, even though they may not be particularly agreeable, creating the ability to spark constructive discussions about characters and what leads them to make their specific choices. I would love to be a fly on the wall as this book is discussed by a high school English class, or - heck! - even lead a discussion myself.

Salt to the Sea is hefty, both in size and subject matter, but is able to quickly suck you in. It is an exceptionally well-written, beautifully heartbreaking novel that is important to both history and storytelling. I will definitely be reading her other novels.

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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

Winter in Paradise by Elin Hilderbrand

I never considered myself to be particularly particular when it comes to my habit of seasonal reading. That is, until I started making more of an effort to find winter-related and/or set-in-winter novels to read during...wait for it...winter. As I looked around, it became apparent that while summer seemed to be a character in and of itself, winter was merely something that occurred alongside the story line.

I found Elin Hilderbrand's Winter in Paradise during one of my many trips to the book section of Walmart and - armed with a Christmas gift card burning a hole in my wallet - decided to see if Hilderbrand can be to winter what she is to summer. Given my detest for her Winter Series, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I ultimately enjoyed Winter in Paradise, and how I am actually looking forward to the next in this new series, What Happens in Paradise.

Irene Steele lives a seemingly idyllic life in Iowa City. Her husband adores her to sky-writing proportions, her perfect house has been perfectly designed by her, and her grown sons are off thriving with families, jobs, and hobbies of their own. Then, on New Years Day, her world comes crashing down along with the helicopter that held her husband, Russ, the pilot, and a local woman. Adding confusion to heartbreak, Russ's helicopter crashed in the Virgin Islands, miles from where he was supposed to be. What was he doing there? Who was the local woman, and why was she with Russ that fateful day? Irene and her sons begin to unravel the mystery surrounding their husband and father, while piling on some mysteries and secrets of their own. Hilderbrand's shift from Nantucket summers to St. John's winters takes us on a dramatic, emotional, and cliched journey that is inexplicably intriguing with sharp characters who are surprisingly relatable.

Quickly written, with a plot that sucks you in despite not being anything more extraordinary than your basic Soap Opera, the story is compulsive and voyeuristic, and the imagery is nothing short of exquisite. Winter in Paradise is the perfect read for sitting on the beaches of St. John's yourself, or if you're snuggled up in your snowbound chalet, dreaming of a tropical paradise. Either way, you'll never want to leave.

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⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware

What I once actively gravitated towards, and even went so far as to contemplate purchasing at what Costco and Wal-Mart consider "full-price," has now made me approach with trepidation; the newest Ruth Ware novel used to illicit a certain amount of readers' excitement from me but now just makes me want to read something else. Mysterious, overly-dramatic, and often with imagery that is a character all its own, what has promise of a decent premise is often overly padded with fluff then abruptly ended in an obscure, slightly disturbing way (*cough* The Lying Game *cough*). Ware's latest tale, The Turn of the Key, isn't as gross or as boring, but finding the point is an exhausting process.

Rowan Caine becomes the latest in a string of nannies to be hired for Heatherbrae House, taken in by the lush remote Scottish countryside and mountain views, the Smart house technology that puts everything at ones' fingertips, and the charming, though shy, little girls that are to be her charges. She quickly learns that four nannies before her have cut and run after they were taken in by all of the amenities, as well as the rumors of the mansion's supposed paranormal activity. The luster from Rowan's interview quickly turns sour as she's left alone on her first day for no less than two weeks, the girls turn nasty, and the pre-teen away at boarding school returns to wreck havoc. And now she's hearing footsteps pacing in the boarded-up attic above her bedroom.

