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readwatchdrinkcoffee's Reviews (382)
Salvation Station is an easy-to-read pageturner centred around a mysterious and compelling case, as we follow a determined police captain trying to find a killer who has really unnerved her, and a reverend whose faith is being taken advantage of.
The multiple storylines are both very interesting to see unfold, and each keeps your intrigue high as you anticipate how they will ultimately come together. Although it becomes quite obvious how they are linked, this is not a negative of the book. Sometimes authors need to deceive their readers to convince them that they have enjoyed the story, but I much prefer Salvation Station's more straightforward approach, which lures you in with great characters and curiosity, instead.
Kathryn Schleich's writing is naturally engaging, and Linda is a strong lead character who keeps you emotionally engaged in the case in the same way that she is. She's determined to find out the facts, as you root for her to find justice for whoever killed this young family and for someone to help Reverend Williams see sense before it's too late. In the end, the stories come together with a satisfying conclusion. I thought there might have been one final twist in the closing chapters, but Schleich still takes the time to effectively tie up all of her loose ends.
What I like most about this police procedural story is that it emphasises how long it can take to solve a murder case, as there aren't always the resources available to put a large team on a case fulltime. Set over a year, it is paced really well while also highlighting Linda's struggle to find enough ongoing evidence to keep the case open, without readers feeling the span of its dragged out timescale.
As a debut novel, Salvation Station is really impressive. The religious elements give the book an original feel, while Schleich's writing ensures that you remain hooked throughout.
The multiple storylines are both very interesting to see unfold, and each keeps your intrigue high as you anticipate how they will ultimately come together. Although it becomes quite obvious how they are linked, this is not a negative of the book. Sometimes authors need to deceive their readers to convince them that they have enjoyed the story, but I much prefer Salvation Station's more straightforward approach, which lures you in with great characters and curiosity, instead.
Kathryn Schleich's writing is naturally engaging, and Linda is a strong lead character who keeps you emotionally engaged in the case in the same way that she is. She's determined to find out the facts, as you root for her to find justice for whoever killed this young family and for someone to help Reverend Williams see sense before it's too late. In the end, the stories come together with a satisfying conclusion. I thought there might have been one final twist in the closing chapters, but Schleich still takes the time to effectively tie up all of her loose ends.
What I like most about this police procedural story is that it emphasises how long it can take to solve a murder case, as there aren't always the resources available to put a large team on a case fulltime. Set over a year, it is paced really well while also highlighting Linda's struggle to find enough ongoing evidence to keep the case open, without readers feeling the span of its dragged out timescale.
As a debut novel, Salvation Station is really impressive. The religious elements give the book an original feel, while Schleich's writing ensures that you remain hooked throughout.
Both a classic gothic novel and British ghost story, The Woman In Black was the perfect quick read this Halloween season.
The first thing that you will notice is that Susan Hill’s writing style feels a lot older than its time, reflecting on the ghost stories of the past. There are a few less suspenseful moments, but her prose allows for so much detail to be conveyed, beautifully conveying the eerie descriptions of the house and its setting.
Brilliantly descriptive and hauntingly atmospheric, we are told the story through Arthur Kipp’s narration as he retells his experience of Eel Marsh House. What I like about Arthur is that he takes things as they are. He knows the woman in black is a ghost, but he also knows that there’s a reason for her suffering and feels compelled to find out more.
Having seen the 2012 film adaptation, I knew what to expect in terms of plot, although there are some quite big changes. But while I expected to be a little spooked and to have to sleep with my light on at the thought of seeing the shadow of a woman in black in my bedroom, what I didn’t expect was to feel the emotion of the woman in black’s grief.
The Woman In Black is so much more than just a spooky tale. It completely drew me in, making me feel on edge with the tense and well-paced scares, but also gripping me emotionally with the revelations of the woman in black’s past. Ghosts linger when they have something unresolved, and there are obvious reasons why the woman in black wants her revenge.
The final chapter really took me by surprise, making it a story that will stick with me, and one that I intend to read again.
The first thing that you will notice is that Susan Hill’s writing style feels a lot older than its time, reflecting on the ghost stories of the past. There are a few less suspenseful moments, but her prose allows for so much detail to be conveyed, beautifully conveying the eerie descriptions of the house and its setting.
Brilliantly descriptive and hauntingly atmospheric, we are told the story through Arthur Kipp’s narration as he retells his experience of Eel Marsh House. What I like about Arthur is that he takes things as they are. He knows the woman in black is a ghost, but he also knows that there’s a reason for her suffering and feels compelled to find out more.
Having seen the 2012 film adaptation, I knew what to expect in terms of plot, although there are some quite big changes. But while I expected to be a little spooked and to have to sleep with my light on at the thought of seeing the shadow of a woman in black in my bedroom, what I didn’t expect was to feel the emotion of the woman in black’s grief.
The Woman In Black is so much more than just a spooky tale. It completely drew me in, making me feel on edge with the tense and well-paced scares, but also gripping me emotionally with the revelations of the woman in black’s past. Ghosts linger when they have something unresolved, and there are obvious reasons why the woman in black wants her revenge.
