Joelle's Bibliofile

The Heap by Sean Adams is recalls the type of winking political and societal satire presented in works by Vonnegut and Pyncheon, or in the film “Brazil” by Terry Gilliam.  Adam’s novel wittily reflects the mindlessness and vapidity of our modern age within an alternative universe controlled by a corrupt bureaucracy that takes advantage of people’s worst tendencies.  The story is simple but unusual- Orville is a man searching for his brother among the ruins of a collapsed building.  “Los Verticalés” was originally designed as a type of utopian community, an enormous ever-expanding tower meant to provide everything people would need for existence within one self-contained structure. The Heap takes place after the building’s inevitable collapse, becoming a tale of the stalled rescue of the lone survivor of the tragedy, Bernard.  Orville’s brother is still within the rubble, broadcasting continuously from his radio station and taking calls from the outside. The building’s original architects have enlisted people to conduct the search as they also unearth and sell off salvageable items. A whole community has sprung up around the effort, including: the diggers and an administrative support system; small businesses to provide amenities; and a band of people who once lived in the tower, having escaped the tragedy by not being home when the collapse occurred.  These are the “displaced,” who write about what life was like in Los Verticalés, providing the reader some vital background information about the social experiment. Most of The Heap consists of Adams describing how the evolved community has established its own routines and fallen into a state of passive ennui over time.  Lydia, one of Orville’s dig partners, is the only character who possesses political ambitions and is therefore consistently frustrated by the reluctance of others to change or put forth extra effort. Other secondary characters become allegories for human adaptation to loss and the drive toward comfort even if freedom must be sacrificed.  It takes a bit too long, but eventually events occur that shake up the plodding existence of the Heap and its inhabitants- challenging them to stand up to the menacing corporate cabal that wants them to continue succumbing to their stupor.  Orville, with his uniquely emotional connection to the place, is responsible for rebelling against the underlying power structure. His reluctant awareness and subsequent actions result in some unexpected and humorous ripple effects.  Strange and sometimes slow-paced, The Heap is an interesting experiment in storytelling.  Though probably not universally appealing, readers who are searching for something unique, smile-provoking and subtly pointed would do well to give this new novel a try.

Thanks to the author, William Morrow and Library Thing for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

It appears that Caroline Mitchell, author of the The Perfect Mother and other previous thrillers and works of psychological suspense, made a good decision when she switched from being CID to becoming a full-time author.   Her latest release is a tense and twisty novel that offers some good character development and solid plotting to counteract a small bit of predictability and repetition.  Roz is living in Dublin with her best friend when she discovers that she is pregnant after a secret one-night encounter. Roz feels unprepared to raise a child at this point in her young life, but is also unwilling to have an abortion due to her religious upbringing.  Faced with this dilemma, she explores an option unique to our modern economy- a website offering to anonymously connect wealthy couples with surrogates or those looking for adoption in return for extensive compensation.  Her roommate, Dympna, tries to dissuade her from following through with the arrangements, but Roz is dazzled by an offer that will have her pampered in NYC at the behest of a high-profile couple looking to pass off an unborn child as their own. She also believes that this is an incredible opportunity for her child to have the very best that life can offer. Roz is naïve but smarter than she first appears, and the reader may be initially frustrated by her actions but will come to respect her intuition and self-preservation skills. It is a little too late when Roz realizes that her circumstances are suspicious when she finds herself held captive by a celebrity couple who may have already performed some serious misdeeds in the past.  Their money and influence have bought the silence of those who abet their scheme, and the woman in the couple seems to be completely unhinged and controlling to the point of abuse.  Mitchell writes the character of Sheridan especially well.  She manages to be an obvious villain, but still evokes pity and has some surprising attributes and a rationale that rescue her from becoming a caricature.  Dympna is also a resourceful person in the story, providing the moral and rational voice that acts as the safety valve in the spiraling action. The novel is told primarily through Roz as the first-person narrator, with occasional guest chapters told from Sheridan and Dympna’s point of view. There are also cleverly placed excerpts from tabloid press “articles” that help flesh out the backstory of Sheridan and her superstar husband.  The reveal of the paternity of the baby is not as surprising as it was intended to be, and some of the “Americanisms” are a bit off, but these are forgivable in light of the rest of the book’s overall quality.   The Perfect Mother is not a perfect thriller, but it is an entertaining one- a solid choice that will delight those looking for an absorbing new read.

