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justinkhchen's reviews
513 reviews
Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky
4.0
4 stars
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.
Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata
4.0
4.5 stars
An explicit analysis of Asian Culture, and how it can be suffocating to people who don't fit in the expected standards.
I thoroughly enjoyed this novella, in part because I have lived in Asia in the past (Taiwan), and this book stirs up a lot of nostalgia—stepping into an Asian convenience store is an unique experience nonexistent anywhere else in the world, with its conditioned temperature, fluorescent light, shelves of product for purchase, and extremely standardized interaction from its staff. It also brings up the primary reason why my family chose to relocate out of Asia, because conforming to societal expectation is almost a requirement for survival.
In many ways this book is very 'Japanese/Asian', to the point I think foreign readers, without context, might interpret Convenience Store Woman as an exaggerated fantasy, but in reality quite close to the truth.
I interpret its ending as tragic, Keiko is ultimately trapped; Convenience Store Woman concludes a person can only be accepted by society if he/she participates in the most trivial activities at the expected stages of their life, such as sex, marriage, ambition, and willingness to gossip, no matter if he/she possesses other strength/talent (notice Keiko never receive a promotion, even within the convenience store microcosm).
I'm aware some people interpret Keiko as autistic, which definitely has its merit, though I want to believe Sayaka Murata is making a wider commentary, rather than targeting people with specific condition.
An explicit analysis of Asian Culture, and how it can be suffocating to people who don't fit in the expected standards.
I thoroughly enjoyed this novella, in part because I have lived in Asia in the past (Taiwan), and this book stirs up a lot of nostalgia—stepping into an Asian convenience store is an unique experience nonexistent anywhere else in the world, with its conditioned temperature, fluorescent light, shelves of product for purchase, and extremely standardized interaction from its staff. It also brings up the primary reason why my family chose to relocate out of Asia, because conforming to societal expectation is almost a requirement for survival.
In many ways this book is very 'Japanese/Asian', to the point I think foreign readers, without context, might interpret Convenience Store Woman as an exaggerated fantasy, but in reality quite close to the truth.
I interpret its ending as tragic, Keiko is ultimately trapped; Convenience Store Woman concludes a person can only be accepted by society if he/she participates in the most trivial activities at the expected stages of their life, such as sex, marriage, ambition, and willingness to gossip, no matter if he/she possesses other strength/talent (notice Keiko never receive a promotion, even within the convenience store microcosm).
I'm aware some people interpret Keiko as autistic, which definitely has its merit, though I want to believe Sayaka Murata is making a wider commentary, rather than targeting people with specific condition.
The Turn of the Screw by Henry James
3.0
3.5 stars
The rating on this one is a little tricky, while I didn't wholeheartedly enjoy the book, I'm glad I now have this classic under my belt, and can start picking up its influence on later work in the genre.
I will confess I did have to occasionally refer to SparkNotes, as the prose can get a little dense. Despite its novella length, it is not a book you can hastily devour, one due to its ornate, antiquated writing style, the other is that it is deliberately slow and convoluted: The Turn of the Screw really digs deep into unraveling the psyche of the governess, at her attempt at trying to cope and resolve the unnatural incidents at Bly.
This is a prime example where the discussion followed is more intriguing than the actual story. Henry James had crafted a perfectly ambiguous tale, where character action and incident can be interpreted on face value, or metaphorically. There are already tons of critics trying to 'solve' the mystery (I particularly enjoy the one from The New Yorker, by Brad Leithauser), but I like to think that both interpretations are equally valid.
At the end, reading The Turn of the Screw reminds me of reading Shakespeare in high school: not necessarily enjoyable during the process, but in retrospect it opened up my horizon and I appreciate the additional perspective I now have regarding my future reading.
The rating on this one is a little tricky, while I didn't wholeheartedly enjoy the book, I'm glad I now have this classic under my belt, and can start picking up its influence on later work in the genre.
I will confess I did have to occasionally refer to SparkNotes, as the prose can get a little dense. Despite its novella length, it is not a book you can hastily devour, one due to its ornate, antiquated writing style, the other is that it is deliberately slow and convoluted: The Turn of the Screw really digs deep into unraveling the psyche of the governess, at her attempt at trying to cope and resolve the unnatural incidents at Bly.
This is a prime example where the discussion followed is more intriguing than the actual story. Henry James had crafted a perfectly ambiguous tale, where character action and incident can be interpreted on face value, or metaphorically. There are already tons of critics trying to 'solve' the mystery (I particularly enjoy the one from The New Yorker, by Brad Leithauser), but I like to think that both interpretations are equally valid.
