I went into Murderland expecting a dark, campy murder mystery set in a theme park — a concept I’m genuinely obsessed with. The tagline was intriguing, and as someone who loves theme parks and mysteries, I thought this would be right up my alley. Sadly, this book turned into one of the most frustrating reads I’ve picked up in a long time.
Right away, the book felt like it was trying too hard to hit current publishing checkboxes: every character’s ethnicity and sexuality is announced immediately as if that substitutes for actual personality development. It didn’t add anything meaningful to the plot or character arcs — it just felt performative.
The Main Character: Billie
Let’s talk about Billie. I’ve read some unlikable protagonists, but Billie is exhausting. She flip-flops between being a classic pick-me girl and an “oh my god, everyone’s obsessed with me” girl for no reason that makes sense. She assumes everyone’s in love with her — Leon, Sawyer, Grace — purely because… she’s Billie? Her confidence about being desirable to literally everyone is baffling, especially for someone so deeply insecure and catastrophically bad at reading people. She’s unrelatable, erratic, and endlessly self-centered.
Inconsistencies & Lazy Plotting
What truly made this book an aggravating read was the sheer number of inconsistencies and lazy plot holes:
• There’s a disguise subplot where Billie switches her hoodie for Sawyer’s jacket to go “incognito,” yet the book constantly flip-flops between calling it a hoodie and a jacket. Did no one fact-check this?
• The main murder mystery hinges on assumptions treated as facts. Characters guess who might have been killed or how — and then those guesses quietly morph into canon as the book progresses, without evidence or confirmation.
• The timeline of Gooseberry the animatronic, the park’s history, and prior murders shifts so often I had to start annotating pages like I was studying for an exam.
• When Billie smells Axe body spray and sees a pair of shoes, she immediately accuses Leon of being the murderer — because apparently no one else wears Axe except middle schoolers, and only Leon owns shoes. The leaps in logic in this book are Olympic.
• The murderer’s plan involving peanut oil and Grace’s fatal allergy makes no sense. How did Connor know exactly which hot dog Grace would eat? Did he inject one hot dog? Several? How was he sure it would get to her? And why did her severe peanut allergy take a whole hour to kick in when in reality, that would happen within minutes.
Connor: The Last-Minute Psycho
Connor, the big reveal murderer, was a frustrating character because the book never developed him beyond a couple throwaway lines. It’s eventually revealed he was being paid off by High Park higher-ups to cover up past crimes, and there’s literal money found being exchanged as evidence — but we barely get to know him. They awkwardly try to paint him as a psycho at the end, mentioning how a kid got trampled by a horse at another park and Connor coldly said “Glad we don’t have horses.” That’s as deep as his villain persona gets. I wish we’d run into him more throughout the story, had more tension-building scenes with him, or used other characters like Sarah to lay actual red herrings. Even simple clues like a ride photo they couldn’t find — it could’ve been discovered in Connor’s office or desk later. It’s a teen mystery; small, obvious clues would’ve been appropriate and satisfying.
Character Dynamics & Emotional Nonsense
The friend group is a disaster. Leon ignores Billie for months, they hooked up at a company party 6 months prior, nobody addresses it, and yet she thinks they’re met to be together and can’t wait to sleep with him after her shift. Grace is supposedly in love with Billie. Sawyer is the only halfway decent person and spends the entire book saving Billie from herself while Billie acts like a brat.
I wish we got a flash to the party to see how it went down- the side comments about it just didn’t add weight to the characters emotional motivations.
One line that epitomized the absurdity of this book: after Grace dies (horribly — falling in a lake while having an allergic reaction), Billie thinks, “I hope she was thinking about herself. And me.” Are you kidding? Grace is literally dying in agony and Billie centers herself in the moment.
The Phone Nonsense
Another frustrating detail: Billie jumps into the water to try to save Grace, damaging her own phone. Later, she has Grace’s phone (which had stayed on land and worked fine) but immediately smashes it against a wall in frustration not long after Grace’s death. It was her last tangible link to her best friend, and she destroys it without a second thought. Then later mourns it as though it’s some tragic loss — as if she wasn’t the one who literally threw it against a wall. She’s not the brightest.
The Park Map & Missing Timeline
One of the very few things the book did right was including a nice map of the theme park at the front. It was genuinely helpful to track where the characters were during chase scenes or as they snuck around. Unfortunately, what the book desperately needed alongside that was a timeline. Between the opening years of rides, when Gooseberry was supposedly installed and removed, and the history of past incidents and murders, it was impossible to keep track. The book inserts little interview transcripts and character one-liners that drop conflicting dates and facts. I still don’t fully understand when the park was built, which rides were original, when Gooseberry disappeared, or which murder Gooseberry was allegedly involved with. A simple timeline page would’ve saved so much confusion.
The Ending
The ending is a convoluted mess. Connor’s motives barely make sense. It’s confirmed he’s being paid off by High Park higher-ups, and though there’s money involved, the book never follows up on who exactly in the company orchestrated everything. It ends with a vague YouTube -style post hinting someone’s getting fired. Who? Why? The book can’t be bothered to explain.
Even a major death — Randy’s — is poorly handled. Initially said to be a heart attack, then possibly a broken neck, then poison. No one checks the body again or clarifies anything.
Final Thoughts
I’ve read plenty of flawed books, but Murderland was uniquely aggravating. It felt like a first draft that no one properly edited or fact-checked. The characters are inconsistent, the plot is riddled with holes, and the dialogue ranges from awkward to cringeworthy. No humor, no swooning, no satisfying mystery payoff.
Verdict:
Unless you’re morbidly curious about how not to write a murder mystery, skip this. The only thing murdered here was narrative logic.
Honestly just read Fantasicland instead