This was a pain to read. I felt like some kind of bookish Dementor was sucking out my passion for reading, honestly. It would have been another addition to my did-not-finish shelf if I didn't need it for my A-to-Z.
I already don't really like short story collections, but I have an especially potent distaste when the short stories aren't even good. You finished each one thinking, "What was the point of that?"; they had no discernible meaning, they evoked little to no emotional response from the reader and were essentially pointless. You know something is amiss when a short story titled "A Sad Tale" is unequivocally not sad.
I think we are all familiar with the feeling of dread you get when you start a new book and the opening is terrible and you aren't grasped by the story... now imagine that feeling recurring 10 times and never actually improving at any point. That was this book. The eponymous short story "The Boy Who Could See Death" had an interesting premise, and it began well. But it ended up being drier than the Sahel Region, and I was left disappointed and wasted as a human being. This short story was the one that actually begun me on this journey through the circles of hell, and yet it was not even enjoyable to read.
I don't think a single one of the plethora of mundane characters had any more depth to their personalities than a puddle in the road. It would have been better if some colour was splashed into the black-and-white environment that the stories seemed to occur in, Jackson Pollock-style; maybe then the characters might have some feelings.
If you think you have seen clichés, you ain't seen nothing yet. Any mystery that may have been wringed out of this was ruined by the fact you guess the conclusion almost immediately after you have dug around for the thread of a storyline that was supposedly written in. "Kleptomania" is very much the doppelgänger of "The Necklace" by Guy de Maupassant in every sense, as doppelgängers are often uglier as well.
I think it is clear that I hated this book. I would feel bad about being so harsh about it in this review, but I am currently using all my sympathy on myself for having to spend a torturous evening getting through this book. I mean, you can read it if you feel like it but all I'm saying is, don't.
I'm sorry, Salley Vickers, but this was just deplorable for me, but I wish you all the best nonetheless.