The final chapter really took me by surprise, making it a story that will stick with me, and one that I intend to read again.
There’s adult fiction and there’s young adult fiction, but why isn’t there a subgenre of “older adult” fiction? We all know that the older generation are the most entertaining. They don’t have the time or patience for the trivial issues that young adults face, and they’ve worked their way through their days of being middle-aged. Now, they can enjoy life’s simple pleasures, say what they want to, and get involved in whoever’s business they feel necessary. Because who has the time to worry about consequences any more?
That’s why The Thursday Murder Club is so much fun. Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron are a charming set of characters. They may be old, but they’re full of energy. And what better way to put your brain to use than to attempt to solve a murder mystery? Sure, they may overstep a few boundaries, but their intentions are in the right place.
It’s a wonderfully written book. Richard Osman’s intelligence and wit shine through his narrative. You know he’s a man with a lot of knowledge as he pays so much attention to detail. He’s constantly respectful of his diverse characters and of the changing attitudes of many of today’s more relevant issues. There are so many brief mentions of things including relevant political issues, currently trending shops, popular daytime TV programs, and general popular culture references that reflect on our modern world. This really helped to create a complete picture as I could perfectly imagine every street these characters walked down and every person they met.
Most of all, I loved how we get a look into the mindset of these older characters, about how they know they may not be around to renew their passport in three month’s time and how they’re all dealing with an emptiness of losing loved ones. It’s so easy to warm to them, and the messages of loneliness, grief, and loss towards the end, especially, tugged on my heartstrings.
The only aspect that stopped me from loving this book is that I don’t like crimes revolving around gangsters/gangs. That’s very much a personal annoyance, though, as the people at the centre of the crime and murders really didn’t interest me. But I loved The Thursday Murder Club gang and their attitudes towards life, and I look forward to seeing them come back together to solve another case.
That’s why The Thursday Murder Club is so much fun. Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron are a charming set of characters. They may be old, but they’re full of energy. And what better way to put your brain to use than to attempt to solve a murder mystery? Sure, they may overstep a few boundaries, but their intentions are in the right place.
It’s a wonderfully written book. Richard Osman’s intelligence and wit shine through his narrative. You know he’s a man with a lot of knowledge as he pays so much attention to detail. He’s constantly respectful of his diverse characters and of the changing attitudes of many of today’s more relevant issues. There are so many brief mentions of things including relevant political issues, currently trending shops, popular daytime TV programs, and general popular culture references that reflect on our modern world. This really helped to create a complete picture as I could perfectly imagine every street these characters walked down and every person they met.
Most of all, I loved how we get a look into the mindset of these older characters, about how they know they may not be around to renew their passport in three month’s time and how they’re all dealing with an emptiness of losing loved ones. It’s so easy to warm to them, and the messages of loneliness, grief, and loss towards the end, especially, tugged on my heartstrings.
The only aspect that stopped me from loving this book is that I don’t like crimes revolving around gangsters/gangs. That’s very much a personal annoyance, though, as the people at the centre of the crime and murders really didn’t interest me. But I loved The Thursday Murder Club gang and their attitudes towards life, and I look forward to seeing them come back together to solve another case.
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As a fan of The Maze Runner trilogy, I was looking forward to finding out what happened before we met Thomas and the gang in the Glade. But although it’s great to spend some time before the events of the Maze, The Kill Order doesn’t really answer any of the questions you’re left with from the main trilogy. Instead, it’s just a lot of action that happens before, rather than an exploration of why or how the sun flares hit.
There are a few interesting revelations and I like how it ties into the trilogy at the end, but The Kill Order is a very masculine feeling instalment. It’s led by two brutish men and is very action-heavy, and is drowning in male banter. Therefore, I couldn’t relate to these new characters so found it difficult to really care about them.
James Dashner is a good writer and he develops and tells this story well. It just wasn’t the story that I wanted to read about. The Kill Order is a spin-off rather than a prequel, so I imagine it would be fun for young readers who want a bit of action in an exciting apocalyptic world, but it’s not so interesting for fans of the original trilogy who want a better understanding of The Maze Runner world.
And if you want to find out more about Thomas and Teresa in the beginning, like I did, then I think we need to be reading The Fever Code instead? Let me know if you’ve read this and whether it’s worth reading or not.
There are a few interesting revelations and I like how it ties into the trilogy at the end, but The Kill Order is a very masculine feeling instalment. It’s led by two brutish men and is very action-heavy, and is drowning in male banter. Therefore, I couldn’t relate to these new characters so found it difficult to really care about them.
James Dashner is a good writer and he develops and tells this story well. It just wasn’t the story that I wanted to read about. The Kill Order is a spin-off rather than a prequel, so I imagine it would be fun for young readers who want a bit of action in an exciting apocalyptic world, but it’s not so interesting for fans of the original trilogy who want a better understanding of The Maze Runner world.
