Well. I could talk about how the editing's better in this book than the first, so that's a nice plus. Or how its two plot lines are so disparate and segregated that you could split it into two books with no harm done (not a plus). I was planning to make a crack about how you could create a drinking game about how frequently women in the book are described and categorized in disparaging, sexist terms, except that you'd die of alcohol poisoning halfway through, but hey! At least you wouldn't have to read any more! (For ex., petty and off-putting speculation that some minor characters are bulimic / anorexic; painting 10+ women of a sorority with the same "vapid, terrible, too stupid to read" brush; or my personal favorite, a character who's basically a walking dumb blonde joke who we're supposed to believe is so dumb, she doesn't even know how to advance a Powerpoint presentation.)
But really, there's only one thing you need to know about this wretched, wretched book: the way it's written, it wants its readers to have more sympathy for its antagonist than it does for the women he victimizes. No, really. We're thrown into his backstory for at least a fifth of the book's 400+ pages, while the women he kills never have a voice--they're entirely framed by the antagonist who, obviously, doesn't look on them kindly. We never get their side of the story re: the inciting incident that caused all this, just his. And when the antagonist is finally killed, he's described to be "at peace."
Just, you know, never mind the lady bleeding to death off-screen while that's happening. She's not important, I guess.
I'd give this zero stars if I could.