So I downloaded this book mainly because I’d seen it in the Kindle free 100 so many times that I decided to find out what the fuss was all about. Several hundred completely unnecessary pages later I am still none the wiser.
First off, let’s deal with the elephant in the room; the writing is horrible. Okay, so it might be slightly better than the writing in certain recent bestsellers (Such as Fifty Shades of Grey – a book in which the only really obscene acts were the ones perpetrated against harmless prepositional phrases.) but make no mistake – this prose still smells.
Early Amazon reviews of this book complain about grammar, spelling and typographical errors. Thankfully the author seems to have taken at least this lesson on board and cleaned up a little bit, but there are far more fundamental problems here – cliches, said bookisms, he-said-she-said dialogue that makes you feel as though you are watching a tennis match and pacing problems out the wazoo. For instance, at one point the heroine’s brother seems to spend about three days wandering around Regent’s Park, and on another occasion nips to Canada and back as if Toronto was located two doors down from the corner shop. Granted, the character drinks quite a bit, but his strange time-and-space-warping properties apparently have nothing to do with this tendency to knock them back like a pissed fish at Happy Hour.
The writing is repetitive and hand-holdy. In the short prologue the unknown narrator not only tells us he’s in London but helpfully describes several London landmarks just in case we weren’t clear. About a page or two later the heroine is in a noisy pub and her phone rings. She thinks she won’t be able to hear the conversation so she signals to her friend that she’s going outside because she won’t be able to hear her phone and then, when she finally reaches the pavement she tells the person on the end of the line that she just left the pub because it was noisy and she...oh, you get the general idea.
Then she has a conversation about her fiance’s general whereabouts (unknown) and then goes back into the pub to have the exact same sodding conversation with her best friend. It’s one thing to bog your pacing down with mundane details but to repeat the same mindless details three times in the same section is beginning to look like you don’t have a clue what you’re doing.
Anyway, it transpires that Emma’s boyfriend Dan is missing and when they get to Dan’s flat the door is locked and there’s loud music blaring and the neighbours are very upset. They get into the flat to find that Richard is lying on the bathroom floor and he may very well be dead.
Who the fuck is Richard? Yes, I know. I said the exact same thing.
As it transpires, Richard is Dan’s brother and is bleeding profusely from the head following two heavy blows with a blunt instrument. Since he has also been lying there bleeding into his brain for the past couple of chapters it should probably – according to traditional medical wisdom – be goodnight Richard there and then, but the plot demands that he spend the book in a coma and so he’s saved from death by some unspecified ‘first aid’ performed by Emma’s brother Will. Not sure what kind of ‘first aid’ you can perform on a sub-arachnoid bleed but presumably Will had his Black & Decker handy and indulged in a spot of DIY trepanation. (For the love of God, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.)
And then the book gets really stupid.
Yes, Richard is in a coma and Dan is missing. The obvious conclusion here is that Dan is now wanted by the police for attempted murder. Time to round up everyone and get statements about where they last saw Dan, what frame of mind was he in when they last saw him, was there any friction between him and his brother, etc. You know – police work.
Now, I do appreciate that one of the biggest problems of the mystery genre is figuring out what to do with the police, particularly when you’re writing an amateur sleuth. It’s a perennial problem – even the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie wrangled with this one. Sometimes you’ve got to dumb down the forces of law and order so as to make your lead character shine; every Holmes needs his Lestrade.
Unfortunately in this case Emma Holden is the kind of dingbat who would be hard pushed to find her own bottom with two hands and a map. By some kind of odd, proportional logic this now means that the police officers in this book are wandering around like people who would actually drown if they weren’t told to close their mouths while standing in the shower. Instead of taking statements they seem happy to let Emma and her friends frisk merrily off to the hospital so that Emma can wallow in a bit of backstory and cough out a few vague sentiments about why bad things (attempted murder) happen to good people (poor old comatose Richard.)
By the time the book is halfway through Emma should be facing at least four counts of perverting the course of justice, or she would be if the author had done even a fraction of the required research into police procedures. At one point she and her friend discover that all the photographs of her and Dan were taken from the flat when Richard was attacked; I remember this point quite clearly because it was the moment when I was screaming “NO, THAT WOULD BE THE FIRST THING THEY ASKED!”
Seriously. Any sign of a break-in? Was this a burglary gone awry? Excuse me, Miss Holden, I realise this may be difficult but would you mind taking a look around and seeing if anything is missing?
Everyone in this book is an idiot. At one point a character wavers about phoning in a suicide because then the police will know he was there. (It doesn’t seem to have occurred to him to dial 999 from a public phone) And why does he not want to know the police to know he was there? Because he’d gone round to the guy’s house with a gun. Not to kill him. Just to scare him a bit.
Idiots. Total idiots.
It’s kind of lucky for the author that everyone is so eyewateringly silly in this book, because it’s only by dint of their continued and jawdropping foolishness that the mess of a plot even slightly makes sense. After all, this is a book where the authorities reached a verdict of ‘suicide’ on a man who had helpfully stabbed himself and tied himself up in a bedsheet before throwing himself into a canal. I mean, maybe he was just a very thorough suicide but even then, you would wonder, wouldn’t you?
Much of the book is taken up with people making increasingly poor decisions and then when something actually happens they fail to react in any kind of realistic way. There could have been real conflict and tension when Dan – prime suspect in a very ugly attempted murder – apparently contacts Emma. After all, her withholding this information from the police should come with very serious consequences; not only could she be charged for doing so but her continued failure to alert the professionals could very well be placing Dan is deeper danger. As it is, Emma just says “I don’t trust the police,” or “I’ll tell them later,” and then sulks, scratches herself and buggers off for yet another insipid pow-wow with her best friend, Lizzy. Worse, this happens several times and on one such occasion a handwritten letter from Dan magically transforms into a typewritten one about three chapters later.
By the end of the book even Emma Holden herself is screaming “Why won’t this end?” and well she might. The One You Love feels interminable. This is largely due to the author’s habit of repeating pointless minutiae, although it’s helped considerably by the fact that there is no such thing as character voice in this book and so everyone blurs into the same bland droning automaton. By the middle of the book everyone involved seems so bored of the plot that they amble off to get drunk, attend a couple of salsa classes and enjoy a boat party on the Thames; I am not even kidding.
If you like books about cardboard characters skipping consequence-free through a convoluted plot that makes no sense as soon as you take into consideration that it’s supposed to take place in the real world, you’ll enjoy The One You Love. If you don’t you’d probably have more fun attempting home trepanation with a Black & Decker drill (THIS IS A JOKE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DO THIS) but in this case I’m giving it two stars. One for the time it kept me off the internet long enough to avoid Breaking Bad spoilers, and one for plot, characterisation, dialogue, research, consistency and narrative voice. That is to say, everything else.