At the end, reading The Turn of the Screw reminds me of reading Shakespeare in high school: not necessarily enjoyable during the process, but in retrospect it opened up my horizon and I appreciate the additional perspective I now have regarding my future reading.
Rocking the Boat by C. Koehler
2.0
2 stars
C Koehler is evidently knowledgeable, and passionate about college rowing. and scenes surrounding the training and competition are easily the best aspect of Rocking the Boat. It is also a setting rarely used in a M/M romance, and one can't deny, from a shallow, aesthetic-driven perspective, it is a rather ripe choice to conjure up some steamy, sexy time.
While Rocking the Boat. delivers on the sex, it falters quite a bit on its story and character development. The crux of the novella relies on a character decision so absurd and illogical (having you best friend fake dating your crush to alleviate him from your mind), that the remaining narrative never fully recover from it. It depreciates the protagonist Nick, who has been written a little too naive, leaning into incredibly dumb territory (yes, going out in public with a boyfriend means the potential of being spotted, that shouldn't come as a sudden realization). The story is also quite constrained in its scope, with setting/scenario narrowly focused on rowing and relationship gossip, characters don't read like well-rounded adult individuals, but emotionally-obsessed teens where a phone call or text ruins one's life forever. Being melodramatic and angst is a valid stylistic choice, but when it is paired with the almost documentary style precision of the rowing portion, the clash between realism and comic book characters ended up subtracting the impact on both ends.
Lastly, seeing this was originally written in 2011, some of the word choice may seems problematic under today's climate; when characters are emotionally vulnerable, they are often described with phrases like "being like a girl" or "acting girly"—which on repeating occurrence, starts to sound extremely sexist. Hope this is something can be revisited prior to the re-release.
Rocking the Boat does have some highlights, but they are being dragged down by questionable plot choice and dated writing style. In it's current state, it reads a little more like a personal fantasy, rather than a fully fleshed-out publication.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
C Koehler is evidently knowledgeable, and passionate about college rowing. and scenes surrounding the training and competition are easily the best aspect of Rocking the Boat. It is also a setting rarely used in a M/M romance, and one can't deny, from a shallow, aesthetic-driven perspective, it is a rather ripe choice to conjure up some steamy, sexy time.
While Rocking the Boat. delivers on the sex, it falters quite a bit on its story and character development. The crux of the novella relies on a character decision so absurd and illogical (having you best friend fake dating your crush to alleviate him from your mind), that the remaining narrative never fully recover from it. It depreciates the protagonist Nick, who has been written a little too naive, leaning into incredibly dumb territory (yes, going out in public with a boyfriend means the potential of being spotted, that shouldn't come as a sudden realization). The story is also quite constrained in its scope, with setting/scenario narrowly focused on rowing and relationship gossip, characters don't read like well-rounded adult individuals, but emotionally-obsessed teens where a phone call or text ruins one's life forever. Being melodramatic and angst is a valid stylistic choice, but when it is paired with the almost documentary style precision of the rowing portion, the clash between realism and comic book characters ended up subtracting the impact on both ends.
Lastly, seeing this was originally written in 2011, some of the word choice may seems problematic under today's climate; when characters are emotionally vulnerable, they are often described with phrases like "being like a girl" or "acting girly"—which on repeating occurrence, starts to sound extremely sexist. Hope this is something can be revisited prior to the re-release.
Rocking the Boat does have some highlights, but they are being dragged down by questionable plot choice and dated writing style. In it's current state, it reads a little more like a personal fantasy, rather than a fully fleshed-out publication.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing
2.0
2.5 stars
An impulsive read with cheap thrills. While it certainly entertains, My Lovely Wife doesn't really deliver upon its 'Dexter meets Mr. and Mrs. Smith' promise. It's simply not as clever as it thinks.
I might have to reevaluate my perspective on modern thriller literature in general; as a lot of them seem to disregard basic logic and human behavior in favor of sensational drama, and the readership as a whole seem to be contempt with it (I don't see the issue being mentioned in reviews). There's always a time and place for taking creative license in order to generate an impactful narrative, but in My Lovely Wife, Downing disregarded some fundamental common sense in its setup, which resulted in absurdly convenient scenarios, and poor character development (the protagonist appeared more irrational than the author has intended).
