I am a sucker for a British thriller. And this one is pretty much ok. It’s perfectly suited to a non-taxing reading or reading event. There’s not a whole to say about depth or intrigue or anything else. But it’s competently-written and competently plotted, and won’t be a book for the ages, like I think Gone Girl is, but it could be the start of a perfectly solid career. If Ruth Ware stops writing books, she will likely be forgotten as a writer in due time. But if she keeps it up, this will be one of a career of perfectly adequate thrillers.
So what is this? Nora has been inexplicably invited to her old childhood friend’s hen party, which for us Yanks is a bachelorette party. I was kind of hoping for like a dark, edgy version of The Hangover, but instead, murder aside, this is pretty tame overall. Her friend pulls her in, it seems off, but ok, and if you’re an introvert, it’s easy to just assume that the awkwardness of ANY hen do is enough of a turn off. Early into the weekend she finds out that her friends is marrying her ex.
So here’s the first part where this book was nonsense to me…it gets a little better in terms of motivation….but if you’re 26, I don’t give a crap if you’re still hung up on a high school boyfriend. But whatever, the author figures out a way to make it ok.
Also, there’s zero zero zero reason to make the main character a thriller writer. Zero. But she is, and it’s never important to the plot.
So anyway, this book, if I am being generous, is more Agatha Christie than Tana French. It’s a puzzlebox and not a very complicated one. There are characters and I guess they have characteristics, but none is super compelling. You kind of just have to go with it I guess.