June 20, 2015
This isn't the kind of book is normally read. It came up as the current Big Library Read book through my elibrary, and since I enjoyed the last one so much, I decided to go for it. That was kind of a mistake, because in my opinion, this book is pretty crappy. For anybody who likes predictable mystery books or cheesy Lifetime movies, this novel might be an enjoyable read. I really didn't like anything about it.
First off, the characters in this book work for a cable news network, sort of like MSNBC. I don't even have cable, and I hate "entertainment news" and political pundits, so right away I had a bias against the characters. Robin, the main character, is the cohost of a celebrity news show. She repeatedly explains the difficulties in her past: a psychotic stepmother, a divorce from a cheating husband, an injury that stalled her career. But she's on this hot new show, and she's just published a book about...well, I don't really know what the hell her book is about, because the text barely gets into that. Life is good for Robin.
But then, creepy things start happening to her. She gets a threatening note at a party, a Barbie doll with the eyes cut out, that kind of thing. She believes, until the weak climax, that it's the host of another show on her network who feels threatened by her rising star power. There are other people who seem suspicious, too. But the actual culprit is someone you're not supposed to suspect...I called it about a quarter of the way in.
Now, the predictability of the book wasn't my biggest issue. This book is just really boring. Robin, as narrator, is repetitive and self-absorbed. The book pretty much consists of her worrying and complaining. There are some laughable sex scenes, and a murder that you can see coming from a mile away. This book could have been half its length, and that would have improved it some.
The characters aren't likable, the plot is unoriginal, and the narrative is dull. I might have liked this book if I were in middle school. I've written before about how I read a lot of Mary Higgins Clark in 7th grade. I felt like the characters seemed kind of old-fashioned, so the pop culture references in this book would have impressed my 13-year-old self. My more-than-twice-as-old self? Not so much.
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