Thanks to the author, Thomas & Mercer (Amazon) and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Firstly, I have to say that I have a deep respect for anyone who puts pen to paper, embarking on the thankless task of writing a novel.  I admire those who have the stamina and bravery to put something original out there - exposed and vulnerable to critics who cannot possibly understand how difficult it is to be truly original and expressive when so many wonderful things have already been written.  I love reading, and appreciate that my own passion could not be fulfilled if others did not take this leap of faith to produce works for my consumption.  Unfortunately, occasionally there are times however when I wish a writer had been told by a professional or friend that their output is a mess before releasing it out into the world. 

Woman on the Edge by Samantha M. Bailey is a debut novel that badly needed such a voice of reason.  Although the premise is captivating and the novel starts out on a promising note, it quickly devolves into a tangle of unsympathetic characters engaged in improbable scenarios in which they make stupendously imbecilic decisions.  Morgan Kincaid, a social worker on her way to work one day encounters a desperate woman with a baby in her arms.  This stranger somehow knows her name and tosses the baby in her arms to her right before falling backwards onto the train tracks.  It turns out that the mother is Nicole Markham, founder and CEO of a famous athleisure company who has been brought to this insane state due to a combination of past trauma, paranoia due to PPD and an insidious plot against her. Despite being in a crowded place, no one witnesses to the event can corroborate Morgan’s version of the tragedy. Morgan has her own storied past which involves a husband who committed suicide after being investigated for embezzlement.  For some reason, the same irrationally vindictive detective that believed that Morgan was involved in those financial crimes also is on this case as well, and now suspects her of pushing Nicole to her death. The novel consists of alternating chapters describing Nicole’s unnecessary dissolution and Morgan’s harebrained attempts to clear her name by playing amateur detective while ignoring her lawyer’s advice. These are both women apparently bereft of friends, intuition, social skills-or even a shred of common sense. Any potential empathy or credibility is lost as the reader becomes increasing confused by how the plot unfolds; frustrated by the implausibility of the motives of the ancillary characters; and infuriated by the way Morgan and Nicole are repeated victims of their own bad choices. It is difficult to see all the women portrayed in the novel possessed with so few redeeming qualities, and the baby is the only female character left worth rooting for.  What is truly unfortunate is that Woman on the Edge, with a bit more care and editing, might have been an interesting look into the insecurity of motherhood and the devastating effects of postpartum psychosis.  Then, it might have had the potential to be mystery worth sinking into instead of one that must simply be endured.

Thanks to the author, Simon and Schuster and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Allison Brennan begins a new series on fairly strong footing with The Third to Die, a thriller with some interesting and complex characters that remain unique but occasionally dip into some tired tropes of the genre.  The book begins from the point of view of a serial killer whose meticulous nature and disturbing psychology are immediately apparent as he is described cleaning up after his latest crime.  Liberty Lake is a small Washington town, unused to such violence and the local law enforcement is ill-equipped to handle such a complex case.  Luckily, the body happens to be discovered by Kara Quinn, an LAPD undercover detective who is on a mandatory vacation for reasons that will be discovered as the story evolves.  Because of its similarity to other cases known to be committed by the “Triple Killer,” the FBI sends a newly formed unit called the Mobile Response Unit to aid in the investigation.  Matt Costa barely has time to form his team and coax his best friend and expert profiler out of retirement before the killer is due to strike again.  Targeting nurses, teachers and police, the “Triple Killer” has evaded capture due to his long waiting periods and victim profiles that defy easy classification.  Of course, small town politics and jurisdictional issues arise to complicate matters further.  Kara Quinn is enormously perceptive, and due to her inability to relax while visiting her grandmother, she is an eager and welcomed help to Costa and the MRT. Still, her complicated past and cavalier approach to excessive force may make her a liability as well.  Of course, Costa and Quinn find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other and quickly tumble into a sexual liaison of the “I’m damaged, so won’t let anyone get too close” variety.  The action in The Third to Die is fast-paced and compelling, if also a bit predictable.  Brennan is at her best when she is inside the mind of the killer and weakest in her portrayal of the formulaic carnal passages.  The cast of characters are obviously crafted to continue past this book and are drawn convincingly enough to attract a following.  This new release will appeal mostly to those who like their thrillers traditional and comfortably familiar. Hopefully, Brennan’s follow up will go deeper into the development of the MRT team and avoid veering again into unnecessary romance.