**Light spoiler ahead**
- 'Tobias' pretends to be a mute to come in contact with potential candidates, within his own neighborhood and without any sort of physical disguise; unless we are pretending these bartenders/women are forever locked to a location, how can he guarantee he won't bump into people who previously recognize him as a mute? Sounds high risk, and the worst way to remain anonymous.
- 'Tobias' didn't even attempt to research the current whereabouts of the serial killer, before trying to frame the couple's act on him. (Even with the knowledge of him not being the 'best planner', and Millicent holding back the info for her own benefit), I can't foresee someone attempting an act of this scale not doing his due diligence on research.
- I can look pass a door/window lock not been updated in 10+ years, but you can't convince me a mansion won't be alarmed when the owner is away for an extended vacation.
- Hated how the character Holly is portrayed / utilized in the story; are we simply assuming she was completely at peace with being misdiagnosed/misunderstood all these years? And why would she proactively return to the proximity of Millicent, knowing exactly what her true character is? (I would've run far, far away).
- The book provided some explanation regarding how Millicent find the time to dispose Naomi, but how did she manage the 3 additional murders?
**Light spoiler ends**
The absurdity above definitely impacts my overall rating, as well as the lackluster resolution; which feels very 'thriller-cliché', betraying the intricacy the novel tries to construct up till then (So the mastermind Millicent simply became batshit crazy?! Would've wished she had kept her cool a little longer.) I do enjoy the family dynamic described in My Lovely Wife, particularly the inclusion of medias' influence on the kids' mental state. I thought the behavior they took on is a nice parallel to the parent.
All in all, with the amount of praise My Lovely Wife has received, I had high (perhaps misguided) expectation—the book met some, as in I was entertained, but missed the mark for me on some key factors.
An impulsive read with cheap thrills. While it certainly entertains, My Lovely Wife doesn't really deliver upon its 'Dexter meets Mr. and Mrs. Smith' promise. It's simply not as clever as it thinks.
I might have to reevaluate my perspective on modern thriller literature in general; as a lot of them seem to disregard basic logic and human behavior in favor of sensational drama, and the readership as a whole seem to be contempt with it (I don't see the issue being mentioned in reviews). There's always a time and place for taking creative license in order to generate an impactful narrative, but in My Lovely Wife, Downing disregarded some fundamental common sense in its setup, which resulted in absurdly convenient scenarios, and poor character development (the protagonist appeared more irrational than the author has intended).
**Light spoiler ahead**
- 'Tobias' pretends to be a mute to come in contact with potential candidates, within his own neighborhood and without any sort of physical disguise; unless we are pretending these bartenders/women are forever locked to a location, how can he guarantee he won't bump into people who previously recognize him as a mute? Sounds high risk, and the worst way to remain anonymous.
- 'Tobias' didn't even attempt to research the current whereabouts of the serial killer, before trying to frame the couple's act on him. (Even with the knowledge of him not being the 'best planner', and Millicent holding back the info for her own benefit), I can't foresee someone attempting an act of this scale not doing his due diligence on research.
- I can look pass a door/window lock not been updated in 10+ years, but you can't convince me a mansion won't be alarmed when the owner is away for an extended vacation.
- Hated how the character Holly is portrayed / utilized in the story; are we simply assuming she was completely at peace with being misdiagnosed/misunderstood all these years? And why would she proactively return to the proximity of Millicent, knowing exactly what her true character is? (I would've run far, far away).
- The book provided some explanation regarding how Millicent find the time to dispose Naomi, but how did she manage the 3 additional murders?
**Light spoiler ends**
The absurdity above definitely impacts my overall rating, as well as the lackluster resolution; which feels very 'thriller-cliché', betraying the intricacy the novel tries to construct up till then (So the mastermind Millicent simply became batshit crazy?! Would've wished she had kept her cool a little longer.) I do enjoy the family dynamic described in My Lovely Wife, particularly the inclusion of medias' influence on the kids' mental state. I thought the behavior they took on is a nice parallel to the parent.
All in all, with the amount of praise My Lovely Wife has received, I had high (perhaps misguided) expectation—the book met some, as in I was entertained, but missed the mark for me on some key factors.
The Dark Half by Stephen King
3.0
3 stars
Dimensional characters, some wonderfully chilling moments, and a powerful conclusion, Stephen King's The Dark Half would make an excellent novella, but as a novel, it suffers serious lag in its middle act.