And if you want to find out more about Thomas and Teresa in the beginning, like I did, then I think we need to be reading The Fever Code instead? Let me know if you’ve read this and whether it’s worth reading or not.
There’s no doubting that Sharon Bolton’s latest will receive a lot of praise. And it’s well deserved. The Split is an unpredictable and fast-paced thriller that is sure to leave you with palpitations. But my feelings towards it are very much split.
Beginning in the desolate and ice-capped South Georgia, Bolton details her Nordic setting brilliantly. I’ve seen sliding glaciers in real life and the book perfectly captures the sharp-white landscape that bleeds hues of electric blues, and I could almost feel the frost on my fingertips from the opening chapters.
But what starts as a classic chase thriller in a unique setting is abruptly interrupted when the story goes back nine months in time. Obviously this was needed as we’re eager for answers, but I would have liked more time to get to know Felicity. I was just starting to like her when the book shifted back in time, where she has so much going on that I didn’t know whether to trust her not.
I think I would have preferred it if the chapters were interlinked so that part of the story remained in South Georgia, as the middle section is so farfetched at times that I couldn’t completely engage with her character.
It’s certainly a complex thriller and there are a lot of “WTF?” moments. Some of the twists are impressive, but most are too unconvincing, building up to so much that needs answering that the story starts to feel a little heavy. But to Bolton’s credit, she answers every question we’re left with and the final moments are full of suspense. I had guessed some of what was going on, but there’s so much going on in the story that I was still left surprised.
Although it was a little too extreme for me at times, The Split is still an easy-to-read and enjoyable thriller that showcases Bolton as a great writer.
Beginning in the desolate and ice-capped South Georgia, Bolton details her Nordic setting brilliantly. I’ve seen sliding glaciers in real life and the book perfectly captures the sharp-white landscape that bleeds hues of electric blues, and I could almost feel the frost on my fingertips from the opening chapters.
But what starts as a classic chase thriller in a unique setting is abruptly interrupted when the story goes back nine months in time. Obviously this was needed as we’re eager for answers, but I would have liked more time to get to know Felicity. I was just starting to like her when the book shifted back in time, where she has so much going on that I didn’t know whether to trust her not.
I think I would have preferred it if the chapters were interlinked so that part of the story remained in South Georgia, as the middle section is so farfetched at times that I couldn’t completely engage with her character.
It’s certainly a complex thriller and there are a lot of “WTF?” moments. Some of the twists are impressive, but most are too unconvincing, building up to so much that needs answering that the story starts to feel a little heavy. But to Bolton’s credit, she answers every question we’re left with and the final moments are full of suspense. I had guessed some of what was going on, but there’s so much going on in the story that I was still left surprised.
Although it was a little too extreme for me at times, The Split is still an easy-to-read and enjoyable thriller that showcases Bolton as a great writer.
The Housewarming is a heart-wrenching story that gripped me from start to finish, and I’ve been thinking about it for days. Incredibly well written and emotionally-driven, it’s a well-paced story with a shocking turn of events, and I highly recommend you give this one a read!
From the opening paragraphs alone, I instantly knew this was going to be a book that I loved. I related to Ava immediately. It’s tough being a mother. Like Ava, I cherish the brief moments of peace you manage to find during the day, whether it be doing a menial task or scrolling through your social media, to enjoy a few minutes of silence and take a moment to breathe. But I also know how all the while, you’re thinking about how anything can happen in those few minutes of silence, and that worry is always in the back of your mind.
For Ava, it was in these extra few minutes that she took for herself that this ordeal occurred. Abi went missing. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare, one that even the thought of fills my stomach with dread. The story is enough to invest any reader, and Ava’s pain is so raw that you can feel every ounce of it.
The narrative is a little repetitive at times as it rushes through Ava’s thoughts as she tortures herself over and over again by going over every tiny detail, but this represents her mindset brilliantly. This fast-paced and slightly fragmented narrative also helps to build up the suspense, as Ava doesn’t give everything away straight away. You become desperate to know, desperate for a bit of good news along the way or for a glimpse of hope.
I sympathised with Matt and Neil, too, and appreciate that Lynes took the time to see how Abi’s disappearance affected so many others. It’s an excellent exploration of grief and blame, as well as the need for answers in a situation that nobody ever wants to find themselves in.
The Housewarming gripped me completely, and the closing chapters are just as good as the first. There’s so much more going on than the one thing you’re trying to predict. I thought I had sussed it at one point, but I couldn’t have guessed the domino effect of a single act that escalated on that day.
And although there are many twists in the closing chapters, you can see all of the hints and minor developments that pointed towards this outcome when you look back at it. Lynes does a brilliant job of this, ensuring that the story keeps you guessing but that it all clicks into place perfectly when the events are re-examined.
I loved this book and can’t recommend it enough. I haven’t felt this invested in a story in a long time and will certainly be seeking out more from S.E. Lynes.