Thanks to the author, MIRA/Harlequin Books and Edelweiss for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

The Making of You by Katharina Vestre would be a good resource for parents and educators of young people looking for a fun but straightforward answer to the inevitable question about how babies develop in utero.  Adults will also appreciate the light and non-controversial approach taken by Vestre, along with her pleasant colloquial tone and personal asides.  Also included are some schematic drawings that depict various developmental stages as an accompaniment to the text, but these are not as precise or detailed as those that would appear in a more academic work. Comprehension of complex topics like genetics and biological chemistry is aided by the inclusion of interesting trivia and riveting scientific discoveries-particularly those that draw comparisons of human evolution with that of insects and other animals. The book’s short format and humor helps to sustain interest and encourages discussion about what can go awry without becoming overly dramatic or didactic. The Making of You is far from comprehensive, however, and can be somewhat confusing when it vacillates between sections that use either a chronological or a systems approach.  Some of Vestre’s anecdotes and asides may also require translation for an American audience who may not be familiar with some of her cultural references (eg. dummy=pacifier). Overall, Vestre’s simple approach and obvious enthusiasm provide a nice alternative for those seeking a quick overview or broad introduction to a fascinating subject.

Thanks to the author, Greystone Books and Library Thing for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Jess Kidd introduces readers to a fascinating new fictional heroine, Bridie Devine, her primary character in her latest offering Things in Jars.  This novel, by the author of Himself and Mr. Flood’s Last Resort, is a chimera of historical mystery and fantasy, with a pinch of romance added as well. Bridie Devine is a figure regarded with suspicious respect in Victorian England in her role as a female detective with an odd choice of interests and expertise. Her natural intellect and powers of deduction have become enhanced by an independent spirit and steely hardiness developed as a byproduct of her untraditional Irish background.  When Bridie is brought in to help recover the kidnapped child of a Baronet, she wonders why she was selected for the assignment in lieu of the traditional authorities.  It becomes clear, however, that the nature of this case involves some unsavory and fantastical elements that require a unique approach.  A mystery regarding Bridie’s own past is interwoven with a main storyline that encompasses ghosts, mermaids, Resurrection Men, exploited circus “freaks,” and genetic oddities that attract the interest of unethical medical experimenters. There is a lot going on in this novel, and the stylized language and brief forays into the second person perspective exacerbate a sense of disorientation.  Kidd does a fairly good job of keeping the narrative on track, however, with a steady pace and chapter/section breaks that help prevent the reader from getting too lost along the way.  Although Things in Jars concludes in a satisfying way, the author leaves open the possibility of a sequel or series featuring Bridie Devine- a character that is compelling enough pique a reader’s interest in revisiting her world.

