There's a chance that you're reading this review having stumbled across my new blog. Or more likely, been alerted to it via one of several Facebook posts about it that are going out this morning. If that's the case, perhaps you don't know that since reading my first book by Susie Lynes in December 2019, she has become one of my top two or three favourite authors. I have loved all bar one of every book she's written. And the fact that I didn't love - but still liked - the other one is OK too, because it just shows that even the most talented humans are still, well, human and can't hope to please everyone all of the time.
So there you go. If you didn't know that already, you do now.
This meant that when I first heard about this, her latest book's release date, I didn't even need to read the blurb in order to feel that childish flush of excitement similar to that of school breaking up for the long summer holidays. And when I got the email to say that I had been approved by Netgalley to read an early copy, I might actually have emitted a delighted little squeal.
First things first: I love the cover. I want to find that house, live in it and build a home office / reading room so that I can spend most days staring at the stunning sea views behind it. But I know that the book is a psychological thriller, so behind the seemingly wonderful surface there'll be something about to go horribly wrong ...
We find out what that something is as early as Chapter 2. Isla is at home and a bit drunk after a hard week at work when she gets a frantic phone call from her nephew Callum. There has been a fire at her sister, and Callum's mother Annie's house in Dorset. Annie and her partner Dominic are both dead. And it's only a few chapters later that Isla's already shattered world is turned upside-down when Callum is arrested and charged with Annie's murder.
The problem after this though is that with Callum in jail, awaiting trial and refusing to speak to Isla, the book is left with quite a lot of space to fill until the trial actually starts. These chapters are told alternately from the points of view of Annie, and the slow - ever so slow - unravelling of her seemingly idyllic life with the seemingly charming Dominic - and Isla's soul-searching of whether her nephew really can have killed her sister. What alternatives are there? How can she find out? And who can she trust?
I don't mind a slow opening to a book. Rather than have a thrill-a-minute, which gets my heart racing but my brain insisting that what's happening really isn't plausible, I'm quite happy to be gently drawn in to the characters' lives so that I'm sharing, believing, feeling everything they go through. This is something that Susie Lynes does beautifully and it's one of the reasons I love her books so much. Here, though, I couldn't help but feel that the opening was a little too slow and took a little too long.
Take the opening chapter, which starts with Isla looking at a photograph of her and Annie and recalling every detail of it being taken, which in turn leads to a rush of other memories from that time and after it. I loved it, but that's because my grandad was a photographer and the way he behaved when taking the picture was exactly - and I don't mean similar to, I mean exactly - as Susie Lynes has described it. But is it really relevant to the rest of the book? I'd have to say ... not really.
In the early chapters narrated by Annie, we get no clue as to what her life will turn into. We only know that something has to go drastically wrong because of Chapter 2, and because the book is a psychological thriller so that's fundamental. Meanwhile Isla's chapters largely involve her searching her own memories, trying to find that extra clue as to what might have happened on that fateful night. This is something that works wonderfully in Susie's previous novel, The Housewarming, in which a mother has somehow to deal with the sudden and unexplained disappearance of a child. But here, it worked less well for me for the simple reason that we already know Annie is dead and that actually, Isla didn't know her all that well. So the magnitude of the wondering, the fear, the desperation is lower. This meant that while I read the book easily, and with interest, I missed the hard emotional punches that I just know this author is able to deliver so well.
And then, finally, at about two-thirds in, comes the trial and Callum's first account as to what really happened on the night Annie died. There. There it is. There at last is that hold your breath, get punched and gasp moment that left me with the feeling that's alien in almost every other book I read, but that's becoming all too familiar in a Susie Lynes novel. The sensation of my hands starting to tremble as they hold my kindle, and my eyes starting to feel a bit warm and moist. From that point on I was well and truly glued to the book until the end, so it seemed only a few minutes later that the revelation came and ... wow. I had thought of several possible solutions to the story but hadn't seen THAT coming.
And there, really, is the book's best feature but also it's only real problem. It shows flashes of brilliance. The trouble is that the main theme - that of relationships turning abusive, and how the first reactions of the abused are to try and hide that even from themselves - is one that the same author has done so wonderfully in the outstanding and unforgettable The Lies We Hide. I read that book a year and a half ago and still remember how it had me in tears by Page 40 and gasping out loud in horror just a few chapters later. The One to Blame just isn't quite as powerful.
I know - because Susie took the trouble to explain it to me - that The Lies We Hide took longer to write and research than it's possible to undertake to meet a normal publishing deadline. I also know that she wrote The One to Blame during the second lockdown, at a time when she and her family were affected by Covid. I'm therefore probably being unfair here. However, the cold hard facts are that she has written The Lies We Hide, and that I can't help but make the comparisons. And in comparison ... I can't call The One to Blame disappointing, that would be ridiculous. I can't even write well enough myself to find the right words. But it somehow missed that ... that something.
The best I can do is to liken it to Isla's native Scotland. The One to Blame is a bit like Dumfries and Galloway. As you drive there from central England, leaving the Midlands, Manchester and Lancashire behind, you feel as though you're entering a new, open and somehow more peaceful world. And by the time you arrive and see the beauty of the area for the first time, you feel those troubles from the world you left behind fall off your shoulders. It's beautiful, I love it and I'd go back there again in a heartbeat.
But it's beauty can't help but be a bit diluted if you visit the area on your way home from the Western Highlands - pick just about anywhere between Fort William and Mallaig. This is where The Lies We Hide ranks - as does Can You See Her, for that matter. Every view you see is so breathtaking that you want to stop and take a photograph to try and keep it in the memory. Turn just one corner and the next is even more spectacular. And everywhere, all the time, is that beautiful.
My thanks - and they really are big, big thanks - to the author, Bookouture and Netgalley for an ARC of this book, which I have reviewed voluntarily and honestly. I will post my review on Goodreads now and on Amazon on publication day.
(4.5 stars)