Thank you to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
From the opening paragraphs alone, I instantly knew this was going to be a book that I loved. I related to Ava immediately. It’s tough being a mother. Like Ava, I cherish the brief moments of peace you manage to find during the day, whether it be doing a menial task or scrolling through your social media, to enjoy a few minutes of silence and take a moment to breathe. But I also know how all the while, you’re thinking about how anything can happen in those few minutes of silence, and that worry is always in the back of your mind.
For Ava, it was in these extra few minutes that she took for herself that this ordeal occurred. Abi went missing. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare, one that even the thought of fills my stomach with dread. The story is enough to invest any reader, and Ava’s pain is so raw that you can feel every ounce of it.
The narrative is a little repetitive at times as it rushes through Ava’s thoughts as she tortures herself over and over again by going over every tiny detail, but this represents her mindset brilliantly. This fast-paced and slightly fragmented narrative also helps to build up the suspense, as Ava doesn’t give everything away straight away. You become desperate to know, desperate for a bit of good news along the way or for a glimpse of hope.
I sympathised with Matt and Neil, too, and appreciate that Lynes took the time to see how Abi’s disappearance affected so many others. It’s an excellent exploration of grief and blame, as well as the need for answers in a situation that nobody ever wants to find themselves in.
The Housewarming gripped me completely, and the closing chapters are just as good as the first. There’s so much more going on than the one thing you’re trying to predict. I thought I had sussed it at one point, but I couldn’t have guessed the domino effect of a single act that escalated on that day.
And although there are many twists in the closing chapters, you can see all of the hints and minor developments that pointed towards this outcome when you look back at it. Lynes does a brilliant job of this, ensuring that the story keeps you guessing but that it all clicks into place perfectly when the events are re-examined.
I loved this book and can’t recommend it enough. I haven’t felt this invested in a story in a long time and will certainly be seeking out more from S.E. Lynes.
Thank you to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I Know What I Saw is an intriguing thriller with a unique concept. Its lead character has a condition called hyperthymesia which means she can remember every single thing. But now her memory is put to the test. She may know the basics of how the events of that night played out, but she doesn’t understand them.
It’s such an absorbing story, as Nicola must piece together her own memories–which she’s certain are fact–with those of her friends, family, and neighbours, to try and figure out what really happened on that night over thirty years ago.
As we experience events through Nicola’s narration, the story progresses quickly making this a swift and enjoyable read. I wouldn’t say that I was gripped, but it certainly kept me reading through at a fast pace out of pure interest. The narration feels like the workings of Nicola’s mind which is what keeps it rapidly developing, but this also means that the truth is relayed in quite a fragmented way, which is a little frustrating at times as you are only given snippets of information at a time. But you know that these small bits of information will eventually build-up to the full picture, and the truth is definitely one that I didn’t see coming.
Nicola is a difficult character to like because she’s not only caught up in her past, she’s stuck there. Because of her condition, she must constantly relive the memories of her parents’ possible divorce brewing in her childhood home, as well as the emotional rollercoaster of the relationship with her first love, from the butterflies of their first kiss to a later betrayal of the heart.
Nicola can remember every single feeling of happiness and excitement in her life, but also every feeling of sadness, heartache, and fear, so I did feel some sympathy for her as it’s an impossible situation to imagine yourself in. Nicola can’t get over Dec because she still vividly remembers what it felt like to fall in love with him, and she isn’t close to her mum because she still feels the distance between her parents, despite her more recent apologies. It’s a harsh reality, one that the book cleverly uses to centre its story around, but one that I think could have been better emphasised to get us to relate to Nicola more and in a more empathetic way.
While it’s this concept that makes I Know What I Saw such an intriguing read, what I liked most about this book is how it got me thinking about how we remember things. Our memories aren’t always the same as those belonging to others involved. We experience things differently to how others perceive them, often remembering events through the tint of our emotions at that time, which is what brings in some of the book’s twists and turns.
I Know What I Saw may not have shocked me in any big way, but it was an entertaining read with many stimulating ideas. I will certainly be keeping an eye out for more of S.K. Sharp‘s work in the future.
It’s such an absorbing story, as Nicola must piece together her own memories–which she’s certain are fact–with those of her friends, family, and neighbours, to try and figure out what really happened on that night over thirty years ago.
As we experience events through Nicola’s narration, the story progresses quickly making this a swift and enjoyable read. I wouldn’t say that I was gripped, but it certainly kept me reading through at a fast pace out of pure interest. The narration feels like the workings of Nicola’s mind which is what keeps it rapidly developing, but this also means that the truth is relayed in quite a fragmented way, which is a little frustrating at times as you are only given snippets of information at a time. But you know that these small bits of information will eventually build-up to the full picture, and the truth is definitely one that I didn’t see coming.
Nicola is a difficult character to like because she’s not only caught up in her past, she’s stuck there. Because of her condition, she must constantly relive the memories of her parents’ possible divorce brewing in her childhood home, as well as the emotional rollercoaster of the relationship with her first love, from the butterflies of their first kiss to a later betrayal of the heart.