Thanks to the author, Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Tanen Jones’ debut novel The Better Liar introduces an intriguing premise: Can we ever really reinvent ourselves, or are we inevitably constrained by our inherited traits and upbringing? The book begins as Leslie Voigt concludes her search for her runaway sister when she finds the woman dead in an apartment in Los Vegas.  Robin had snuck out over ten years prior, and her death by apparent drug overdose-while unsurprising to her older sister-is particularly inconvenient at that moment.  Their mother died when they were children, and their father has also just passed away recently. His will specifies that both daughters must be physically present during its reading for either of them to collect their inheritance.  The reader remains in the dark about why Leslie is so impatient about getting her share, but she is obviously desperate to get her hands on the money.  When she encounters a young woman resembling Robin at a restaurant near her sister’s apartment, she sees a potential solution. Leslie tries to persuade the stranger to accompany her to Albuquerque so she can impersonate her sibling at the lawyer’s office.  Mary is an actress and just happens to also be looking for some easy cash, so she agrees to collude with the fraud for an equal share.  Leslie soon discovers, however, that she may have aligned herself with a dangerous and unstable person who has her own nefarious agenda in mind.  Filled with outrageous coincidences and implausible events, The Better Liar stretches a reader’s credulity to the limit.  The book is certainly exciting and has some interesting plot twists but suffers from uneven writing and some confusing diversions that occur throughout.  Jones also ambitiously takes on the delicate subject of Postpartum Depression, despite admitting in the afterword that she has no direct experience with it.  While experience is not always necessary for an author to appropriately address an issue, the portrayal here rings false and might even be potentially offensive by those who have suffered from this devastating illness.  So, while the underlying ideas and objectives of The Better Liar are admirable, their execution unfortunately fall far short in this initial effort.

Thanks to the author, Ballantine Books/Random House and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Fans of 2009’s Perks of Being a Wallflower (the book and popular movie based on it) by Stephen Chbosky might be surprised by his recent foray into a completely different genre—adult horror. Chbosky has been busy in recent years as a screenwriter, but it has been 10 years since the release of that debut YA novel.  It was worth the wait: Chbosky has given readers a marvelous tome of a book with Imaginary Friend.  Reminiscent of the best early works of Stephen King, Imaginary Friend brings back that experience of feverishly whipping through thick and well-worn copies with a combined sense of terror and delight.  The homage to King is obvious, but Chbosky skillfully alludes to his predecessor while bringing a unique perspective and style of his own—one that may even surpass his model.  As the novel opens, Christopher Reese and his mother are moving to Mill Grove as they try to find some reprieve from the string of bad circumstances that followed his father’s death.  The small town appears ideal as a place to hide and begin anew, but of course, it also happens to have a dark history of suspicious and supernatural child disappearances.  Imaginary Friend features the prototypical young boy with special powers that emerge and harness his strong moral core and innate goodness. He is tasked with leading a misfit group of friends in a seemingly hopeless quest to save the world from imminent takeover by an evil force.  Christopher humbly bears responsibility for saving the world and protecting his loved ones, even if it means that he must sacrifice himself.  Chilling and exciting from beginning to end, Chbosky uses this familiar setup to build a story that excels at not only bringing thrills, but also manages to be inspirational and uplifting as well.  The 700+ pages fly by, leaving a breathless reader satisfied but wishing for more. Great for fans of sprawling stories with a large cast of excellently developed characters and anyone who yearns for a book truly worthy of their time.

Susannah Calahan is the author of the bestselling memoir Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness, in which she describes an amazing ordeal in which she was misdiagnosed with a mental illness that was actually autoimmune encephalitis that caused extreme psychotic symptoms.  This experience sparked a curiosity about psychiatric assumptions and the validity of the studies upon which they are based.  The Great Pretender is the result of her obsession with a famous study conducted by David Rosenhan in the 1970s. Rosenhan and other individuals went “undercover” as pseudopatients in mental hospitals, ostensibly to test out their diagnostic systems and evaluate their treatment methodologies.  The results and conclusions of this study, published in Science in 1973, had a profound impact on the practice of psychiatry and called into question many of its essential tenets.  The study remains very controversial: the subjects were kept secret and their notes undisclosed; there are doubts about the tactics used to gather the data, and the conclusions drawn are regarded by many to be faulty.  Calahan explains how her own attempts to clarify what Rosenhan and his other subjects experienced in the institutions only resulted in more ambiguity. It became apparent to the author that there could be some serious issues about Rosenhan’s ethics and motives.  The Great Pretender also describes the development of psychiatry as a specialty that had branched off from other biologically-based medicine after Freud, only to be re-integrated recently with the advent of psychopharmacology and advances in brain research.  Calahan additionally provides a re-examination of other pivotal psychological research studies and evaluates their extensive influence within a branch of medicine that has been traditionally judged as more palliative than curative.  Calahan understandably approaches this subject with a good degree of skepticism about the fallibility of psychiatry and its practices given her own personal experience.  As a result, this book remains very personal as she struggles with frustration in her search for underlying information about Rosenhan’s work and her questions about his integrity as a scientist.  Fascinating as both an historical overview and a critique of psychological research, The Great Pretender can be viewed both an educational text and a compelling mystery as well.

