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A review by standback
Swerve by Vicki Pettersson
Did not finish book.
I've long concluded that thrillers are Not For Me.
In this particular case, I was game to read one anyway, because it was for a book club. But oh my dear goodness, this was trying something out, and going "thanks, but NO THANK YOU".
At 20% of the book complete, the book is a cat-and-mouse game between protagonist Christine, and a mysterious assailant who's kidnapped her fiance, and apparently has been stalking Christine, lovingly handcrafting an insidious "treasure hunt" of distress, abuse, and stabbitytimes for her, and forces Christine through hoop after murderous hoop by threatening Daniel.
This doesn't work for me.
A lot of it is this: The nemesis, Malthus, knows everything, controls everything, anticipates everything, controls events at the tiniest, most minute level. And what he chooses to do with all that planning and control is... this? It's so outlandishly convoluted; even though the question "But why is he doing all this?" can't possibly have an answer that isn't "He's crazy, and has therefore decided to do this crazy thing." (Yeah, yeah, the plot-convenient craziness might have keyed onto some imagined slight or some bit of backstory -- but who cares? It's still the plot-convenient craziness doing the driving.)
And the result of that is: This is circular to the point of frustration. It's a treasure hunt because the story wants to be a treasure hunt. Christine has no way out because the story can't let her have a way out. Malthus is a twisted showman because the story wants to put on a twisted show, and every person Christine meets is painfully oblivious because anything else would break the premise.
But that completely robs questions like "What's Malthus's end game," "How far will Christine go," or "Is there a way out" of all their tension -- because the answer is always "Whatever keeps the Treasure Hunt Of Misery going". That's all the answer can be, because the book has spent no time building Malthus up as an individual with a concrete goal, building Christine up as a person with agency making actual choices, or building the scenario up as one that could have loopholes, milestones, or escape routes.
This also why I'm fairly confident in some speculation that's utterly unfounded, and also not particularly encouraging: ThatMalthus will turn out to be Daniel, having faked his own abduction.
For one thing, there's just no other suspects. The author's gone to great lengths to conceal Malthus's identity -- meaning the reveal needs to be a surprise, someone Christine knows, not just some rando stalker. For another, the initial setup at the abandoned service station would be impossible for even the most dedicated stalker to predict, and this ties in to Christine's constant amazement at how intimately the stalker knows her.
If my conjecture is even remotely true, then that's just another unbelievable shock tossed into the cocktail, and I can't imagine a satisfactory justification. It's just gonna be a "psychopaths gonna psychopath" situation, and I Just. Do. Not. Want.
Aaaaanyhoo, due to Circumstances, the club has passed on to the next book, and I gotta say, I am relieved.
In this particular case, I was game to read one anyway, because it was for a book club. But oh my dear goodness, this was trying something out, and going "thanks, but NO THANK YOU".
At 20% of the book complete, the book is a cat-and-mouse game between protagonist Christine, and a mysterious assailant who's kidnapped her fiance, and apparently has been stalking Christine, lovingly handcrafting an insidious "treasure hunt" of distress, abuse, and stabbitytimes for her, and forces Christine through hoop after murderous hoop by threatening Daniel.
This doesn't work for me.
A lot of it is this: The nemesis, Malthus, knows everything, controls everything, anticipates everything, controls events at the tiniest, most minute level. And what he chooses to do with all that planning and control is... this? It's so outlandishly convoluted; even though the question "But why is he doing all this?" can't possibly have an answer that isn't "He's crazy, and has therefore decided to do this crazy thing." (Yeah, yeah, the plot-convenient craziness might have keyed onto some imagined slight or some bit of backstory -- but who cares? It's still the plot-convenient craziness doing the driving.)
And the result of that is: This is circular to the point of frustration. It's a treasure hunt because the story wants to be a treasure hunt. Christine has no way out because the story can't let her have a way out. Malthus is a twisted showman because the story wants to put on a twisted show, and every person Christine meets is painfully oblivious because anything else would break the premise.
But that completely robs questions like "What's Malthus's end game," "How far will Christine go," or "Is there a way out" of all their tension -- because the answer is always "Whatever keeps the Treasure Hunt Of Misery going". That's all the answer can be, because the book has spent no time building Malthus up as an individual with a concrete goal, building Christine up as a person with agency making actual choices, or building the scenario up as one that could have loopholes, milestones, or escape routes.
This also why I'm fairly confident in some speculation that's utterly unfounded, and also not particularly encouraging: That
For one thing, there's just no other suspects. The author's gone to great lengths to conceal Malthus's identity -- meaning the reveal needs to be a surprise, someone Christine knows, not just some rando stalker. For another, the initial setup at the abandoned service station would be impossible for even the most dedicated stalker to predict, and this ties in to Christine's constant amazement at how intimately the stalker knows her.
If my conjecture is even remotely true, then that's just another unbelievable shock tossed into the cocktail, and I can't imagine a satisfactory justification. It's just gonna be a "psychopaths gonna psychopath" situation, and I Just. Do. Not. Want.
Aaaaanyhoo, due to Circumstances, the club has passed on to the next book, and I gotta say, I am relieved.