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3.48 AVERAGE
3.48 AVERAGE
It was just so long winded and boring. The descriptions were so detailed and went on for ages. Just felt disjointed and not really interesting overall
SUCH POTENTIAL.
2.5 star read.
Ok - so this book read like an entire "House of Cards" season (and you could mix the original British version with the American version to really hit what this book was like) and an episode of "Silk" - basically, it read like it should be on television and not so much a novel.
So many little subplots, which were all really really well developed and described ... but overly so. Sarah Vaughan described everything to the point that I felt like I was being ambushed with words. Her editor should have cut out paragraphs and pages - we still would have gotten the same meaning, but not as drawn out or repetitive.
Kate - the barrister who reminded me of the main character from "Silk" - is prosecuting a young, handsome, charismatic Minister of the Crown, James, of raping his assistant ... a claim that is further complicated by the fact that they (James and his assistant) did have an affair, and the claim of rape was once he had called off their relationship. Kate specializes in rape and sexual assault cases, and you have to wonder, what happened to her to make her take on such difficult and emotionally trying cases?
James - the young Minister, best friend to the Prime Minister, who never has to answer for his actions and assumes that everything he touches will turn to gold. Has he met his match? Or will he be able to convince a jury of his peers that what happened in the elevator between him and the victim was nothing more than an aggressive sexual encounter, consented by both parties?
Sophie - James' wife and keeper of his secrets. This trial brings up memories of their past at Oxford, while also forcing her to question if her life is really what it appears to be, if her husband and their relationship really is as solid and loving as she believed it to be.
And then we have the subplot of Holly - Sophie's English literature partner at Oxford, who has a mild crush on the handsome James, but is far too shy and inexperienced to ever approach him. Holly is the character that helps move along the past story-line (that implicate Sophie and James as well).
All of the characters were well developed, they all had unique perspectives, were able to bring a depth to the plot - my issue is really with the fact that this novel should have been paired down. With a little more restraint it could have been a really solid mystery. Instead it just got lost in its own words.
Thank you Netgalley for providing me with an advanced copy in return for an honest review.
2.5 star read.
Ok - so this book read like an entire "House of Cards" season (and you could mix the original British version with the American version to really hit what this book was like) and an episode of "Silk" - basically, it read like it should be on television and not so much a novel.
So many little subplots, which were all really really well developed and described ... but overly so. Sarah Vaughan described everything to the point that I felt like I was being ambushed with words. Her editor should have cut out paragraphs and pages - we still would have gotten the same meaning, but not as drawn out or repetitive.
Kate - the barrister who reminded me of the main character from "Silk" - is prosecuting a young, handsome, charismatic Minister of the Crown, James, of raping his assistant ... a claim that is further complicated by the fact that they (James and his assistant) did have an affair, and the claim of rape was once he had called off their relationship. Kate specializes in rape and sexual assault cases, and you have to wonder, what happened to her to make her take on such difficult and emotionally trying cases?
James - the young Minister, best friend to the Prime Minister, who never has to answer for his actions and assumes that everything he touches will turn to gold. Has he met his match? Or will he be able to convince a jury of his peers that what happened in the elevator between him and the victim was nothing more than an aggressive sexual encounter, consented by both parties?
Sophie - James' wife and keeper of his secrets. This trial brings up memories of their past at Oxford, while also forcing her to question if her life is really what it appears to be, if her husband and their relationship really is as solid and loving as she believed it to be.
And then we have the subplot of Holly - Sophie's English literature partner at Oxford, who has a mild crush on the handsome James, but is far too shy and inexperienced to ever approach him. Holly is the character that helps move along the past story-line (that implicate Sophie and James as well).
All of the characters were well developed, they all had unique perspectives, were able to bring a depth to the plot - my issue is really with the fact that this novel should have been paired down. With a little more restraint it could have been a really solid mystery. Instead it just got lost in its own words.
Thank you Netgalley for providing me with an advanced copy in return for an honest review.
3.5 - rounded up. I’m looking forward to watching the Netflix mini series now and comparing the book to that while still fresh in my mind.