Thanks to the author and Grand Central Publishing for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Those familiar with Lisa Jewell will recognize her penchant for locked doors and secret family connections in her new novel, The Family Upstairs.  Jewell has a flair for portraying extreme family dysfunction in a way that carefully treads the line of credulity, given the outrageousness of its complicated plotting.  In this book, Libby Jones is Jewell’s main heroine: a strait-laced young woman whose life has been meticulously controlled and planned after a chaotic upbringing by a foster mother who was caring but haphazard.  Her organized life is turned upside down, however, when she receives notice that she has reached the age of inheritance from her birth family’s estate.  Libby learns that she is now the owner of the mansion where her parents died of mysterious circumstances almost 25 years ago when she was a baby.  From the articles she has read, investigators assumed that a suicide pact among cult members was the likeliest explanation, and that there were other children in the house who were never located.  She was found abandoned but in good health when the bodies were discovered. What Libby will soon discover is that her acquisition of the house has also spurred others to return to the site with agendas of their own.  Jewell slowly unpeels the true events of the deaths in the house through alternating points-of-view from the children who were party to the events.  With its many twists and connections, unreliable narrators and biases, The Family Upstairs is an addictive read that compels the reader to willingly swallow largely unbelievable plotlines with relish. The novel could be described as a combination of Flowers in the Attic (by VC Andrews) and Helter Skelter (Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry) or other stories of cults/extreme family-based societies.  With an ending that is satisfying but tantalizingly open-ended, Jewell’s latest will provide her fans with some more exciting hours of reading pleasure.

Thanks to the author, Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Kevin Wilson’s most recent novel, Nothing to See Here, is a wonderfully eccentric offering that will appeal to misfits and outcasts of all flavors-flaming or otherwise.  Lillian, the books first-person narrator, is a wholly original character whose sardonic wit and self-deprecation are instantly endearing and compelling.  She is asked by her wealthy and glamorous friend to come work as a caretaker for her husband’s children by a previous marriage.  His previous wife has died, and the twins are now being placed into his unwilling custody.  It seems that the ten-year-olds are a bit of a burden, since they burst into flames whenever they become agitated or upset. Acknowledging that this attribute may complicate his prospects for becoming Secretary of State, it is incumbent upon Lillian to keep them hidden from the public view but still appropriately cared for.  Lillian has a history of sacrificing for her friend, and her deep love for Madison (and lack of any other prospects) compels her to take on the position despite her lack of experience or ability.  Lillian’s propensity for mishap and her lackadaisical attitude turn out to be exactly what is needed in this absurd situation, and the novel depicts her attempts in ways both hilarious and touching.  Wilson is asking a lot of his readers by requiring them to suspend disbelief with a pair of children that can experience spontaneous combustion while remaining unscathed, but it becomes easy with his skillful guidance.  Nothing to See Here is almost cartoonish in its madcap action, and its short length is perfect for a plot that could not be sustained for very long.  From start to finish, the book is laugh-out-loud enjoyable as well as thought-provoking. At its heart, Wilson’s novel entertainingly addresses an issue that all parents face: No one really knows what they are doing when rearing children, and sometimes the best approach is to just experiment with the best of intentions-trying not to self-immolate along the way.

