4⭐️
Cruelty Free is a slow, unsettling unraveling that sneaks up on you. What hooked me early on was the structure. The way the story moves between the present day and the oral history surrounding the Devlin baby feels intentional and quietly manipulative. You think you’re being given context, but really you’re being trained to trust a version of events that may not deserve it. That tension carries beautifully through the first part of the book.
When the narrative shifts fully into the present in Part Two, everything starts to feel unsteady. Lila begins to unfurl in a way that is uncomfortable to witness, especially alongside Sylvie, who at first seems like a necessary ally. The two women are clearly wired the same way, shaped by parallel losses and obsessions, and together they feed something dark in each other. Lila resents Sylvie for being clingy and obsessive, yet she slowly becomes the same kind of person, fixating on her ex-husband with the same intensity she claims to despise. That contradiction feels very human and very intentional.
As their partnership escalates, the story leans hard into obsession, vengeance, and self justification. The revelation that the oral history of the Devlin baby is actually a published book reframes everything that came before it. Sylvie turning the interview subjects into a literal hit list is horrifying, but it also makes a twisted kind of sense given how far both women have already slipped. The idea of harvesting collagen from their victims to fuel Lila’s beauty line is grotesque and sharp, a brutal commentary on image, consumption, and cruelty packaged as self care.
The timeline fractures toward the end, and while it can be disorienting, it mirrors Lila’s mental state so closely that it felt earned rather than sloppy. By the time the truth surfaces about Josie, who took her, and what really happened all those years ago, the answer is devastating but inevitable. Everything catches up to Lila in the end, whether she’s willing to face it or not.
I listened to this as an audiobook, and the performance added a lot of emotional weight to the story. The shifts in tone and perspective were easy to follow, and the slow psychological collapse felt even more intimate in audio form. This is not a comfortable book, and it isn’t meant to be. It’s about obsession, hypocrisy, and the lies we tell ourselves to survive, until those lies become the most dangerous thing of all.
Many many thanks to Caroline Glenn, Harper Audio, William Morrow, and NetGalley for the opportunity to listen to this audiobook ahead of its release date. All thoughts and opinions are left voluntarily and are solely my own.