Nicola can remember every single feeling of happiness and excitement in her life, but also every feeling of sadness, heartache, and fear, so I did feel some sympathy for her as it’s an impossible situation to imagine yourself in. Nicola can’t get over Dec because she still vividly remembers what it felt like to fall in love with him, and she isn’t close to her mum because she still feels the distance between her parents, despite her more recent apologies. It’s a harsh reality, one that the book cleverly uses to centre its story around, but one that I think could have been better emphasised to get us to relate to Nicola more and in a more empathetic way.
While it’s this concept that makes I Know What I Saw such an intriguing read, what I liked most about this book is how it got me thinking about how we remember things. Our memories aren’t always the same as those belonging to others involved. We experience things differently to how others perceive them, often remembering events through the tint of our emotions at that time, which is what brings in some of the book’s twists and turns.
I Know What I Saw may not have shocked me in any big way, but it was an entertaining read with many stimulating ideas. I will certainly be keeping an eye out for more of S.K. Sharp‘s work in the future.
Some thrillers pull you in emotionally with a crime relating to people, relationships, and betrayals, while others are about police corruption and criminal enterprises which pull you in with intricate details. Close To The Bone is a bit of both, but it’s mostly the latter.
It’s much bleaker in tone than most thrillers I’ve read recently with its focus on money laundering, people trafficking and organised crime. While there are elements of an unresolved mystery and character’s going through psychological torment, it’s not a crime drama that you will feel emotionally attached to. Instead, it’s an in-depth investigation that feels painfully relevant to many of today’s issues.
Keeping you engaged with a quick pace and tight plot, the book follows two stories which link together well. But I wouldn’t describe it as “edge of your seat suspense” as the cover suggests. It’s much more sophisticated than that. You can tell that Susan Wilkins is an experienced writer as she doesn’t bother with over-used thriller tropes. The suspense here is in the intelligently-researched police procedural process and the disappointment in how hard the story hits home.
Although the story isn’t particularly tense and lacks a bit of action at times, what gets under your nails is how true-to-life it feels. There are too many cases like this on the news at the minute where the human aspect is lost or forgotten, so it’s the rawness of the case that Megan is investigating that keeps you so interested.
But the trouble with a story like this is that you can’t sympathise with any of the characters because too few of them have good intentions. While there are many strong characters, it’s difficult to feel drawn to any of the people under investigation because they are all selfish and money-driven. The members of the Devon & Cornwall Police team are described well, but this second book does still feel like an introduction to most of them so it’s difficult to find someone to root for.
Megan herself, however, is really likeable. I love her straight-talking and no-nonsense approach. She’s a very relatable character who is undeniably good at her job. But her troubled past has obviously made her close up, so I feel like we’re only scratching on the surface with her character and that there’s a lot more to discover about her.
Although this is the second book it the series, it works incredibly well as a standalone book. It rounds up Megan’s past and current circumstances well and the connections are easy to follow. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything regarding any of the relationships, but I did want to know more about some of the characters in the closing chapters.
I enjoyed the slight hint of romance, which felt more like a mutual need to feel connected to someone than anything too romanticised, but I wanted just one more scene between Megan and Danny at the end. You could see that she is a very lonely person and that trusting somebody else was a big step for her to take, so I wanted Wilkins to leave things on a bit more of high with a hint at where their relationship will be going in a possible future instalment.
Most of all, I wanted to see inside Jim’s mindset a little more. He was obviously troubled and filled with anger, and there was obviously a balance being staged as to whether we should feel sorry for him because of his illness or dislike him because of his brutish actions and attitude. But I needed to see more of the torment going on in his mind to better understand his resentment of life. In the end, I just found him unlikeable which didn’t make me care about his actions enough.
Overall, Close To The Bone is a really well written and developed police investigation and I did really enjoy reading it, but I just wasn’t excited enough by it to give it a higher rating. Still, I’m intrigued by Megan and am certainly interested in reading the first book in the series to feel better connected to these characters.
It’s much bleaker in tone than most thrillers I’ve read recently with its focus on money laundering, people trafficking and organised crime. While there are elements of an unresolved mystery and character’s going through psychological torment, it’s not a crime drama that you will feel emotionally attached to. Instead, it’s an in-depth investigation that feels painfully relevant to many of today’s issues.
Keeping you engaged with a quick pace and tight plot, the book follows two stories which link together well. But I wouldn’t describe it as “edge of your seat suspense” as the cover suggests. It’s much more sophisticated than that. You can tell that Susan Wilkins is an experienced writer as she doesn’t bother with over-used thriller tropes. The suspense here is in the intelligently-researched police procedural process and the disappointment in how hard the story hits home.
Although the story isn’t particularly tense and lacks a bit of action at times, what gets under your nails is how true-to-life it feels. There are too many cases like this on the news at the minute where the human aspect is lost or forgotten, so it’s the rawness of the case that Megan is investigating that keeps you so interested.
But the trouble with a story like this is that you can’t sympathise with any of the characters because too few of them have good intentions. While there are many strong characters, it’s difficult to feel drawn to any of the people under investigation because they are all selfish and money-driven. The members of the Devon & Cornwall Police team are described well, but this second book does still feel like an introduction to most of them so it’s difficult to find someone to root for.