What is, apparently, a retelling of The Turn of the Screw, Ware's The Turn of the Key is a modern take on ghost stories, replacing the ghouls and goblins of the childhood of yore with the legitimate fears of today's omnipresent technology. Ware bluntly underscores how the shine of new and innovative technology wears off pretty quickly. But as a story, the book is long and ultimately fruitless with some spooky moments peppered throughout what is mostly misadventures in babysitting, and gets a little Lifetime movie-ish. There is also an inordinate amount of focus on the architecture of the house, which does add an interestingly creepy element to the story, but with that amount of attention given to it, it's never really explained why. The ending does offer up some good surprises, though the second-to-last scene is a little obscure; it took me a minute to "get," you might need the collective brains of your book club to enlighten everyone.

The Turn of the Key is a perfectly fine read, though not particularly scary or interesting. ⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. 

The Whisper Man by Alex North

I usually save scary, or scary-type books, until Halloween time but I am only just slightly aware of the Instagram popularity of The Whisper Man by Alex North (*eye roll*) to snatch up a copy when it became available at my local library. And it's most likely because of this popularity that I read and stuck with the book, as I tend to avoid stories that in any way involve children. But The Whisper Man slowly sucks you in and gets under your skin; it's scary without being gory, and creepy without losing a strong theme of humanity.

Tom and his young son, Jake, move to quiet Featherbank in hopes of moving on after the sudden death of Tom's wife, Rebecca. Unaware of the town's unfortunate history - being home to serial abductor and murderer, Frank Carter - Tom and Jake's supposed fresh start is short lived. Right away, a little boy goes missing, igniting rumors that Carter had an accomplice, and then Jake starts hearing whispers at his window...

This book is definitely scary, and if children are one of your triggers, you might want to really think about if you want to read this story. It is very reminiscent of Stephen King in several ways - the element of alcohol abuse, the struggling writer character, the child who talks to invisible children and uses creepy phrases like, "the boy in the floor," and, most importantly, the delicate weaving of the childhood monsters under our bed and the unfortunate monsters of real life. But what it differs from King is probably what makes is such a great read. Though it is a blunt and often shocking portrayal of the tumultuous relationship between fathers and sons, what is at first scary becomes sweet and sentimental.

The Whisper Man is intense and gripping. It is creepy, mysterious, extremely well-written and intricately plotted, and makes your brain turn as fast as the pages. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing

It seems like the only books these days are psychological thrillers and self-help celebrity tell-alls so, if you're like me, it's gotten more challenging to find a domestic noir novel that is interesting, well-told, and offers the requisite surprises. Nothing will shock me like The Burning Air, so I've given up there, and I've gotten to the point where I roll my eyes every time I see an advance praise that includes the words, "fans," "Gone Girl," and, "love," so I was pleasantly surprised when I found that Samantha Downing's My Lovely Wife contains none of these. It isn't the best murder mystery I've ever read, then again none of them are, earning just four out of five stars on Goodreads from your's truly. But I have definitely read worse (*cough* The Couple Next Door *cough*). Dark, disturbing, emotional, and dramatic, My Lovely Wife is an unputdownable book that makes you feel like you know everything, and nothing at all.

Millicent and her husband are the epitome of Middle Class; living in a home they can't afford, paying private school tuition they don't need, and murdering random people simply for the fun of it (like we all haven't thought about it at least once). What started as an act of self-defense, slowly morphs into murder for pleasure and an unlikely bonding exercise for the married parents of two attitude-riddled teenagers. The story is sexy and seductive, and manipulative and twisted, and definitely makes you wonder if all of the new people you've met in the last year were actually trying to decide if you fit a serial killer's victim profile.

I enjoyed the way in which the book is written, appreciating the one perspective of the husband throughout the story, though he sometimes comes off as a bit of a wank. The Owen letters are a bit too cheesy, and make things just a little too easy and cynical. While I agree with Downings portrayal of the information super-highway and the subsequent trial in the court of public opinion, in this day and age especially, we are more prone to suspicion than simply believing what we are told. So while it was an interesting element to the story, it doesn't make the mystery any better or worse. In that regard, the Big Surprise isn't all that shocking, but all of the mini-surprises that prop up the larger one, aided by quick, succinct chapters, are what keep the pages turning. I definitely could not put down My Lovely Wife. ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.