You’ll Never Forget Me by Isha Raya
Publisher: Ballantine | Bantam
Thank you to Ballantine and NetGalley for the gifted ARC in exchange for my honest review.
You’ll Never Forget Me is a slick, twisted psychological thriller soaked in old-Hollywood gloss and powered by two very unwell women circling each other like sharks in designer heels. It’s sapphic, it’s unhinged, it’s campy in the best way—and it wants you to root for bad decisions made by worse people. Mission accomplished.
Dimple Kapoor, our anti-heroine, is a struggling actress with a gift for manipulation and a track record of “accidental” murders. The book opens with her killing her rival Irene Singh—technically an accident, but let’s not kid ourselves—and sliding into the exact role that had her auditioning for second-best her whole life. Dimple doesn’t just want the spotlight. She wants the entire stage cleared of competition. And if that means a few bodies drop along the way? Well, the show must go on.
Enter Saffi Mirai Iyer, a high-profile private investigator with a sharp mind, colder heart, and a face that belongs in a slow-burning indie drama about secrets. She’s hired by Irene’s wealthy parents to find their daughter’s killer, and within about three seconds, she’s pretty sure it’s Dimple. The twist? Instead of immediately hauling her off to jail, Saffi invites her to “assist” in the investigation—as bait. This is where the book leans hard into its camp-noir energy. It’s ridiculous. It’s melodramatic. It’s absolutely irresistible.
Raya doesn’t pretend this setup is grounded in realism. That’s not the point. The book is less interested in procedure than it is in obsession, power, and the way ambition rots when you feed it too much. The story revels in the tension between these two women—Dimple, calculating and desperate to be loved; Saffi, emotionally constipated and drawn to destruction. Their chemistry is like a lit match hovering over spilled gasoline. It’s not always believable, but it is fun to watch.
Now, let’s talk pacing. The beginning is electric—sharp prose, high stakes, and a clear hook. Then, in true thriller fashion, the middle gets a bit murky. The book wants to juggle noir aesthetics, psychological tension, and a slow-burn romance, and occasionally it drops a ball. There are moments where the plot meanders or relies on conveniences so absurd they break immersion. Dimple joining the investigation team after murdering one of the victims is particularly baffling if you’re trying to take any of this seriously.
But if you treat this book less like a crime thriller and more like a stylized fever dream about fame, morality, and the kind of queerness that doesn’t want to be sanitized—then it works. Raya has no interest in writing likable women. She writes compelling ones. Dimple is a standout: part femme fatale, part lost girl, part chaos goblin with a death wish. Her self-awareness is cutting; her motivations are messy. She doesn’t murder for fun—she murders because she’s cornered, she’s scared, and because she thinks it’s her only way forward. She’s a monster, sure, but she’s a deeply human one.
Saffi, on the other hand, is harder to pin down. For someone with such a sharp reputation, she often comes across as distracted, even confused. Her obsession with Dimple simmers but never quite boils over. And while the romantic tension is there, it never fully ignites. Some readers will find that frustrating. Others, like me, might find it more honest to the toxic dynamic being portrayed. They’re not lovers. They’re reflections of each other’s ruin. And sometimes that’s more interesting.
One of my favorite elements was how the book critiques Hollywood’s treatment of South Asian women—the way actresses like Dimple and Irene are interchangeable to casting directors, and how Dimple internalizes that erasure until she’s willing to do anything, even kill, to be the one who gets remembered. The book’s title isn’t just a threat. It’s a plea.
Quote that stayed with me:
“It doesn’t matter how hard you work—Hollywood picks someone to love, and most times, it isn’t you.”
Let’s be clear: this book will not be for everyone. If you like your thrillers tidy, your romances wholesome, or your protagonists morally redeemable, look elsewhere. This is for the readers who loved Killing Eve, Gone Girl, or A Simple Favor and thought, “What if we made it even messier—and gayer?”
Is it perfect? No. The plot sometimes twists itself into knots. The ending might frustrate readers looking for clarity or justice. But it’s bold, stylish, and compulsively readable. Isha Raya swung big with her debut, and while not every risk lands, enough of them do to make this a memorable ride.
Final verdict:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4/5 stars)
Read it for the vibes. Stay for the chaos.
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