Thank you to net galley for the free copy of this excellent book. The storyline follows the golden and protected life of James Whitehouse, politician and close friend of the prime minister as he is accused of rape. The whole story is much deeper than this and Vaughan unearths in bit by bit in beautiful prose. She captures completely the minute of how such an accusation and the following trial "feel" for each of the characters. I felt almost as if I was living it. The characterisation is flawless and the reader loves and hates in almost equal measure. Just occasionally the author brings out her Journalistic background by using descriptive words certainly not in my repertoire - need to get the dictionary out.
However this book really pleased from beginning to end - I loved the way she describes a sunset " mango sorbet shot through with raspberry ripple" and the effects of a revelation" the room sways, the edges becoming less defined as the boundaries of their lives give way.
I would definitely read more from this author
However this book really pleased from beginning to end - I loved the way she describes a sunset " mango sorbet shot through with raspberry ripple" and the effects of a revelation" the room sways, the edges becoming less defined as the boundaries of their lives give way.
I would definitely read more from this author
****I received a copy of this arc through a Goodreads Giveaway in exchange for an honest review!****
This book grabbed me and dragged me in right away. I love a good legal thriller that can really ramp up the drama and keep me on my toes without sacrificing having realistic characters or being grounded in realistic law proceedings.
I also find that a good book will always make me kind of angry at times, because let's be real, actual people make terrible decisions or can be really dense when it comes to the actual feelings, thoughts and motives of others, especially those that are supposedly closest to us. So why shouldn't the characters we read about be as flawed as we often are? Because of this, I really think the characterization of these people is where this book really excels.
I don't think anyone could get through this book without being completely at the mercy of the emotional rollercoaster that Vaughan has crafted here. You'll be angry, that anger will shift from person to person, and you'll be sad and happy, too. And love every second of it.
This book grabbed me and dragged me in right away. I love a good legal thriller that can really ramp up the drama and keep me on my toes without sacrificing having realistic characters or being grounded in realistic law proceedings.
I also find that a good book will always make me kind of angry at times, because let's be real, actual people make terrible decisions or can be really dense when it comes to the actual feelings, thoughts and motives of others, especially those that are supposedly closest to us. So why shouldn't the characters we read about be as flawed as we often are? Because of this, I really think the characterization of these people is where this book really excels.
I don't think anyone could get through this book without being completely at the mercy of the emotional rollercoaster that Vaughan has crafted here. You'll be angry, that anger will shift from person to person, and you'll be sad and happy, too. And love every second of it.
This is a hefty novel that approaches 400 pages dealing with some very in-depth character perceptions dealing with a case of rape. The he said, she said moments are not only extremely well-written, but the amount of time and effort spent on each characters acknowledgement of certain events and the details that not only led up to the even, but ultimately made them who they are are harrowing and brutally realistic. This is a story told from the perspectives of multiple women connected to the case and like a spiderweb, intertwined by their pasts.
While the plot to this one is rather wordy and the pacing is slow, this is a novel listed as Contemporary Fiction, but I would consider a psychological thriller and easily one of the best I have ever read. The mixed reviews made me a little iffy at first, but I'm glad I went with my gut instinct and dove right in. Yes, it's wordy. Yes, the pacing is slow at first, but remember this is a psychological thriller. There is not going to be a ridiculous amount of plot twists. This is simply a story that tells how these characters were made to be who they are today and the monsters that hide inside all of us. Told from the main perspectives of Sophie, who's husband is being accused of raping a woman that he had recently ended an affair with, Kate, the prosecutor, and Holly. Now, Holly's chapters were the most interesting for me to read as they told a story of a young girl in college who is semi-friends with Sophie and gets to see their relationship blossom into what will later become a lengthy marriage. These perspectives are gripping, haunting, and ultimately extremely well-written. You get a true insight into who these people are and Vaughan does a fantastic job of building characters that take this storyline from the ground up.
In regards to the plot, I really loved having the chance to read a unique and poignant psychological thriller that has a ton of characterization, a plot we've all seen ripped from the headlines, and get an insiders look into the drama, the scheming, and the reality of what happens in a high profile case. After about 200 pages in, I literally couldn't stop. Don't get me wrong, the first 200 were very interesting and the plot flowed without a hiccup, but the darkness and the plot twists really start to escalate within the second half of the novel. I had some sort of inkling as to where this story would head and I was proven wrong by Vaughan's flawless efforts in directing the reader in one direction and then yanking them back to reality. Not only is this a highly prized psychological thriller, courtroom drama, and literary genius tale of fiction, but it's a story that is not only both haunting and intriguingly effective. I was entertained, saddened, and mystified until the very end with a final chapter that not only left me highly satisfied, but chilled me to the core.