The novel is very uniquely structured, not only is the book broken into parts, each chapter is further divided into 'sections'. The fragmentation accentuates the theme of multiplicity; who is Thad Beaumont, and who is George Stark? — who is real and who is fictional? Can the answer ever be definitive?
King proves again he can create a realistic, well-rounded writer character, evident from his previous attempts (The Shining and Misery). The Dark Half is also deeply autobiographical, as King himself also had written under a pen name (Richard Bachman) for a couple releases, and suffered a similar fate being discovered by a fan, and forced to be 'outed'. The novel is at its strongest when focusing on Thad and George; it's extremely compelling reading their motivation, and learning how they try to outsmart the other person, first to claim fame and creativity, and ultimately life.
The novel also contains a heavy presence of a third character, sheriff Alan Pangborn, who is the objective, non-believing counterpart when crazy (and oftentimes gruesome) events start to surface. This is where the novel takes a toll in its pacing. Told in multiple voices, the reader often foresees events not yet evident to this particular character; to re-read the same information regurgitated through Alan's perspective, and disproving the existence of George Stark (which the reader knows is incorrect), feels like a waste of time and the standstill ultimately dissipates momentum without adding worthwhile perspective.
Ultimately The Dark Half has great bones, if a little overstuffed in parts. To read this or not depends on your tolerance to meandering pacing; otherwise, maybe checking out the movie adaptation might be the way to go.
Dimensional characters, some wonderfully chilling moments, and a powerful conclusion, Stephen King's The Dark Half would make an excellent novella, but as a novel, it suffers serious lag in its middle act.
The novel is very uniquely structured, not only is the book broken into parts, each chapter is further divided into 'sections'. The fragmentation accentuates the theme of multiplicity; who is Thad Beaumont, and who is George Stark? — who is real and who is fictional? Can the answer ever be definitive?
King proves again he can create a realistic, well-rounded writer character, evident from his previous attempts (The Shining and Misery). The Dark Half is also deeply autobiographical, as King himself also had written under a pen name (Richard Bachman) for a couple releases, and suffered a similar fate being discovered by a fan, and forced to be 'outed'. The novel is at its strongest when focusing on Thad and George; it's extremely compelling reading their motivation, and learning how they try to outsmart the other person, first to claim fame and creativity, and ultimately life.
The novel also contains a heavy presence of a third character, sheriff Alan Pangborn, who is the objective, non-believing counterpart when crazy (and oftentimes gruesome) events start to surface. This is where the novel takes a toll in its pacing. Told in multiple voices, the reader often foresees events not yet evident to this particular character; to re-read the same information regurgitated through Alan's perspective, and disproving the existence of George Stark (which the reader knows is incorrect), feels like a waste of time and the standstill ultimately dissipates momentum without adding worthwhile perspective.
Ultimately The Dark Half has great bones, if a little overstuffed in parts. To read this or not depends on your tolerance to meandering pacing; otherwise, maybe checking out the movie adaptation might be the way to go.
Slow Down by Lee Matthew Goldberg
4.0
4.5 stars
While reading, I kept imagining how this story would come to life through the lens of Nicolas Winding Refn. If you're a fan of movies such as The Neon Demon or American Psycho, where the delirious obsession with fame drives one to extreme actions—Slow Down will be right up your alley.
Essentially a story about a filmmaker being pressured to write his next 'big' movie, Lee Matthew Goldberg blends many familiar 'Rags to Riches' themes within a razor sharp narratives about filmmaking: life imitating art (or vice versa), never meet one's hero, and power struggle within relationship. The story is purposefully filled with unpleasant characters; if you're familiar with the aforementioned films and Chuck Palahniuk.'s Fight Club (which was referenced multiple times), you'll have a good grasp of the archetype populating this story: self-righteous, headstrong, and turbulent. Slow Down satisfies our macabre curiosity of just how far one would do, with extreme malevolence and beyond morality, to quench assumed life-depending desire or reputation.
It might be bizarre to call a book 'cinematic', but that is exactly how Slow Down reads; Lee Matthew Goldberg set up multiple recurring visual cues, which all come to satisfying revelation as the story wraps up. My only minor gripe with Slow Down is it's truncated ending, which abruptly brings everything to closure in a way that is too naive and dainty for the events prior. BUT, within its meta, cyclical storytelling structure, the choice is also completely intentional and justified; so the final verdict really depends on personal preference: would you prefer an all-out, emotionally gutted ending, or one that is less thrilling, but thematically appropriate?
