Content warnings: misogyny, physical abuse, domestic violence
Madison Kelly, private investigator, comes home from a jog to find a note, and her hair, stabbed to her front door: “Stop investigating me, or I will hunt you down and kill you.” Unfortunately, Madison is in a career lull, and isn’t investigating anyone. The only way to figure out who’s threatening her is to risk her life, and start investigating the letter.
There are several ways that Anonymous falls into clichés, but one of its largest, and most pervasive problems, is its heroine. Madison is every overused bestseller PI trope, rolled into one blonde, tall, beautiful package. She’s smarter than everyone else around her. (She doesn’t, however, understand California law about what constitutes stalking). She hates guns, but she manages to have one at the ready every time she needs one. She’s better at following someone than the police. She manages to have three men vie for her attention and affection somehow. And, because each detective protagonist has to have a quirk, she has a double mastectomy with reconstruction (which she brings up at many points), and EXTREMELY unlikely luck, which is also stated without irony several times in the text. She is so fortunate, in fact, that she manages to find a cell phone lost by a murder victim 4 years ago by dropping a bracelet, which she slides out along with the phone. She also has a habit of name-dropping famous mystery authors, like Sue Grafton, and comparing herself to them.
Warning: Beyond this point, there are SPOILERS for Anonymous. I normally omit as many plot details as possible, but I would not be able to explain some of the problems with this novel without discussing the weak points of its plot.
Worse than being an extreme example of a Mary Sue, the narration provided by Madison has a heavy undercurrent of internalized misogyny. At one point in the novel, Madison meets a woman who wants to hire her in order to help with a divorce from her physically abusive husband—but the husband finds out about the meeting beforehand, and knows Madison’s name. Madison immediately condemns her as a “stupid woman,” and goes on a tangent about hating dumb women, before telling the wife that she’s on her own, and that she made a stupid mistake in an unprofessional and disrespectful way. Later in the story, Madison calls her again, and the wife has done just as she’s asked: left the husband, and gone to stay with a relative. Madison takes a moment to reflect on this, instead of as a positive development, as a waste of her time caused by a rich, spoiled woman who only wanted more money in her divorce. In addition to she characterizes of cancer patients with a worse prognosis/more aggressive treatment of her as weak people, and frames walking out of the cancer center after surgery as a victory over not becoming one of them. Madison’s thinly-veiled superiority complex reveals her as an extremely offensive and unlikable protagonist with few redeeming factors, even for a reader who likes antiheroes or protagonists with major flaws.
Unfortunately, the novel’s other characters aren’t any better. Many are stereotypes, especially of blonde surfer men, police officers, or Hispanic women. Furthermore, a lesbian character is included, but is characterized as unintelligent, obsessive, and annoying by Madison, and has very little to do in the plot. I can’t help but feel that it would have been less derogatory to omit this character than to include her in the novel, as it feels like tokenism.
The settings of the novel are less than exciting, as they’re areas that are reproduced time and time again in mystery novels and TV: beaches, coffee shops, bars, restaurants, apartments. The pacing isn’t slow, but if you’re familiar with the mystery genre, there’s a good chance that you’ll realize key elements of the plot before its heroine does. The conclusion of the book makes logical sense, but also is less than satisfying, as it takes several deus ex machina to get there. Madison hasn’t changed much by the end, either, apart from admitting a tiny bit of fear to her surfer love interest, who returns the affectionate confession – who then, inexplicably, runs away from the scene of Madison’s near-murder because he sees a great wave.
I can’t recommend Anonymous in its current state, although I normally love to let people know about books with a strong female lead. Its quality would have been greatly improved by rethinking its main character, using a sensitivity reader, and relying less on luck or statistically impossible circumstances to push the plot forward.