My rating: 3 of 5 stars
My least favorite book by this author to date. Read my reviews of Dark Places and Gone Girl, and pick up one of those instead.
This started off like a standard pulp murder mystery. A little dark but interesting, lacking the pretentions of "literature." It could have been a novel by Tess Gerritsen.
Before long, I realized I was dealing with a narrator who cuts. Not just tidy railroad track marks down an arm or a leg, but words. Everywhere. Nonsense words, sex words, insults. On her shoulders, wrists, stomach, thighs. Words that itch or glow or vibrate or something whenever she feels emotion. Maybe that's metaphor, or maybe it's just weird.
|Photocredit www.ambergristoday.com. Shudder.|
|Photocredit www.bracesquestions.com. (The answer is yes.)|
The narrator also does drugs -- Oxycontin and Ecstasy -- with her thirteen-year-old sister, and there may or may not be vaguely sexual implications. Maybe that's metaphor, or... nope, that's creepy and definitely weird. I think this was the low point for me; I fervently hoped no one was reading over my shoulder on the subway and wondering what kind of pervert I was.
|I suspect Gillian Flynn may have watched this movie multiple times while writing.|
Basically, this book made me uncomfortable, and the discomfort didn't seem to be in the service of anything except adding edginess to an otherwise fairly typical murder mystery. Was it reasonably well written? Yes. Did it have unique characters? Yes. Worth it? Not for me.