To close, if you have been a fan of hypnotic Neo-noir narrative where characters self-destruct and being their absolutely worst to others for questionable victory, then you'll definitely find Slow Down a worthwhile read.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
While reading, I kept imagining how this story would come to life through the lens of Nicolas Winding Refn. If you're a fan of movies such as The Neon Demon or American Psycho, where the delirious obsession with fame drives one to extreme actions—Slow Down will be right up your alley.
Essentially a story about a filmmaker being pressured to write his next 'big' movie, Lee Matthew Goldberg blends many familiar 'Rags to Riches' themes within a razor sharp narratives about filmmaking: life imitating art (or vice versa), never meet one's hero, and power struggle within relationship. The story is purposefully filled with unpleasant characters; if you're familiar with the aforementioned films and Chuck Palahniuk.'s Fight Club (which was referenced multiple times), you'll have a good grasp of the archetype populating this story: self-righteous, headstrong, and turbulent. Slow Down satisfies our macabre curiosity of just how far one would do, with extreme malevolence and beyond morality, to quench assumed life-depending desire or reputation.
It might be bizarre to call a book 'cinematic', but that is exactly how Slow Down reads; Lee Matthew Goldberg set up multiple recurring visual cues, which all come to satisfying revelation as the story wraps up. My only minor gripe with Slow Down is it's truncated ending, which abruptly brings everything to closure in a way that is too naive and dainty for the events prior. BUT, within its meta, cyclical storytelling structure, the choice is also completely intentional and justified; so the final verdict really depends on personal preference: would you prefer an all-out, emotionally gutted ending, or one that is less thrilling, but thematically appropriate?
To close, if you have been a fan of hypnotic Neo-noir narrative where characters self-destruct and being their absolutely worst to others for questionable victory, then you'll definitely find Slow Down a worthwhile read.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager
2.0
2.5 stars
I have come to the conclusion Riley Sager's work is not for me.
After seeing the endless hype about his novels online, and my less-than-stellar reading experiences thus far (Lock Every Door: 2 stars / Home Before Dark: 3 stars), I decided to try 1 more; because 1 inferior book might be an unfortunate career mishap, with 2 books a pattern starts to emerge, and 3 books should be enough to generate a final verdict. The Last Time I Lied is that third book, and it confirms reoccurring qualities in his work that I personally find distracting.
**Light spoiler ahead**
I should clarify I'm not reading these books just to mock them, because Riley Sager is a master at establishing compelling premise. This remains true with The Last Time I Lied, I'll even add this is my favorite setting out of the 3 I've read; Camp Nightingale is a perfectly rendered homage to Friday the 13th's Crystal Lake, and Sager makes it his own by layering in a storied submerged town underneath the camp's man-made body of water.
Unfortunately the progression beyond the riveting buildup bums me out (beside the final twist, which has the bleak darkness I wish was present throughout the book's entirety), It's like Riley Sager selected and sourced all the premium ingredients, but somehow ended up with a bland dish.
- Emma Davis is a ill-conceived protagonist: Emma is written very similarly across the dual timelines, which is absurd considering the 15 years gap. The lack of maturity in the adult (28yr-old) Emma makes her section grating to read through; she's self-righteous, self-isolating, and never once reevaluate her teenage incident through the lens of hindsight and adulthood. Her bizarre teen-angst behavior is not only accidentally comical (LOVES getting drunk and becomes irritated when others 'told on her' (to the police, nonetheless)... If I read the passage about the adult Emma hugging her camper's teddy bear one more time... And yes, the best way to deal with a shower room peephole, is to stuff it with clay from the craft room, instead of informing the staff.), but also padding out the book with unnecessary side tracks (How can the adult Emma remains so loyal to Vivian's words, when her teenage self was already aware of Vivian's tendency to manipulate?) The adult Emma's fragile mental state is crucial plot element to The Last Time I Lied, but I don't think it is well-calibrated, sacrificing the reader's sympathy (I honestly wished the worst of her character in the later half of the novel), and the story's integrity.
- Plot built on wishy-washy logic: Emma ended up in Dogwood twice is thematically interesting, but considering the previous incident, why would anyone in their right mind approve it the second time?
