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3.3 AVERAGE
3.3 AVERAGE
This was quite the enjoyable read! The three main characters were really fleshed out, and I understood all of their motivations. Pick this up. It's a good book.
Pretty run of the (grist) mill “there’s more to the story than you think” story - but ultimately I think the problem with this book is that the core crime is just so .... outlandishly stupid.
Matthew, as a character, is written extremely well. As a whole I enjoyed Yates’ writing, aside from a few aesthetic/artistic choices. The story had elements of Stephen King’s “It” and of Ian McEwan’s “Atonement” but honestly - this book never packed the punch of those novels. The “Hannah” (Briony, if you’ve read “Atonement”) character was unsympathetic in every way as both a child and as an adult, and yet the crime Matthew undertook against her was just - bizarre, brutal, and kind of nonsensical when the “truth” of the story was finally described.
McCluskey was a faceless nothing character who existed for no other reason than to constantly utter the infuriating nickname “Aitch” for Hannah, which was one of the two nearly unbearable writing choices Yates’ made - just use the letter “H,” for Christ’s sake! Making it phonetic is so cringeworthy, considering it takes twice as long to parse out that “Aitch” is actually just someone calling Hannah “H.”
The second awful artistic choice was the lack of quotation marks around any dialogue. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - this is an utterly infuriating thing authors do. It’s pretentious in a cringeworthy way and contributes to a foggy confusion that pervades the whole story. It isn’t edgy; it’s fake intellectual, and it keeps any book from achieving a truly good rating if I’m the one reading it.
But I didn’t think this book was a waste, necessarily. Written well, and senselessly tragic, with a rather paltry core conflict, I’d recommend it to people who enjoy reading good writing in this thematic field in one sitting.
Matthew, as a character, is written extremely well. As a whole I enjoyed Yates’ writing, aside from a few aesthetic/artistic choices. The story had elements of Stephen King’s “It” and of Ian McEwan’s “Atonement” but honestly - this book never packed the punch of those novels. The “Hannah” (Briony, if you’ve read “Atonement”) character was unsympathetic in every way as both a child and as an adult, and yet the crime Matthew undertook against her was just - bizarre, brutal, and kind of nonsensical when the “truth” of the story was finally described.
McCluskey was a faceless nothing character who existed for no other reason than to constantly utter the infuriating nickname “Aitch” for Hannah, which was one of the two nearly unbearable writing choices Yates’ made - just use the letter “H,” for Christ’s sake! Making it phonetic is so cringeworthy, considering it takes twice as long to parse out that “Aitch” is actually just someone calling Hannah “H.”
The second awful artistic choice was the lack of quotation marks around any dialogue. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - this is an utterly infuriating thing authors do. It’s pretentious in a cringeworthy way and contributes to a foggy confusion that pervades the whole story. It isn’t edgy; it’s fake intellectual, and it keeps any book from achieving a truly good rating if I’m the one reading it.
But I didn’t think this book was a waste, necessarily. Written well, and senselessly tragic, with a rather paltry core conflict, I’d recommend it to people who enjoy reading good writing in this thematic field in one sitting.
It’s the long, sultry summer of 1982 in a small town in upstate New York. School friends Matthew and Patrick are spending the day up in the Swangum mountains. Nothing about this is unusual – it’s where they’ve whiled away many summer days past.
‘I loved it in the Swangums, the summer of ‘81 one of the best of my life, me and Tricky spinning up the hill together and gazing down at shadows, the clouds in the sky painting dark lakes on the earth and our friendship growing little by little as we played our own games, turning life into a daily adventure.’
…But the events of this particular day in ’82 will irrevocably change their lives. Rather than indulging in the innocent games of two teenagers, their escapades that afternoon end in a brutal, horrific crime involving their female classmate, Hannah.
Fast forward to 2008; Patrick is adrift in New York, recently jobless, and feeling like a spare part next to his successful crime-journalist wife. The incident in the Swangums continues to haunt him, paralysed by the memory of what he did – or didn’t – do. Pushing aside the resurfacing trauma becomes all but impossible when a figure from his past returns – Matthew. What could he possibly want, after all these years?
As we hear the narrative from Patrick, Matthew and Hannah’s perspective, it slowly dawns on the reader that not is quite all it appears. With dexterity, the story puts forward a clear cut sequence of events – only to slowly dismantle it as the novel unfolds. The line of good and evil, hero and villain becomes ever more blurred as we hear not only what happened that hazy afternoon, but all the events that led up to that very moment.