*I received a copy of this novel from Atria Books in exchange for my honest review.
While the plot to this one is rather wordy and the pacing is slow, this is a novel listed as Contemporary Fiction, but I would consider a psychological thriller and easily one of the best I have ever read. The mixed reviews made me a little iffy at first, but I'm glad I went with my gut instinct and dove right in. Yes, it's wordy. Yes, the pacing is slow at first, but remember this is a psychological thriller. There is not going to be a ridiculous amount of plot twists. This is simply a story that tells how these characters were made to be who they are today and the monsters that hide inside all of us. Told from the main perspectives of Sophie, who's husband is being accused of raping a woman that he had recently ended an affair with, Kate, the prosecutor, and Holly. Now, Holly's chapters were the most interesting for me to read as they told a story of a young girl in college who is semi-friends with Sophie and gets to see their relationship blossom into what will later become a lengthy marriage. These perspectives are gripping, haunting, and ultimately extremely well-written. You get a true insight into who these people are and Vaughan does a fantastic job of building characters that take this storyline from the ground up.
In regards to the plot, I really loved having the chance to read a unique and poignant psychological thriller that has a ton of characterization, a plot we've all seen ripped from the headlines, and get an insiders look into the drama, the scheming, and the reality of what happens in a high profile case. After about 200 pages in, I literally couldn't stop. Don't get me wrong, the first 200 were very interesting and the plot flowed without a hiccup, but the darkness and the plot twists really start to escalate within the second half of the novel. I had some sort of inkling as to where this story would head and I was proven wrong by Vaughan's flawless efforts in directing the reader in one direction and then yanking them back to reality. Not only is this a highly prized psychological thriller, courtroom drama, and literary genius tale of fiction, but it's a story that is not only both haunting and intriguingly effective. I was entertained, saddened, and mystified until the very end with a final chapter that not only left me highly satisfied, but chilled me to the core.
*I received a copy of this novel from Atria Books in exchange for my honest review.
My Review Of
Anatomy Of A Scandal
This took awhile for me to get into but once I did it unfolded beautifully. It read more like a mystery to me. The plot was well developed as were the characters although I admit I was not overly fond of them. I loved to hate some of the characters in this book. I did have a hard time getting through some parts of this book but it was a solid read for me. It really brings into question how much would you cover up and or stand by your spouse if you think or know that they are guilty of an awful crime.
James was not one of my favorite characters and I thought Sophie needed a backbone at times. The writing was superb, the plot did keep me interested and on my toes. I look forward to this authors next book.
Read An Excerpt:
My wig slumps on my desk where I have tossed it. A beached
jellyfish. Out of court, I am careless with this crucial part of
my wardrobe, showing it the opposite of what it should command:
respect. Handmade from horsehair and worth nearly
six hundred pounds, I want it to age; to accrue the gravitas I
sometimes fear I lack. For the hairline to yellow with years
of perspiration, the tight, cream curls to relax or to grey with
dust. Nineteen years since I was called to the Bar, my wig is
still that of a conscientious new girl – not a barrister who has
inherited it from her, or more usually his, father. That’s the
sort of wig I want: one dulled with the patina of tradition,
entitlement and age.
I kick off my shoes: black patent courts with gold braid
on the front, shoes for a Regency fop; for Parliament’s Black
Rod; or a female barrister who delights in the history, the
rigmarole, the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Expensive shoes
are important. Chatting with fellow counsel or clients, with
ushers and police, we all look down from time to time so as
not to appear confrontational. Anyone who glances at my
shoes sees someone who understands this quirk of human
psychology and who takes herself seriously. They see a
woman who dresses as if she believes she will win.
I like to look the part, you see. To do things properly.
Female barristers can wear a collarette: a scrap of cotton and
lace that acts like a bib – a false front that goes just around
the neck – and that costs around thirty pounds. Or they can
dress as I do: a white collarless tunic with a collar attached
by collar studs to the front and back. Cuff links. A black wool
jacket and skirt or trousers; and – depending on their success
and seniority – a black wool or wool and silk gown.