The lone security camera pointing at a cabin in the wood is a vivid concept, but its only real contribution is conceiving the most hilariously dumb sequence of the book (Ch. 33–36 if you want to experience it firsthand): lengthy passage of Emma sneaking out, meticulously avoiding the camera. Then she decides to storm into the lodge, encountering cops and confronting Franny and Lottie, only to then sneaks her way back into Dogwood "the same way she left". With multiple witnesses well-aware she's been out and about, what is the point of this charade? Either Riley Sager is implying Emma has gone completely delusional (which I doubt is the case), or his editor forgot to proofread this particular section.
- Perhaps the biggest disappointment is how little the setting's history end up being relevant to the core story: the asylum, the odd wig business, the sunken town and its begrudged residents, and the mysterious drowning of Franny's husband... Like building an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine just to open a can of soup, Riley Sager paints an extensive world with seemingly endless possibilities, only as misdirection and red herring, in service of a very minuscule (and juvenile) story of revenge between 2 individuals. This is a trope Sager has also implemented for Lock Every Door and Home Before Dark; it's a sinking feeling when you realize in retrospect, majority of the novel is simply smoke and mirrors, instead of building narrative layers and nuances.
**Light spoiler ends**
In the end, I still find this journey with Riley Sager's work a fruitful one, as it helps me to further define my thriller preferences.
I have come to the conclusion Riley Sager's work is not for me.
After seeing the endless hype about his novels online, and my less-than-stellar reading experiences thus far (Lock Every Door: 2 stars / Home Before Dark: 3 stars), I decided to try 1 more; because 1 inferior book might be an unfortunate career mishap, with 2 books a pattern starts to emerge, and 3 books should be enough to generate a final verdict. The Last Time I Lied is that third book, and it confirms reoccurring qualities in his work that I personally find distracting.
**Light spoiler ahead**
I should clarify I'm not reading these books just to mock them, because Riley Sager is a master at establishing compelling premise. This remains true with The Last Time I Lied, I'll even add this is my favorite setting out of the 3 I've read; Camp Nightingale is a perfectly rendered homage to Friday the 13th's Crystal Lake, and Sager makes it his own by layering in a storied submerged town underneath the camp's man-made body of water.
Unfortunately the progression beyond the riveting buildup bums me out (beside the final twist, which has the bleak darkness I wish was present throughout the book's entirety), It's like Riley Sager selected and sourced all the premium ingredients, but somehow ended up with a bland dish.
- Emma Davis is a ill-conceived protagonist: Emma is written very similarly across the dual timelines, which is absurd considering the 15 years gap. The lack of maturity in the adult (28yr-old) Emma makes her section grating to read through; she's self-righteous, self-isolating, and never once reevaluate her teenage incident through the lens of hindsight and adulthood. Her bizarre teen-angst behavior is not only accidentally comical (LOVES getting drunk and becomes irritated when others 'told on her' (to the police, nonetheless)... If I read the passage about the adult Emma hugging her camper's teddy bear one more time... And yes, the best way to deal with a shower room peephole, is to stuff it with clay from the craft room, instead of informing the staff.), but also padding out the book with unnecessary side tracks (How can the adult Emma remains so loyal to Vivian's words, when her teenage self was already aware of Vivian's tendency to manipulate?) The adult Emma's fragile mental state is crucial plot element to The Last Time I Lied, but I don't think it is well-calibrated, sacrificing the reader's sympathy (I honestly wished the worst of her character in the later half of the novel), and the story's integrity.
- Plot built on wishy-washy logic: Emma ended up in Dogwood twice is thematically interesting, but considering the previous incident, why would anyone in their right mind approve it the second time?
The lone security camera pointing at a cabin in the wood is a vivid concept, but its only real contribution is conceiving the most hilariously dumb sequence of the book (Ch. 33–36 if you want to experience it firsthand): lengthy passage of Emma sneaking out, meticulously avoiding the camera. Then she decides to storm into the lodge, encountering cops and confronting Franny and Lottie, only to then sneaks her way back into Dogwood "the same way she left". With multiple witnesses well-aware she's been out and about, what is the point of this charade? Either Riley Sager is implying Emma has gone completely delusional (which I doubt is the case), or his editor forgot to proofread this particular section.
- Perhaps the biggest disappointment is how little the setting's history end up being relevant to the core story: the asylum, the odd wig business, the sunken town and its begrudged residents, and the mysterious drowning of Franny's husband... Like building an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine just to open a can of soup, Riley Sager paints an extensive world with seemingly endless possibilities, only as misdirection and red herring, in service of a very minuscule (and juvenile) story of revenge between 2 individuals. This is a trope Sager has also implemented for Lock Every Door and Home Before Dark; it's a sinking feeling when you realize in retrospect, majority of the novel is simply smoke and mirrors, instead of building narrative layers and nuances.
