Source of book: NetGalley (thank you)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.
And remember: I am not here to judge your drag, I mean your book. Books are art and art is subjective. These are just my personal thoughts. They are not meant to be taken as broader commentary on the general quality of the work. Believe me, I have not enjoyed many an excellent book, and my individual lack of enjoyment has not made any of those books less excellent or (more relevantly) less successful.
Further disclaimer: Readers, please stop accusing me of trying to take down “my competition” because I wrote a review you didn’t like. This is complete nonsense. Firstly, writing isn’t a competitive sport. Secondly, I only publish reviews of books in the subgenre where I’m best known (queer romcom) if they’re glowing. And finally: taking time out of my life to read an entire book, then write a detailed review about it that some people on GR will look at would be a profoundly inefficient and ineffective way to damage the careers of other authors. If you can’t credit me with simply being a person who loves books and likes talking about them, at least credit me with enough common sense to be a better villain.
*******************************************
Ah, this is just unabashedly good fun.
The book opens with our four heroines, Billie, Helen, Mary Alice and Natalie celebrating their retirement with luxury cruise. The twist is, what they’re retiring from is the job of being an all-female assassination squad (that is, the members of the squad are women, not that they specifically assassinate women, that would be kind of creepy) working for a shadowy international organisation with benevolent aims and terminal methods. The secondary twist is that they quickly come realise they themselves have become someone’s target. And the tertiary twist is that the ‘someone’ is their own organisation. What follows is a frankly amazing game of “get them before they get us” as the four women attempt to secure their future by way of murder and uncover who has betrayed them.
This is one of those books that’s difficult to review because a) I don’t want to spoil it and b) I basically manifested the Jessica Fletcher popcorn gif while I was reading, I was so gripped. It’s fantastically paced—offering us occasional glimpses of the past to contextualise the present—but, mostly, it’s just like … older woman competence porn with bonus violence? Tell me, what’s not to love about that?
If I had to get picky—and, well, I don’t have to, but I’m going to anyway—I’d say that while each of the women gets their own arc and their moment to shine, Billie is very much the protagonist of the story and that the means the others sometimes get short shrift. Helen, recently bereaved and fragile, was probably the best characterised after Billie (or at the very least my favourite), but Natalie is mostly brassy comic relief and Mary Alice’s relationship with her wife is resolved mostly off page. I can see not wanting to drag down the story or compromise the suspense, but Mary Alice’s whole deal is that she’s been lying to her wife about her job (Akiko assumes she’s a spy not an assassin) and, once the truth comes out, they essentially have to bring Akiko (and Akiko’s cat) with them for safety. Understandably vexed about the whole situation, Akiko stops speaking to Mary Alice for a while but then just sort of … gets over … before the big confrontation. And, again, I can logically see why you’d probably want to reconcile with your wife the night before she might literally die but—and this might just be me wanting more queerness as point of principle—I do wish we’d been slightly more privy to the emotions in play in that relationship. There’s also a bit of an odd dynamic where one of Billie’s devotedly loyal personal contacts is this Lisbeth Salander type which means, between her and Akiko, you’ve sort of got a Ukrainian woman and Japanese woman who spend the whole book dutifully following four Americans around the globe. But, at the same time, between the past and the present, antagonists and allies, victims and ex-lovers, the book has a really sprawling cast, so its occasionally utilitarian approach to its secondary characters is perhaps to be expected.
The final thing I’d say—and I don’t know how to put this tactfully, so I’ll just put it bluntly but … there’s always, I think, a slight concern with media that is specifically focused on women and empowerment to be … gender prescriptive at best and kinda TERFy at worst. And, obviously, I’m not here to say it’s wrong to focus on women and empowerment in whatever way an author sees fit, nor is it my place to approve or condemn particular approaches. For me personally, I felt Killers of A Certain Age offered a diverse cast for whom what being “happy, successful and a woman” meant very different things and who navigated both their identity and their place in a patriarchal society in different ways. Basically—and again, this is just my perspective—part of what made the book such a guilt-free thrill-ride, albeit one in which people get murdered a lot, was its accompanying sense of receptivity to many possible ways of living.
Even if that’s being a woman in your sixties who can kill someone with your bare hands.
An enthusiastic rec from me. I sincerely need this book to be a TV show.
PS – There’s a bit of logistics in the beginning third of the book where the women have to travel to, from and about the UK in a way that won’t alert the people who are tracking them. Because I’m a total arse (and don’t trust Americans with my country) I actually looked up the various travel times, airports, and flight patterns and they totally checked out. That made me really happy. I do love discovering another author’s borderline pathological attention to detail.