This book made me feel like I'd lost my mind.
So, the main character Annie is a mystery writer. Or...she wants to be. Unclear if she's actually finished anything. But it's her passion, so when she's confronted with a REAL mystery, this is her time to shine, right? This is a woman who wants to make a career out of writing about crimes getting solved. You assume she must have read extensively in the genre, knows all the ingredients to a good mystery, how to treat clues and all that. I mean you assume that, as a human person alive in contemporary times, she's at the very least come across some media about crime and has a basic understanding of how crime-solving works.
Then there's a murder of a woman who, famously, believed her whole life that she would be murdered. It's a little messy getting the cops to the scene, but they look it over and I guess say it was natural causes (???). Later, Annie's at the scene. She's poking around what should still be an active crime scene, but I guess the cops had too much cozy village stuff to do so they just bailed and left it as-is. And she finds what she thinks is the murder weapon. Oh dang! Well, time to back away and call back the incompetent cops who missed this obvious thing, right? Especially since the thing could cause further injury if handled. Right?
Right?
No. Annie grabs the potential murder weapon - yeah, picks it up with her bare hands - get it into a car, and takes it to the police station. Oh, of course it injures her as well. And the cop seems to be untroubled by the way this woman removed a weapon from a crime scene and then transported it elsewhere, contaminating any evidence that might have still been available under all her added fingerprints.
I - what? I'm just, I'm so sorry. This is like writing a main character who desperately wants to be an astronaut, who then finally gets to NASA, looks around, and asks the first person she sees, "So how do we get to the moon? Do we take a car?" And then agents, editors, friends, and everyone else who read the book gets to that part, sees no problem with it in any capacity, the book gets printed and lands in my hands, and I think I've gone absolutely stark raving mad because there are also hundreds of reviews where NOBODY ELSE mentions this insane, glaring, obvious, ridiculous, dismaying moment that completely removes any credibility from the main character and also demonstrates an astonishing lack of care not just for the genre but for, like, the intelligence of the reader...I just...what? Anyway, then the main character finishes the book by going to the moon because she's just sooo smart actually, and everyone else at NASA ferries her around and holds her hand on the way.
This book is apparently the start of a series, which feels like a threat, but at least explains why most of the bloated cast of characters barely gets any characterization. It also explains the glanced over suggestion of a future love triangle where one of them is a jerk and the other is a cop, gag me with a spoon. I have to also point out the very strange writing style here in which the present day narrator has the voice of a teenager (seriously, how old is she supposed to be? she acts like a 17 year old but apparently graduated from Central St. Martins which is an incredibly prestigious school to go to for a person who didn't commit to a career in fashion and also acts pretty dumb) while the flashback scenes (allegedly journals, but written narratively with full dialogue which I'd complain about were the rest of this book not so much worse) that are actually from the perspective of a 17 year old seem much more maturely written.
I'm so glad this book is over.
My thanks to Penguin Group Dutton and NetGalley for the ARC.