**Light spoiler ends**
In the end, I still find this journey with Riley Sager's work a fruitful one, as it helps me to further define my thriller preferences.
The Secret Talker by Geling Yan
4.0
4 stars
Utilizing tropes common in domestic thrillers, The Secret Talker is a lyrical study on buried secrets, deceptive harmony, and wandering desire in a seemingly steady marriage.
Once you accept the rather archaic method of exchange Geling Yan chose as the primary narrative device (it has been a long time since I personally write / receive meaningful, lengthy emails; texting and other apps have since taken its place.), it's a rather effective storytelling device; organically revealing events in a stream of consciousness manner, providing suspense and twist without feeling overtly manipulative.
Being an #ownvoices novel, the Chinese protagonist feels authentic, and her cultural background and upbringing is what validate the realism of The Secret Talker's narrative; the trope can only be sustained convincingly with a conflicting immigrated Chinese's state of mind: glorification of the Western culture (and maintaining it at all cost), internal turmoil beneath a placid facade (unwilling to be seen broken), and disdain, but the same time, nostalgic for one's humbled root.
The ending twist is emotionally rewarding, if not The Sixth Sense level surprisingly, nor as flawlessly executed. The puzzle pieces come together abruptly with many conveniences, as if the author has hit the minimum page count for the assignment, rather than letting the narrative reach its resolution in an appropriate pacing. This shortcoming aside, the reveal does warrant The Secret Talker a second read-through, as it alters the reader's interpretation of a specific character.
The Secret Talker is more literary fiction than thriller, it uses suspenseful scenarios as catalyst to deep dive into a character's psyche, rather than purely for their shock value. If you are a fan of beautiful prose and well-rounded, flawed protagonist, this book is worth a try.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Utilizing tropes common in domestic thrillers, The Secret Talker is a lyrical study on buried secrets, deceptive harmony, and wandering desire in a seemingly steady marriage.
Once you accept the rather archaic method of exchange Geling Yan chose as the primary narrative device (it has been a long time since I personally write / receive meaningful, lengthy emails; texting and other apps have since taken its place.), it's a rather effective storytelling device; organically revealing events in a stream of consciousness manner, providing suspense and twist without feeling overtly manipulative.
Being an #ownvoices novel, the Chinese protagonist feels authentic, and her cultural background and upbringing is what validate the realism of The Secret Talker's narrative; the trope can only be sustained convincingly with a conflicting immigrated Chinese's state of mind: glorification of the Western culture (and maintaining it at all cost), internal turmoil beneath a placid facade (unwilling to be seen broken), and disdain, but the same time, nostalgic for one's humbled root.
The ending twist is emotionally rewarding, if not The Sixth Sense level surprisingly, nor as flawlessly executed. The puzzle pieces come together abruptly with many conveniences, as if the author has hit the minimum page count for the assignment, rather than letting the narrative reach its resolution in an appropriate pacing. This shortcoming aside, the reveal does warrant The Secret Talker a second read-through, as it alters the reader's interpretation of a specific character.
The Secret Talker is more literary fiction than thriller, it uses suspenseful scenarios as catalyst to deep dive into a character's psyche, rather than purely for their shock value. If you are a fan of beautiful prose and well-rounded, flawed protagonist, this book is worth a try.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
One by One by Ruth Ware
3.0
3 stars
One by One is sharply written, and completely addictive; Ruth Ware took a risky gamble by re-framing the classic locked-room mystery of Agatha Christie, to tell a modern day thriller taking place during a company retreat among snowy mountain. It's risky because her intervention to the classic murder mystery formula might ultimately also be the book's downfall (see what I did there—for a novel involving an avalanche...), ending up not pleasing fans of either murder mystery or thriller genre.
The saving grace is the overall setup, and the cast. While not necessarily to everyone's taste, I personally find the corporate dispute and app development angle fascinating, as well as refreshing to read within this context. Ruth Ware does an excellent job weaving them throughout, without feeling like she is simply regurgitating her research on tech startups. The characters are well fleshed-out, believable as someone from that particular social circle (I've encountered a few in my life to confirm!). You end up feeling sympathetic towards (some of) them, which makes the lingering epilogue still enjoyable to read through.
My recommendation: go into this book without assuming where the story should go (based on an assumed genre standard), then you might extract more enjoyment out of it.