‘The reality is there are more than two sides to most stories. Truth is seldom a lens, truth is a kaleidoscope, and I have my truth too.’
This is a masterful thriller; taut and suspenseful, with real, complex characters. It’s the kind of book you have to clear your diary for; an intense read with an intelligent narrative that is hard to put down. A promising talent, and I look forward to reading Yates’ acclaimed debut Black Chalk.
‘I loved it in the Swangums, the summer of ‘81 one of the best of my life, me and Tricky spinning up the hill together and gazing down at shadows, the clouds in the sky painting dark lakes on the earth and our friendship growing little by little as we played our own games, turning life into a daily adventure.’
…But the events of this particular day in ’82 will irrevocably change their lives. Rather than indulging in the innocent games of two teenagers, their escapades that afternoon end in a brutal, horrific crime involving their female classmate, Hannah.
Fast forward to 2008; Patrick is adrift in New York, recently jobless, and feeling like a spare part next to his successful crime-journalist wife. The incident in the Swangums continues to haunt him, paralysed by the memory of what he did – or didn’t – do. Pushing aside the resurfacing trauma becomes all but impossible when a figure from his past returns – Matthew. What could he possibly want, after all these years?
As we hear the narrative from Patrick, Matthew and Hannah’s perspective, it slowly dawns on the reader that not is quite all it appears. With dexterity, the story puts forward a clear cut sequence of events – only to slowly dismantle it as the novel unfolds. The line of good and evil, hero and villain becomes ever more blurred as we hear not only what happened that hazy afternoon, but all the events that led up to that very moment.
‘The reality is there are more than two sides to most stories. Truth is seldom a lens, truth is a kaleidoscope, and I have my truth too.’
This is a masterful thriller; taut and suspenseful, with real, complex characters. It’s the kind of book you have to clear your diary for; an intense read with an intelligent narrative that is hard to put down. A promising talent, and I look forward to reading Yates’ acclaimed debut Black Chalk.
This book really didn't end up where I thought it would. It wasn't nearly as dark as I feared; the characters could be anyone you know, and the twisty plot is all the more impressive because it *doesn't* rely on heavily on shock and sensationalism like some suspense fiction does.
I really wanted to like this book. Started well, then fell off and I struggled getting into it...then it took off again. Overall, it wasn’t horrible, but it didn’t make me wish I could have a day to do nothing but read. Hence the 3 stars. There is better, but there is much worse too. Took me a long time to review it, so I’m guessing that means that I didn’t either love or hate it.
I will start this review out by saying that this book will not be for everybody. It has very dark undertones. It also discusses very heavy subjects. I believe these days they would say that this book needs "trigger warnings". As an Empath, these books are very hard for me, but I push through because I want to understand. I will always want to understand what makes people do the things they do. The good and the bad. I enjoyed this book very much.
There are three parts of the book. Each of the main characters has their own part in the book. It explains the event that took place from their perspective. I can't say that I connected with any of the three without giving away major parts of the story. I can say that there is power in perspective and leave it at that.
Despite how heavy and depressing this book tended to get, I really did enjoy the story. It was definitely a book I wanted answers to. My advice is to keep reading. Unless it's just too hard to keep going. It's okay to put a book down if it's too hard. This is definitely a book that things aren't always what they seem. I can't say much more than that without giving it away.
There are three parts of the book. Each of the main characters has their own part in the book. It explains the event that took place from their perspective. I can't say that I connected with any of the three without giving away major parts of the story. I can say that there is power in perspective and leave it at that.
Despite how heavy and depressing this book tended to get, I really did enjoy the story. It was definitely a book I wanted answers to. My advice is to keep reading. Unless it's just too hard to keep going. It's okay to put a book down if it's too hard. This is definitely a book that things aren't always what they seem. I can't say much more than that without giving it away.
I did not think this was great, but I should no better. I much prefer police procedurals, not this type of mystery. I found myself skimming ahead just to get the plot points, but I wasn't particularly invested in the characters.
Argh. I think this book has ended up on many 'books to read if you like scary stuff' because of the intricate description of the violence at the beginning. And yes, it is full on, and if you don't like detailed description of violence, you won't be able to make it past the first chapter.
