This is both a strange book and a strange book to read at this given moment. It’s clear that there will be a rushed second edition with additional updates, and I bet that book will be a more satisfying read.
I should start off that this is one of those books that I worry that my reading it will make the internet mad at me.
This book is very interesting, and mostly doesn’t hold together. When a fiction author dies, and they leave an unfinished book, the result is also usually an unsatisfying read, but one that involves a really interesting venture into what-if territory. But because this book data into a criminal investigation, the unfinished nature of it (while perfectly natural had the author had a chance to complete her thoughts on it, sort through the information, and present either a case we could speculate on or the natural resolution of an unfinished investigation, that would be one thing) makes it not a book that comes to any meaningful conclusion. Even with the additional section written by the research team, there’s nothing closely resembling a resolution–criminally or emotionally. And because I don’t otherwise trust the posthumous publication of this and from what I am able to glean about Michelle NcNamara from her writing here, I don’t think this even closely resembles the book that would have come from her investigation.
But, because of the very public nature of her death and the very lovable and loving qualities of her famous husband, and now the very interesting public arrest of what seems quite likely to the be the killer, this book stands out. There’s definite influence on the case here, but by the end of the book, they’re not very close to catching anyone. And while it’s definitely likely this book contributing at least the name lent to the case, this book is a very artifact that stands alongside the investigation, but is not necessarily a factor in it.