**Minor spoiler ahead**
Ultimately One by One is still a thriller at its core, just decked out in murder mystery ornaments. Even with the clues and setups, there's ultimately no real mystery to solve; the novel reveals the culprit quite informally at about 60% (I was dumbfounded, and thought this was simply a misdirect—so I guess in a way it did succeed as a 'plot twist'), which might dispirit readers who are eager to deduce and guess the murderer alongside. In hindsight, the fact One by One's narrative is written from such limited perspectives, should be a telltale sign that deception is never the game it's attempting to play.
On the other hand, the first half of the book might bore thriller seekers to death; like most locked-room mysteries, it primarily consists of: the group being dispersed → someone is killed with strange circumstance → the group assembles and goes over plausible motive and alibi → the cycle repeats, and Ruth Ware remains quite faithful to this rhythm. For readers who are expecting something more event-driven, similar to her previous works, might find the large cast and keeping track of everyone's whereabouts an exhausting chore.
One by One does have some narrative inconsistencies, which dampen the its overall plausibility. One being the blatant dismissal of character Kate, the chalet's booking manager. Being offsite from the avalanche, she has the knowledge and capability to send help immediately. But the novel simply ignores this in order to create an extended period of isolation at the chalet. The characterization of the culprit is another weak spot, who is extremely sharp and resourceful one moment, and completely dumb in others. his/her demise is led by a series of stupid choices, which is in stark contrast to the first half of the book, where he/she is able to murder multiple people without suspicion.
**Minor spoiler ends**
Ultimately, I had a good enough time with One by One, even though the trope-bending experiment is less than successful, and the overall pacing feels lopsided (I've rarely encountered an epilogue this excessive), the setting and the character still makes it an engrossing read.
One by One is sharply written, and completely addictive; Ruth Ware took a risky gamble by re-framing the classic locked-room mystery of Agatha Christie, to tell a modern day thriller taking place during a company retreat among snowy mountain. It's risky because her intervention to the classic murder mystery formula might ultimately also be the book's downfall (see what I did there—for a novel involving an avalanche...), ending up not pleasing fans of either murder mystery or thriller genre.
The saving grace is the overall setup, and the cast. While not necessarily to everyone's taste, I personally find the corporate dispute and app development angle fascinating, as well as refreshing to read within this context. Ruth Ware does an excellent job weaving them throughout, without feeling like she is simply regurgitating her research on tech startups. The characters are well fleshed-out, believable as someone from that particular social circle (I've encountered a few in my life to confirm!). You end up feeling sympathetic towards (some of) them, which makes the lingering epilogue still enjoyable to read through.
My recommendation: go into this book without assuming where the story should go (based on an assumed genre standard), then you might extract more enjoyment out of it.
**Minor spoiler ahead**
Ultimately One by One is still a thriller at its core, just decked out in murder mystery ornaments. Even with the clues and setups, there's ultimately no real mystery to solve; the novel reveals the culprit quite informally at about 60% (I was dumbfounded, and thought this was simply a misdirect—so I guess in a way it did succeed as a 'plot twist'), which might dispirit readers who are eager to deduce and guess the murderer alongside. In hindsight, the fact One by One's narrative is written from such limited perspectives, should be a telltale sign that deception is never the game it's attempting to play.
On the other hand, the first half of the book might bore thriller seekers to death; like most locked-room mysteries, it primarily consists of: the group being dispersed → someone is killed with strange circumstance → the group assembles and goes over plausible motive and alibi → the cycle repeats, and Ruth Ware remains quite faithful to this rhythm. For readers who are expecting something more event-driven, similar to her previous works, might find the large cast and keeping track of everyone's whereabouts an exhausting chore.
One by One does have some narrative inconsistencies, which dampen the its overall plausibility. One being the blatant dismissal of character Kate, the chalet's booking manager. Being offsite from the avalanche, she has the knowledge and capability to send help immediately. But the novel simply ignores this in order to create an extended period of isolation at the chalet. The characterization of the culprit is another weak spot, who is extremely sharp and resourceful one moment, and completely dumb in others. his/her demise is led by a series of stupid choices, which is in stark contrast to the first half of the book, where he/she is able to murder multiple people without suspicion.
**Minor spoiler ends**
Ultimately, I had a good enough time with One by One, even though the trope-bending experiment is less than successful, and the overall pacing feels lopsided (I've rarely encountered an epilogue this excessive), the setting and the character still makes it an engrossing read.