The book goes between 1982 and 2008 timelines, and rather unfortunately, the 2008 chapters really plod along. There is so much minutiae where I just didn't care about what was going on. Super super micro accounts of gastronomy, sous videing steaks and what not.... I just didn't care enough to appreciate the detail that was being put into here.
This affected the narrative so much that by the time the 'twist' or the climax came to a head, there was so much padding that I was uninvested in the characters and the outcome, and thus, uninterested.
I finished the book only for being stubborn and to challenge myself since I was due to return it back to the library and it became a CAN I FINISH IT IN TIME thing. If that hadn't been a pressure, I wouldn't have finished it.
The book goes between 1982 and 2008 timelines, and rather unfortunately, the 2008 chapters really plod along. There is so much minutiae where I just didn't care about what was going on. Super super micro accounts of gastronomy, sous videing steaks and what not.... I just didn't care enough to appreciate the detail that was being put into here.
This affected the narrative so much that by the time the 'twist' or the climax came to a head, there was so much padding that I was uninvested in the characters and the outcome, and thus, uninterested.
I finished the book only for being stubborn and to challenge myself since I was due to return it back to the library and it became a CAN I FINISH IT IN TIME thing. If that hadn't been a pressure, I wouldn't have finished it.
wow. ok. i know i said i shouldn’t read these kinds of books at night and well what can i say but that i’m a dumb bitch? but this one was less depressing than black chalk, certainly, at least in its vibe. maybe more so in subject matter. yates has a flair for unraveling storylines, that’s for sure, the plot of this one imo is much better done than in black chalk. it’s gone girl-esque, you start out with one judgement, you end entirely with another. it’s one of those stories that you wanna go back and reread with the knowledge that you now have. i feel like it’s that kind of formula that yates was going for in black chalk, but here he got the punch of it right. and speaking of formula, grist mill road is very similar to black chalk in its back-and-forth ness, the writing of a story, the punctuation of present vs. past, etcetera. but i think he did a good enough job of making it different from black chalk, although i do kind of want to see something from him in a different format. twice is probably enough. technically, it’s close to perfect, the unraveling is brilliant, the reveal of deeper motives, all that plot driving, it’s all really well done. well paced. except for the ending. this man and his endings. he just can’t do it right. it’s like he doesn’t want to overdo it but ends up underdoing it instead. i just wanna know what happens, chris, just let me know, for god’s sake. other than that...technically it’s brilliant.
ON THE OTHER HAND (and spoilers begin....now) I have mixed feelings about him using matthew being gay as such a major driving plot point. and using hannah’s calling him a f***** to justify his snapping. like...sure, cycle of abuse, the built up rage against his father, the jumped up hormones, but i refuse to believe that this boy who was beaten so often and fell in love with a park ranger and finally pushed his father off a cliff in a quite rational frame of mind just simply snapped at this one thing. like...not to get specific and personal but...from my experience and from the text directly, matthew’s a kid with a fuckload of self control. & it just seemed like yates wrote his first scene and spent the rest of the book building up this amazing backstory but forgot to connect the two. & i understand that words have power and matthew has a history of violence and hannah’s not entirely a person that he’s not resentful towards but even so. it was a hard leap for me to make.
& speaking more directly to matthew and pete. on the one hand, sure, pete thought he was close to adulthood so maybe like he’s not TOTALLY a pedophile, whatever, you tried, but also what the fuck yates you really had to use the most tired gay trope in the book? like really truly you had to have the old ass park ranger fall in love with the young impressionable teenager? who eventually ends up dead, years down the road, but nonetheless dead & mustered essentially all for this act of love? like if this book existed in a vaccuum then yeah. i’d have no problem with it. it’s a book about flawed human beings who make mistakes and fall in love and yeah sometimes you can’t control that shit. but media is not in a vaccuum and this kind of trope is all too prevalent & it’s just fucking exhausting to witness, honestly. & yeah it’s beautifully executed & wonderfully written & the characters are compelling and complex and deeply human and yet, and yet, this book leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. maybe it’s because lately i’ve been reminded constantly of my place in this world as a queer person & more specifically the extra barriers and fucking emotional bullshit that i personally am facing in the next few weeks because of who i am, and maybe it’s because pride is coming up, and maybe it’s just because i’m tired of this bullshit. yates is, as far as i know, straight, and too often straight authors use queerness as if it’s a handy plot point to give their characters more tragedy. i think that’s what pisses me off the most. that queerness is suffocatingly used and depicted only as a bringer of tragedy and suffering. like, yeah, no shit! i know that! we all fucking live that every day! but there’s also so many good things about being queer that are just brushed over in favor of the tortured tragic ideal. write me a story about the way it feels when you see someone and recognize yourself for the first time in your life. write me a story about realizing that you want your future, that you can see it, that you were afraid it would be impossible but it’s actually within your reach to be happy and also be yourself. write me a fucking story about listening to people, your people, and realizing that you’re not alone. don’t give me this tragic bullshit.