Thanks to the author, ECCO and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

The Grace Year is aptly introduced with quotes from The Handmaids Tale (Margaret Atwood) and Lord of the Flies (William Golding), two classic works that obviously acted as strong inspiration for Kim Liggett’s new novel.  Although marketed as a YA title, The Grace Year would also appeal to adults who enjoy dystopic fantasy along the lines of The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins) or Divergent (Veronica Roth).  The action takes place in either a pre-industrial past or possibly a post-technological future-it is unclear which.  Regardless, is a bleak world in which women outnumber men but are subjugated due to superstition and fear.  Liggett’s narrator is Tierney, a young woman on the verge of adulthood, who is preparing for a ritual practiced in Garner County where she lives with her family.  The Grace Year refers to the rite of passage endured by Garner’s young women who are sent away to a locked encampment for one year. During this time, they are left to fend for themselves as they rid themselves of emerging magical abilities believed to be brought on by adolescence.  Their potential power is highly feared, and the danger inherent in the girls’ emerging sexuality is used as justification for their exile.  Many do not return, and those that do often come back with deep scars-both physical and emotional.  No one knows what happens during their time away, since speaking about the Grace Year is forbidden and punishable by death.  Before they are cast out, the girls are selected by marriageable men and will be consigned to their houses when/if they return.  Male offspring are the priority, and the women who do not produce them are regularly discarded, cast out and replaced by others.  Those who are not married are destined to be servants or are sent beyond the gates of the County to be hunted by predatory men.  Of course, Tierney is very different from the other girls in her Grace Year- she has survival skills she learned from her physician father, keen intelligence and an iron will to resist the path that tradition has paved for her.  When her trial begins, she seems uniquely advantaged, but what she could not have prepared for is the cruelty of her fellow exiles and a mob mentality that can suffocate even the brightest of independent spirits.  The Grace Year is a good example of nice pacing and character development that can often be absent in the ubiquitous landscape of YA dystopic thriller offerings.  Tierney’s adventure and challenges are exciting to follow, and the book’s setting as pitted against its strong feminist viewpoint makes this story at once infuriating and satisfying.  It is unfortunate that the author chooses to position her heroine in ways that are ultimately subservient to the males that assert dominance in her world.  If Ligett is paving the way for a sequel, hopefully Tierney’s story will continue in a way that feels more vindicating for those readers who demand a heroine worthy of admiration and respect.

Thanks to the author, St. Martin’s Books (Wednesday Press) and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Lisa Jewell is a prolific author of gripping contemporary thriller and suspense novels, and her loyal fans have become accustomed to a high caliber of character development and innovative plot twists in her work.  They might be slightly disappointed in picking up Jewell’s Then She Was Gone, a novel published by Atria in 2017.  The book alternates from the time when Ellie-a young intelligent teen admired by all- mysteriously disappears to ten years later after a retrospective televised reenactment is broadcast.  Even though what could be her remains are discovered, the chronology of what occurred long ago remains unclear.  The emotional scars from that day are still close to the surface for Laurel Mack, Ellie’s mother. Over the intervening years, Laurel has become a shell of her former self and continues to be unconvinced by the hasty conclusion made by the initial investigation that Ellie simply ran away from home. Estranged from the remainder of her family, Laurel clings to an idealized image of the daughter she lost. Just when she is beginning to accept a lack of resolution and is ready to move on with her life, she encounters a new man who may not turn out to be the Prince Charming he appears. Questions start to arise about the man’s past, possible motives and ties to a woman who was Ellie’s tutor before she went missing.  Then She Was Gone does have numerous moments that strain credulity and border on the implausible, still, it is a compelling enough story for the reader to forgive these faults. Jewell reliably unspools a twisty tale that will keep even veteran mystery readers gasping with the revelations as the chapters pass.  This title would make a decent choice for a book club or quick read, but those new to Jewell might be better served to begin with Watching You or The Family Upstairs.

