Camilla Sten’s debut was excellent. Pure excellence, a how to instant genre classic of an exciting and terrifying thriller. Naturally I was psyched to read her follow up. And I did. And this review is a chronicle of that disappointment.
It’s possible that coming out of the gate as strongly as Sten did, she simply set the bar too high for her subsequent efforts. It’s possible this and not its predecessor is the one off for an obviously talented author. But at any rate, this is a prime example of a sophomore slump and it’s just freaking sad. There’s none of Sten’s debut’s originality, none of its elan, none of its dynamism. What you get instead is a strictly by numbers genre story, an all in the family thriller set in a remote Swedish location for atmosphere and so geographically contained that it’s practically a locked estate mystery. It’s an estate the story’s protagonist, Eleanor, inherits from her recently murdered grandmother, a difficult, mercurial and imperious woman with some secrets in her closet. Eleanor promptly grabs her boyfriend and sets off to uncloset some of those secrets on location, along with her aunt and the estate lawyer. Once they get there, they notice that the longserving caretaker is missing and that is only the beginning of their difficulties. Some secrets don’t want to be known and some aren’t worth the effort to uncover. Granted, this estate, this family, has more secrets than most and darker ones at that, but the unearthing of them is so slow and what’s found is so clichéd that it seldom seems worth the effort. For this novel Sten took a minute by minute approach some thriller authors do, meaning the bulk of the narrative is dedicated to chronicling every minute moment and every momentous minute of the live of its characters and that’s fine to bulk up the word count, but doesn’t do much for the suspense building. In fact, the plot is so precisely so meticulously stretched out, you can see the seams straining to contain it. Because of course if the story hurried up, there wouldn’t be much of it. There aren’t even that many characters and the ones you have aren’t there aren’t even that likeable or interesting. The only interesting thing about Eleanor is her prosopagnosia (and how contrived it that), meaning that while she saw who offed her granny, she can’t tell who it was. Much like most thrillers of this kind, the narrative is split between the past and the present, with the past being an upstairs/downstairs melodrama and the present being…well, underwhelming. The weather locks the characters inside and there might be a killer lurking on the premises. Boohoo. Actually the entire production is melodramatic and underwhelming, especially considering that the author has already blatantly demonstrated she can do so much more. The writing is still good, you can’t get rid of that easily, Sten can write, but the plotting is subpar at best and pacing leaves much to be desired. There is a prerequisite ending plot twist and (kudos to Sten here) it isn’t a predictable one, but it’s also just another example of the questionable character psychology employed in this novel, from development to motivations. Overall, this was a disappointment. Sadly so. I would have read whatever Sten wrote based on the strength of her debut, this novel had very much the opposite effect. It isn’t terrible, mind you, it really isn’t. It’s just so blah, so slow, so average. I’m a huge genre fans, I love Scandinoir too, but there was just nothing here to wow the reader. And really, it’s Sten’s own fault, for being so good to begin with. Presumably her next book will be the one to tell which of these two was a typical Sten. Thanks Netgalley.
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