& yeah, ok, whatever, it’s meant to be a tragic book, it’s a crime thriller, whatever, whatever, but that doesn’t require you to throw in harmful stereotypes and slurs. be more fucking mindful of the stories and people that you use for the sake of creating tragedy. i loved matthew, i felt for him, i ached for him, i might reread this book if only to spend more time with him, but i’ve got serious beef with yates over this.
& while we’re at it, that anniversary steak thing? what the fuck. too chewy for foreplay, my man. you know how long it takes to eat a whole fucking steak, even if it’s tender? and also, tables are hard. lie down on the couch or something.
ON THE OTHER HAND (and spoilers begin....now) I have mixed feelings about him using matthew being gay as such a major driving plot point. and using hannah’s calling him a f***** to justify his snapping. like...sure, cycle of abuse, the built up rage against his father, the jumped up hormones, but i refuse to believe that this boy who was beaten so often and fell in love with a park ranger and finally pushed his father off a cliff in a quite rational frame of mind just simply snapped at this one thing. like...not to get specific and personal but...from my experience and from the text directly, matthew’s a kid with a fuckload of self control. & it just seemed like yates wrote his first scene and spent the rest of the book building up this amazing backstory but forgot to connect the two. & i understand that words have power and matthew has a history of violence and hannah’s not entirely a person that he’s not resentful towards but even so. it was a hard leap for me to make.
& speaking more directly to matthew and pete. on the one hand, sure, pete thought he was close to adulthood so maybe like he’s not TOTALLY a pedophile, whatever, you tried, but also what the fuck yates you really had to use the most tired gay trope in the book? like really truly you had to have the old ass park ranger fall in love with the young impressionable teenager? who eventually ends up dead, years down the road, but nonetheless dead & mustered essentially all for this act of love? like if this book existed in a vaccuum then yeah. i’d have no problem with it. it’s a book about flawed human beings who make mistakes and fall in love and yeah sometimes you can’t control that shit. but media is not in a vaccuum and this kind of trope is all too prevalent & it’s just fucking exhausting to witness, honestly. & yeah it’s beautifully executed & wonderfully written & the characters are compelling and complex and deeply human and yet, and yet, this book leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. maybe it’s because lately i’ve been reminded constantly of my place in this world as a queer person & more specifically the extra barriers and fucking emotional bullshit that i personally am facing in the next few weeks because of who i am, and maybe it’s because pride is coming up, and maybe it’s just because i’m tired of this bullshit. yates is, as far as i know, straight, and too often straight authors use queerness as if it’s a handy plot point to give their characters more tragedy. i think that’s what pisses me off the most. that queerness is suffocatingly used and depicted only as a bringer of tragedy and suffering. like, yeah, no shit! i know that! we all fucking live that every day! but there’s also so many good things about being queer that are just brushed over in favor of the tortured tragic ideal. write me a story about the way it feels when you see someone and recognize yourself for the first time in your life. write me a story about realizing that you want your future, that you can see it, that you were afraid it would be impossible but it’s actually within your reach to be happy and also be yourself. write me a fucking story about listening to people, your people, and realizing that you’re not alone. don’t give me this tragic bullshit.
& yeah, ok, whatever, it’s meant to be a tragic book, it’s a crime thriller, whatever, whatever, but that doesn’t require you to throw in harmful stereotypes and slurs. be more fucking mindful of the stories and people that you use for the sake of creating tragedy. i loved matthew, i felt for him, i ached for him, i might reread this book if only to spend more time with him, but i’ve got serious beef with yates over this.
& while we’re at it, that anniversary steak thing? what the fuck. too chewy for foreplay, my man. you know how long it takes to eat a whole fucking steak, even if it’s tender? and also, tables are hard. lie down on the couch or something.