★★

St. Martin’s Press | 2017

Filed Under: Can’t a person just sit in their car without being murdered anymore?

I’m pretty sure me and B.A. Paris should break up.

I read and mostly enjoyed Behind Closed Doors, but I was not over the moon about it like most other reviewers were. Even now, when I think back on that reading experience the only things I remember are that 1) the main character was super annoying and 2) it’s totally ridiculous to believe that a high-powered attorney who works 60+ hour weeks on huge cases, would also have enough time to be that on the fucking nose when it came to keeping his wife hostage.

You don’t want the things a reader remembers about your book to be just the illogical, annoying bits. But then again, I’m a total bitch.

With that said, The Breakdown might be the end of me reading this author’s work.

B.A. Paris seems to have a habit of writing the most annoying female main characters – clueless, meek and insecure – who are married to the most obviously untrustworthy men. I can’t be the only one who is seeing the perfect, loving and thoughtful husband routine as completely shady? Maybe it’s because I’m no stranger to shitty men who do a really good job of tricking you. Even the most romantic of men are not going to be perfect. If they are, they are trying to bamboozle you, bitch!

Basically what we’ve got here is the MC, Cass, driving home one evening on a dark, twisty shortcut that is secluded, because of course it is. On her way, she sees a car parked with a woman inside. She considers checking if the woman needs help, but decides it’s too scary and dark and will call the police from home about the woman simply chillin’ in her car. As you would.

The next day, that woman is dead. Not just dead, murdered!

“That was us at the beginning of our fairytale. But here’s the thing about fairytales: sometimes they’re darker than you can ever imagine.”

★★

Quercus | 2018

Filed Under: I guess anything can be called a thriller these days.

I don’t think I’ve ever read a “thriller” this uneventful before. And by that I mean, it’s like the author wasn’t even trying. For real, this was slowwwwwwwww.

I’m in the minority with my opinion and that’s fine. But my opinion is the right one. HAHAHA just kidding (kind of.)

The Confession by Jo Spain is billed as a dark thriller, but it’s really more of a depressing autobiography of the main characters, whose switching POVs we have to endure get to experience; how they got to that moment in 2012 when a banker is getting his head bashed in by a stranger with a golf club. These POVs take us all the way back to childhood in some cases, and quite honestly it was tedious as hell and in most cases, completely fucking irrelevant.

This approach to the storytelling drained all the energy out of the plot, making it feel sluggish, washing out anything that could be considered a shock or a twist.