The first two of these were better crafted, whereas this one seems rushed and even the red herring is kinda predictable—almost as if it really did happen and he was loathe to write about it, but had already signed the contract so had little choice… I’m a bit surprised by the feeling the writing gave me. Literally as though he was so opposed to writing this novel but felt forced to finish to fulfil an obligation. Is that what happened here…?

The trip to the island reminds me of several Christie-like novels I’ve read in the past few years; a stiff nod to And Then There Were None, Ruth Ware’s One by One or Lucy Foley’s The Hunting Party—but not quite hitting the same tone of suspense and never delivering the thrills—and then dropping short of killing more people off than these other authors.

Anthony doesn’t like the former detective he’s shadowing—and we like Hawthorne better than we like our narrator, but the annoyed put-out Anthony transmits his vibe with effectiveness. I felt annoyed and put-out most of the way through too.

The murders are not exactly cosy, but they’re not bloody gory passion crimes either, and the (somewhat predictable) conclusion leaves the self-debasing Anthony baffled, even if he writes it in a way that we all kinda saw it coming. I don’t know how he made himself look so clueless when he’s the one dropping the clues all along—that was interesting.

Then, in the end, there a sniff of something more interesting to come… or is it…?