I’m not wearing all of that now. I have shed part of my
disguise in the robing room of the Bailey. Robes off. Collar
and cuffs undone; my medium-length blonde hair – tied back
in a ponytail in court – released from its bobble; just a little
mussed up.
I am more feminine, shed of my garb. With my wig on and
my heavy-rimmed glasses, I know I look asexual. Certainly
not attractive – though you may note my cheekbones: two
sharp blades that emerged in my twenties and have hardened
and sharpened, as I have hardened and sharpened,
over the years.
I am more myself without the wig. More me. The me I am
at heart, not the me I present to the court or any previous
incarnations of my personality. This is me: Kate Woodcroft,
QC; criminal barrister; member of the Inner Temple; a
highly experienced specialist in prosecuting sexual crimes.
Forty-two years old; divorced, single, childless. I rest my
head in my hands for a moment and let a breath ease out
of me in one long flow, willing myself just to give up for a
minute. It’s no good. I can’t relax. I’ve a small patch of eczema
on my wrist and I smear E45 cream there, resisting the desire
to scratch it. To scratch at my dissatisfaction with life.
Instead, I look up at the high ceilings of my chambers. A
set of rooms in an oasis of calm in the very heart of London.
Eighteenth-century, with ornate cornicing, gold leaf around
the ceiling rose and a view – through the towering sash
windows – of Inner Temple’s courtyard and the round
twelfth-century Temple Church.
This is my world. Archaic, anachronistic, privileged,
exclusive. Everything I should – and normally would – profess
to hate. And yet I love it. I love it because all this – this
nest of buildings at the edge of the City, tucked off the Strand
and flowing down towards the river; the pomp and the hierarchy;
the status, history and tradition – is something I once
never knew existed; and to which I never thought I could
aspire. All of this shows how far I have come.
It’s the reason that, if I’m not with my colleagues, I slip
a hot chocolate – with extra sachets of sugar – to the girl
hunched in her sleeping bag in a doorway on the Strand
whenever I grab a cappuccino. Most people won’t have
noticed her. The homeless are good at being invisible or we
are good at making them so: averting our eyes from their
khaki sleeping bags; their grey faces and matted hair; their
bodies bundled in oversized jumpers and their equally
skinny wolfhounds as we scurry past on our way to the
seductive glitz of Covent Garden or the cultural thrills of the
South Bank.
But hang around any court for a while and you will see
just how precarious life can be. How your world can come
tumbling down all too rapidly if you make the wrong call:
if, just for one fatal split second, you behave unlawfully. Or
rather, if you are poor and you break the law. For courts, like
hospitals, are magnets for those dealt a rough hand from the
start of life; who choose the wrong men or the wrong mates
and become so mired in bad fortune that they lose their
moral compass. The rich aren’t quite as affected. Look at tax
avoidance – or fraud, as it might be called if perpetrated by
someone without the benefit of a skilled accountant. Bad
luck – or lack of acumen – doesn’t seem to dog the rich quite
as assiduously as the poor.
Oh, I’m in a bad mood. You can tell I’m in a bad mood
when I start thinking like a student politician. Most of the
time I keep my Guardian-reading tendencies to myself. They
can sit oddly with the more traditional members of my
chambers; make for heated discussions at formal dinners,
as we eat the sort of mass-catered food you might get at
weddings – chicken, or salmon en croute – and drink our
equally mediocre wine. Far more diplomatic to limit oneself
to legal gossip: which QC is receiving so little work they’re
applying to be a Crown Court judge; who will next be made....
This review was originally posted on My Fiction Obsession
jellyfish. Out of court, I am careless with this crucial part of
my wardrobe, showing it the opposite of what it should command:
respect. Handmade from horsehair and worth nearly
six hundred pounds, I want it to age; to accrue the gravitas I
sometimes fear I lack. For the hairline to yellow with years
of perspiration, the tight, cream curls to relax or to grey with
dust. Nineteen years since I was called to the Bar, my wig is
still that of a conscientious new girl – not a barrister who has
inherited it from her, or more usually his, father. That’s the
sort of wig I want: one dulled with the patina of tradition,
entitlement and age.
I kick off my shoes: black patent courts with gold braid
on the front, shoes for a Regency fop; for Parliament’s Black
Rod; or a female barrister who delights in the history, the
rigmarole, the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Expensive shoes
are important. Chatting with fellow counsel or clients, with
ushers and police, we all look down from time to time so as
not to appear confrontational. Anyone who glances at my
shoes sees someone who understands this quirk of human
psychology and who takes herself seriously. They see a
woman who dresses as if she believes she will win.