With its eye-catching cover and compellingly strange sketches and drawings, Monster, She Wrote: The Women Who Pioneered Horror and Speculative Fiction attracts attention from its opening pages. From there, the authors Lisa Kröger and Melanie R. Anderson proceed to thoroughly entertain and inform those curious enough continue reading about this underexplored topic. Providing historical context, fascinating biographical background and a plethora of reader's advisory information, Monster She Wrote is mandatory for anyone who seeks a deeper understanding of these genres that are typically assumed as dominated by their male authors. Kröger and Anderson's chronology starts with Margaret Cavendish in the 17th century and the advent of speculative fiction and gothic tales, culminating with recent releases—many of which that have sought to revive, expand and modernize some recurring feminist themes over the centuries. The book is divided into eight sections, each with an introduction to a time period or emerging trend accompanied by defining characteristics; a quick bio of its most relevant female writers with recommended reading lists; and suggested supplemental materials related to each. Also sprinkled within are quotes and asides that discuss how women's voices, changing roles and male counterparts contributed to each moment in the genre's history. With their witty and colloquial tone, it is obvious that the authors are both well-informed and passionate about the subject matter. Monster, She Wrote can be enjoyed sequentially or browsed in any order for those seeking to explore the origins of some exceptional horror/speculative fiction or add substantially to their TBR list.

Thanks to the authors, Quirk Books and NetGalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

Detective Ramone is faced with a unique dilemma as he seeks to uncover a murderer-he has too many confessors to the crime and each insist they acted alone. Gina Lamanna's newest offering, Pretty Guilty Women, is buoyed by the wake of other popular thrillers that feature wealthy but troubled women fighting back against oppressive partners. Lamanna's version consists of a series of police interviews with the copious witnesses, followed by short chapters containing that character's contribution to the unspooling storyline. The women in the book are portrayed as angry and powerful in dealing with the men that they are paired who are presented as either completely ineffectual or dangerous. The action takes place in a "closed room" set-up: an elite spa hosting a lavish destination wedding weekend where the murder inconveniently occurs. The main characters are connected by family ties and/or college friendships, all rife with conflict and resentment. Themes include domestic violence, infertility struggles, parental challenges, substance abuse, and resistance to female oppression. These topics have been extensively explored recently in a variety of ways, and it would be a challenge for anyone seeking to present a fresh perspective in an overcrowded and talented field. Lamanna's prior well-loved mystery series are typically more cozy and romance-infused, and that sensibility is apparent here, but it doesn't quite fit the weighty topics she is trying to address. Pretty Guilty Women contains some pulse-raising moments that make it worth the quick time it takes to read, but other contemporary works have already covered this ground-and have done so to greater effect.

Thanks to the author and Sourcebooks for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.

The disappearance of young Neil Spencer seems a little too familiar to DI Pete Willis, who remains tortured by the missing body of a child from one of his cases decades prior. The Whisper Man, by Alex North (the author's name is an alias), is a new thriller that combines elements of the classic copycat serial killer storyline with an added hint of the paranormal. Even though he managed to capture the murderous "Whisper Man," Willis can't escape the guilt he feels for being unable to get closure. His attempts to get the convicted killer to reveal the location of his last victim only allows the murderer to torment him and reinforces Willis' sense of failure. His internal struggles and continuous battle against the addictions that cost him everything make Willis a layered and realistic character. In a parallel story arc, Jake is a contemplative and creative boy whose imaginary friends seem to be more ghostly and tragic than typical playmates. Tom, his novelist father, moves them to Featherbank after the accidental death of Jake's mother. This ineffective attempt is meant to help them both heal by removing themselves from the site of their painful memories. Their new house is deeply connected to the old Whisper Man case, however, and they soon become the target of a new killer whose MO is a mirror of the original. With a crafty imprisoned psychopath with inside knowledge and a misunderstood child/medium, the uncanny coincidences in this thrilling book may be a bit too reminiscent of plotlines from the Silence of the Lambs and "The Sixth Sense." Still, North's novel contains twists and reveals that remain surprisingly fresh, shocking and effective. The interior glimpse of the murderer's mind is cleverly portrayed, and the characters are well-written and genuine. With weighty themes including the "sins of the father", the destructive effects of addiction and abandonment, and redemption through forgiveness and selflessness, The Whisper Man manages to be an above average offering in an otherwise overcrowded genre.

Thanks to the author, NetGalley and MacMillan Publishing for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.