Megan herself, however, is really likeable. I love her straight-talking and no-nonsense approach. She’s a very relatable character who is undeniably good at her job. But her troubled past has obviously made her close up, so I feel like we’re only scratching on the surface with her character and that there’s a lot more to discover about her.
Although this is the second book it the series, it works incredibly well as a standalone book. It rounds up Megan’s past and current circumstances well and the connections are easy to follow. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything regarding any of the relationships, but I did want to know more about some of the characters in the closing chapters.
I enjoyed the slight hint of romance, which felt more like a mutual need to feel connected to someone than anything too romanticised, but I wanted just one more scene between Megan and Danny at the end. You could see that she is a very lonely person and that trusting somebody else was a big step for her to take, so I wanted Wilkins to leave things on a bit more of high with a hint at where their relationship will be going in a possible future instalment.
Most of all, I wanted to see inside Jim’s mindset a little more. He was obviously troubled and filled with anger, and there was obviously a balance being staged as to whether we should feel sorry for him because of his illness or dislike him because of his brutish actions and attitude. But I needed to see more of the torment going on in his mind to better understand his resentment of life. In the end, I just found him unlikeable which didn’t make me care about his actions enough.
Overall, Close To The Bone is a really well written and developed police investigation and I did really enjoy reading it, but I just wasn’t excited enough by it to give it a higher rating. Still, I’m intrigued by Megan and am certainly interested in reading the first book in the series to feel better connected to these characters.
Here Is The Beehive is unlike anything I have ever read before, and I’m not sure if I loved it or am left disappointed by it. Easy to divulge in one sitting because of the poetic structure, it is a beautifully written book but one that feels claustrophobic in its central character’s depression.
Ana is the other woman in an affair, grieving for a man that nobody else knows she even knew. Part of her is full of regret and shame, and the other is left completely heartbroken. But mostly, she’s full of bitterness. She’s bitter because a woman that Connor didn’t love is being comforted for her loss, while Ana is forced to go back to her unhappy life as if nothing ever happened. But did he still love Rebecca? Would he have actually left her? We follow the torment in Ana’s mind as she tries to piece things together for herself, a painful journey that isn’t always easy to read.
Affairs aren’t something you can easily relate to, so it’s a story that we shouldn’t really sympathise with because Ana is admittedly in the wrong. But is it so bad that she found happiness? That she wanted to be loved so badly? I felt a little empathy for her at times because the heart wants what the heart wants, and I set aside my judgement to understand her side of the story, but her misery weighs you down so much that you can’t see the justifications in her actions.
I wanted to know more about why Ana and Connor started their affair in the first place. Why did she find him attractive? What sparked their connection? Maybe this was to ensure that we didn’t feel connected to a relationship that was based on deceit, but I didn’t feel any passion between them. They both just seemed constantly unhappy. Ana was never satisfied, which made her impossible to engage with. But I can see why she’s written this way. Affairs show us the worst in people, and that’s certainly what Here Is The Beehive does.
But I kind of admire this bleakness, as well. It’s sharp and blunt and isn’t flowered with positivity just to make it feel more approachable, so I love how true to life it is at the same time. But Ana’s mood is so dark. She’s destructive and full of self-hate which makes it an uncomfortable read, for the most part. I felt her pain, but I wanted to feel her heartbreak, and for that, I needed to feel the love between her and Connor.
Although its fluid narrative makes for an easy read, it’s easy to get disorientated between the past and present because of the book’s structure and confused over different characters when you aren’t allowed the time to be introduced to them properly. There’s also a transphobic comment by one character which seemed completely unnecessary. There are many hints to modern issues such as email scamming and gender dysphoria which I liked, but this one comment wasn’t needed without any more being said about it, especially when it was the only conversation Connor had with Ana before their affair started.
I’m torn with my rating on this book. Part of me wants to rate it a four because of how emotive and raw it is, and I love a story that makes me feel sad. I also love the prose and there are so many beautiful lines of text, but I just didn’t like the characters, which is what makes me want to rate it lower. Either way, it’s certainly a book that I will be thinking about for a long time.
Thankyou to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Ana is the other woman in an affair, grieving for a man that nobody else knows she even knew. Part of her is full of regret and shame, and the other is left completely heartbroken. But mostly, she’s full of bitterness. She’s bitter because a woman that Connor didn’t love is being comforted for her loss, while Ana is forced to go back to her unhappy life as if nothing ever happened. But did he still love Rebecca? Would he have actually left her? We follow the torment in Ana’s mind as she tries to piece things together for herself, a painful journey that isn’t always easy to read.
Affairs aren’t something you can easily relate to, so it’s a story that we shouldn’t really sympathise with because Ana is admittedly in the wrong. But is it so bad that she found happiness? That she wanted to be loved so badly? I felt a little empathy for her at times because the heart wants what the heart wants, and I set aside my judgement to understand her side of the story, but her misery weighs you down so much that you can’t see the justifications in her actions.