I like to look the part, you see. To do things properly.
Female barristers can wear a collarette: a scrap of cotton and
lace that acts like a bib – a false front that goes just around
the neck – and that costs around thirty pounds. Or they can
dress as I do: a white collarless tunic with a collar attached
by collar studs to the front and back. Cuff links. A black wool
jacket and skirt or trousers; and – depending on their success
and seniority – a black wool or wool and silk gown.
I’m not wearing all of that now. I have shed part of my
disguise in the robing room of the Bailey. Robes off. Collar
and cuffs undone; my medium-length blonde hair – tied back
in a ponytail in court – released from its bobble; just a little
mussed up.
I am more feminine, shed of my garb. With my wig on and
my heavy-rimmed glasses, I know I look asexual. Certainly
not attractive – though you may note my cheekbones: two
sharp blades that emerged in my twenties and have hardened
and sharpened, as I have hardened and sharpened,
over the years.
I am more myself without the wig. More me. The me I am
at heart, not the me I present to the court or any previous
incarnations of my personality. This is me: Kate Woodcroft,
QC; criminal barrister; member of the Inner Temple; a
highly experienced specialist in prosecuting sexual crimes.
Forty-two years old; divorced, single, childless. I rest my
head in my hands for a moment and let a breath ease out
of me in one long flow, willing myself just to give up for a
minute. It’s no good. I can’t relax. I’ve a small patch of eczema
on my wrist and I smear E45 cream there, resisting the desire
to scratch it. To scratch at my dissatisfaction with life.
Instead, I look up at the high ceilings of my chambers. A
set of rooms in an oasis of calm in the very heart of London.
Eighteenth-century, with ornate cornicing, gold leaf around
the ceiling rose and a view – through the towering sash
windows – of Inner Temple’s courtyard and the round
twelfth-century Temple Church.
This is my world. Archaic, anachronistic, privileged,
exclusive. Everything I should – and normally would – profess
to hate. And yet I love it. I love it because all this – this
nest of buildings at the edge of the City, tucked off the Strand
and flowing down towards the river; the pomp and the hierarchy;
the status, history and tradition – is something I once
never knew existed; and to which I never thought I could
aspire. All of this shows how far I have come.
It’s the reason that, if I’m not with my colleagues, I slip
a hot chocolate – with extra sachets of sugar – to the girl
hunched in her sleeping bag in a doorway on the Strand
whenever I grab a cappuccino. Most people won’t have
noticed her. The homeless are good at being invisible or we
are good at making them so: averting our eyes from their
khaki sleeping bags; their grey faces and matted hair; their
bodies bundled in oversized jumpers and their equally
skinny wolfhounds as we scurry past on our way to the
seductive glitz of Covent Garden or the cultural thrills of the
South Bank.
But hang around any court for a while and you will see
just how precarious life can be. How your world can come
tumbling down all too rapidly if you make the wrong call:
if, just for one fatal split second, you behave unlawfully. Or
rather, if you are poor and you break the law. For courts, like
hospitals, are magnets for those dealt a rough hand from the
start of life; who choose the wrong men or the wrong mates
and become so mired in bad fortune that they lose their
moral compass. The rich aren’t quite as affected. Look at tax
avoidance – or fraud, as it might be called if perpetrated by
someone without the benefit of a skilled accountant. Bad
luck – or lack of acumen – doesn’t seem to dog the rich quite
as assiduously as the poor.
Oh, I’m in a bad mood. You can tell I’m in a bad mood
when I start thinking like a student politician. Most of the
time I keep my Guardian-reading tendencies to myself. They
can sit oddly with the more traditional members of my
chambers; make for heated discussions at formal dinners,
as we eat the sort of mass-catered food you might get at
weddings – chicken, or salmon en croute – and drink our
equally mediocre wine. Far more diplomatic to limit oneself
to legal gossip: which QC is receiving so little work they’re
applying to be a Crown Court judge; who will next be made....
Intressant set-up men tyckte att karaktärerna var tråkiga, handlingen förutsägbar och boken i sig rätt långsam. Det går att göra rättegångs-draman mer intressanta än såhär.