I wanted to know more about why Ana and Connor started their affair in the first place. Why did she find him attractive? What sparked their connection? Maybe this was to ensure that we didn’t feel connected to a relationship that was based on deceit, but I didn’t feel any passion between them. They both just seemed constantly unhappy. Ana was never satisfied, which made her impossible to engage with. But I can see why she’s written this way. Affairs show us the worst in people, and that’s certainly what Here Is The Beehive does.
But I kind of admire this bleakness, as well. It’s sharp and blunt and isn’t flowered with positivity just to make it feel more approachable, so I love how true to life it is at the same time. But Ana’s mood is so dark. She’s destructive and full of self-hate which makes it an uncomfortable read, for the most part. I felt her pain, but I wanted to feel her heartbreak, and for that, I needed to feel the love between her and Connor.
Although its fluid narrative makes for an easy read, it’s easy to get disorientated between the past and present because of the book’s structure and confused over different characters when you aren’t allowed the time to be introduced to them properly. There’s also a transphobic comment by one character which seemed completely unnecessary. There are many hints to modern issues such as email scamming and gender dysphoria which I liked, but this one comment wasn’t needed without any more being said about it, especially when it was the only conversation Connor had with Ana before their affair started.
I’m torn with my rating on this book. Part of me wants to rate it a four because of how emotive and raw it is, and I love a story that makes me feel sad. I also love the prose and there are so many beautiful lines of text, but I just didn’t like the characters, which is what makes me want to rate it lower. Either way, it’s certainly a book that I will be thinking about for a long time.
Thankyou to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
With the premise of having a podcaster sit in on a rape trial as she describes the courtroom experience to her listeners, The Night Swim instantly has a modern and unique spin on it that makes you feel a part of the jury. As you get to play the role of the listener and decide ‘Guilty or Not Guilty’, it’s easy to enjoy the steady pace of this slowly-unravelling mystery, just as you would watch a real-life crime unfold on your TV screen at home.
With heavy themes and a 25-year-long mystery to uncover, The Night Swim has its moments of being an unsettling and psychological thriller. But this is combined with compelling characters, emotional resolutions and heartbreaking turning points for its characters, which results in a thought-provoking narrative that questions the justice system and our duty as spectators.
It’s a real slow burner which works as both a positive and a negative for this book. It begins as a slight negative as the opening chapter doesn’t give much away, and the information is revealed so slowly that it doesn’t have that unputdownable rush to it that we so often crave these days. But it’s obvious that that’s not how Goldin wanted to approach her story, as she builds on the atmosphere of the courtroom’s slow pace by giving the reader snippets of the truth drop by drop, which really suits the premise as it begins to develop more.
However, with two stories developing side by side, one in the present and one in the past, Rachel, as a journalist, should have started to piece things together a lot better. She obviously had a lot on her plate with her priorities on the trial, but there were certain comments made about details of Jenny’s death that made you attempt a guess at who was behind her potential murder, which Rachel just wasn’t questioning. Because of this, her restricted vision didn’t allow for the narration to expand on these connections. The reveal of her killer did come as a big shock to me as it wasn’t an easy twist to predict, but there were similarities to Jenny and Kate’s case that nothing came of in the end which I found a little disappointing.
But instead of making links to a clever twist to distract her readers, Goldin uses the trial and the potential murder case to raise some really important discussions. At the story’s core, there’s a great conversation about how we find it so easy to question a victim of rape, yet we would never ask someone who had been murdered if they were asking for it [if we were given the opportunity to].
“When school kids are shot by a random shooter, nobody asks whether the victims should have taken more precautions. Nobody suggests that maybe the victims should have skipped school that day. Nobody ever blames the victims. So why is it that when women are attacked, the onus is on them?”
Goldin uses her narrative to make some very valid and insightful points and it’s this side to the story that will stop you in your tracks and make you think. But I also think that there’s a lot to be said about the accused being innocent until proven guilty, as well. Rachel often says that she’s keeping her mind open, but it’s obvious from the beginning that she’s out to prove a different point entirely, that our first thought shouldn’t be to doubt a victim of abuse or to put them under more stress by having to prove that something so horrible happened to them. Of course there’s a lot of importance in that message, too, and it’s a tough subject to broach. But people are wrongly accused on occasions, and as the book details, it can ruin a person’s life.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t get how we can almost unanimously agree that murder is wrong, yet when it comes to rape some people still see shades of gray.”
Although you can see why Rachel makes up her mind so early, my only problem with this is because of her position. Attending the trial as a journalist, she shouldn’t have been so blatant with her opinions. As some of her critics said, she needed to be more objective to rock the story a little more. I would have liked more time spent on the possibility that maybe he didn’t do it, and that maybe Kate was out for revenge because of something that possibly linked to Hannah’s past, just to give you that sense of doubt and really put you in the mindset of a juror in the courtroom.
There was just something that didn’t click for me to be blown away by it. Without having that added twist of whether Kate is telling the truth or not, and the answer of whether he is guilty or not guilty being made quite obvious, I wasn’t hooked on the thriller side of the story as much as I wanted to be. The courtroom drama side to the story is engaging and there’s certainly a lot to admire about Goldin’s story-telling, but it’s definitely more of a character-driven mystery than a quick-paced thriller.
The two stories come together well and I really like Goldin’s writing and development. She deals with the hard-hitting story brilliantly, getting across a powerful message about how we perceive accusations of rape in an eye-opening way. But it lacked a shock-factor, for me. The thriller elements could have been used to a better effect to grip me more tightly and make me care about the final revelations more, but it was a much softer impact that it had on me in the end.
Nevertheless, with some of the story being told through Rachel’s podcasts, this would make a great audiobook to listen to, as you could sit and figure out who was Guilty or Not Guilty for yourself. I would definitely be a fan of Rachel’s podcast if it were real, anyway. And if Goldin were to give Rachel a follow-up story, I would choose to listen, instead.
Thankyou to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
With heavy themes and a 25-year-long mystery to uncover, The Night Swim has its moments of being an unsettling and psychological thriller. But this is combined with compelling characters, emotional resolutions and heartbreaking turning points for its characters, which results in a thought-provoking narrative that questions the justice system and our duty as spectators.
It’s a real slow burner which works as both a positive and a negative for this book. It begins as a slight negative as the opening chapter doesn’t give much away, and the information is revealed so slowly that it doesn’t have that unputdownable rush to it that we so often crave these days. But it’s obvious that that’s not how Goldin wanted to approach her story, as she builds on the atmosphere of the courtroom’s slow pace by giving the reader snippets of the truth drop by drop, which really suits the premise as it begins to develop more.
However, with two stories developing side by side, one in the present and one in the past, Rachel, as a journalist, should have started to piece things together a lot better. She obviously had a lot on her plate with her priorities on the trial, but there were certain comments made about details of Jenny’s death that made you attempt a guess at who was behind her potential murder, which Rachel just wasn’t questioning. Because of this, her restricted vision didn’t allow for the narration to expand on these connections. The reveal of her killer did come as a big shock to me as it wasn’t an easy twist to predict, but there were similarities to Jenny and Kate’s case that nothing came of in the end which I found a little disappointing.
But instead of making links to a clever twist to distract her readers, Goldin uses the trial and the potential murder case to raise some really important discussions. At the story’s core, there’s a great conversation about how we find it so easy to question a victim of rape, yet we would never ask someone who had been murdered if they were asking for it [if we were given the opportunity to].
“When school kids are shot by a random shooter, nobody asks whether the victims should have taken more precautions. Nobody suggests that maybe the victims should have skipped school that day. Nobody ever blames the victims. So why is it that when women are attacked, the onus is on them?”
Goldin uses her narrative to make some very valid and insightful points and it’s this side to the story that will stop you in your tracks and make you think. But I also think that there’s a lot to be said about the accused being innocent until proven guilty, as well. Rachel often says that she’s keeping her mind open, but it’s obvious from the beginning that she’s out to prove a different point entirely, that our first thought shouldn’t be to doubt a victim of abuse or to put them under more stress by having to prove that something so horrible happened to them. Of course there’s a lot of importance in that message, too, and it’s a tough subject to broach. But people are wrongly accused on occasions, and as the book details, it can ruin a person’s life.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t get how we can almost unanimously agree that murder is wrong, yet when it comes to rape some people still see shades of gray.”
Although you can see why Rachel makes up her mind so early, my only problem with this is because of her position. Attending the trial as a journalist, she shouldn’t have been so blatant with her opinions. As some of her critics said, she needed to be more objective to rock the story a little more. I would have liked more time spent on the possibility that maybe he didn’t do it, and that maybe Kate was out for revenge because of something that possibly linked to Hannah’s past, just to give you that sense of doubt and really put you in the mindset of a juror in the courtroom.
There was just something that didn’t click for me to be blown away by it. Without having that added twist of whether Kate is telling the truth or not, and the answer of whether he is guilty or not guilty being made quite obvious, I wasn’t hooked on the thriller side of the story as much as I wanted to be. The courtroom drama side to the story is engaging and there’s certainly a lot to admire about Goldin’s story-telling, but it’s definitely more of a character-driven mystery than a quick-paced thriller.
The two stories come together well and I really like Goldin’s writing and development. She deals with the hard-hitting story brilliantly, getting across a powerful message about how we perceive accusations of rape in an eye-opening way. But it lacked a shock-factor, for me. The thriller elements could have been used to a better effect to grip me more tightly and make me care about the final revelations more, but it was a much softer impact that it had on me in the end.
Nevertheless, with some of the story being told through Rachel’s podcasts, this would make a great audiobook to listen to, as you could sit and figure out who was Guilty or Not Guilty for yourself. I would definitely be a fan of Rachel’s podcast if it were real, anyway. And if Goldin were to give Rachel a follow-up story, I would choose to listen, instead.
Thankyou to NetGalley for a free advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.