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justinkhchen's reviews
517 reviews
Last Case at a Baggage Auction by Eric J. Guignard
4.0
4 stars
Last Case at a Baggage Auction is a very engrossing mystery/horror novella in the 'haunted object' sub-genre. In this tale the object in question is an antique gramophone accompanied by records of unknown content; the story follows Charlie, an eager vintage collector, and the outlandish effects this object has on the tenants within his hotel-converted apartment building.
Think Japanese horror film Ringu crosses with Indiana Jones—the novels takes its time staging the artifact's disease-like influence with characters' small behavioral peculiarities, until it reaches its sinister climax in the book's last act, which is expertly executed by Eric J. Guignard with his cinematic, out-of-this-world vision. I'm also pleasantly surprised by the revelation of actual historical figure/fact, which grounds the story to reality, and intensifies the horror (also brought me down a rabbit hole Googling more on this subject matter afterward).
At 8 short chapters, I wish we have gotten a little bit more story, particularly between Ch.7 and Ch.8, where the outcome of several characters (and location) remains unresolved. Also due to the condensed novella format, some plot points seem overly convenient: such as the protagonist getting all the useful information through a single resource. Lastly, while the story clearly states it took place in the 60s, during reading it constantly felt like it's set in earlier decades, closer to the 30s-40s. Perhaps this is due to the immediate issue at hand and the prime location (the gramophone and the hotel) being remnants from the earlier time, but I do wonder if there are ways to further solidifies its 1960s time period.
In the end, Last Case at a Baggage Auction was a blast, with an imaginative fact-based hook, and a cast of well-rounded classic mystery characters.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Last Case at a Baggage Auction is a very engrossing mystery/horror novella in the 'haunted object' sub-genre. In this tale the object in question is an antique gramophone accompanied by records of unknown content; the story follows Charlie, an eager vintage collector, and the outlandish effects this object has on the tenants within his hotel-converted apartment building.
Think Japanese horror film Ringu crosses with Indiana Jones—the novels takes its time staging the artifact's disease-like influence with characters' small behavioral peculiarities, until it reaches its sinister climax in the book's last act, which is expertly executed by Eric J. Guignard with his cinematic, out-of-this-world vision. I'm also pleasantly surprised by the revelation of actual historical figure/fact, which grounds the story to reality, and intensifies the horror (also brought me down a rabbit hole Googling more on this subject matter afterward).
At 8 short chapters, I wish we have gotten a little bit more story, particularly between Ch.7 and Ch.8, where the outcome of several characters (and location) remains unresolved. Also due to the condensed novella format, some plot points seem overly convenient: such as the protagonist getting all the useful information through a single resource. Lastly, while the story clearly states it took place in the 60s, during reading it constantly felt like it's set in earlier decades, closer to the 30s-40s. Perhaps this is due to the immediate issue at hand and the prime location (the gramophone and the hotel) being remnants from the earlier time, but I do wonder if there are ways to further solidifies its 1960s time period.
In the end, Last Case at a Baggage Auction was a blast, with an imaginative fact-based hook, and a cast of well-rounded classic mystery characters.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
A House at the Bottom of a Lake by Josh Malerman
5.0
5 stars
Ripe for discussion, A House at the Bottom of a Lake is an allegorical novella about the loss of innocence through the lens of horror. The surrealist approach might turn off some readers who are expecting a conventional narrative with a tangible villain or explanation, but if you're open to it, you'll be greeted with two relatable protagonists and an out-of-this-world imagination.
This is definitely a situation where the less you know going in, the more rewarding the reading experience will be. The premise follows two teenagers, Amelia and James, as they discover a sunken house at the bottom of a deserted lake. They are drawn to it with unknown fascination, at the same time as their relationship begins to blossom.
Josh Malerman's stream of consciousness writing style works beautifully here, immediately brings to life the youthful, contradicting persona of 17-year-olds. In addition, he constructs scenes vividly, in a fluid, dream-like manner; the happenings inside the sunken house have some of the most memorable moments I've ever read on paper. A novella really is the perfect carrier for this story—long enough to conjure a presence, but still concise without being bogged down by the specifics.
Comparing to cinema, if you are a fan of films such as Darren Aronofsky's Mother! or Ari Aster's Midsommar, that utilize horror tropes to evoke grander story about emotion and human nature, then A House at the Bottom of a Lake should be right up your alley.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Ripe for discussion, A House at the Bottom of a Lake is an allegorical novella about the loss of innocence through the lens of horror. The surrealist approach might turn off some readers who are expecting a conventional narrative with a tangible villain or explanation, but if you're open to it, you'll be greeted with two relatable protagonists and an out-of-this-world imagination.
This is definitely a situation where the less you know going in, the more rewarding the reading experience will be. The premise follows two teenagers, Amelia and James, as they discover a sunken house at the bottom of a deserted lake. They are drawn to it with unknown fascination, at the same time as their relationship begins to blossom.
Josh Malerman's stream of consciousness writing style works beautifully here, immediately brings to life the youthful, contradicting persona of 17-year-olds. In addition, he constructs scenes vividly, in a fluid, dream-like manner; the happenings inside the sunken house have some of the most memorable moments I've ever read on paper. A novella really is the perfect carrier for this story—long enough to conjure a presence, but still concise without being bogged down by the specifics.
Comparing to cinema, if you are a fan of films such as Darren Aronofsky's Mother! or Ari Aster's Midsommar, that utilize horror tropes to evoke grander story about emotion and human nature, then A House at the Bottom of a Lake should be right up your alley.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Before She Knew Him by Peter Swanson
4.0
4 stars
Before She Knew Him reminds me structurally of the film Knives Out, where the culprit is revealed very early on in the story; Matthew IS a killer—but that's not the point; the intrigue instead is centered around the cat and mouse chase between the two protagonists, and the unlikely friendship that formed between two people in conflict.
The plot twist, while still remains a satisfying direction, is really not as big of a surprise as the novel made it out to be. For a seasoned thriller reader, the hints along the way are quite explicit at pointing the narrative towards a specific direction, which slightly dampened the impact of the 'reveal'.
Still, Before She Knew Him remains a very cinematic, image-conjuring read; Peter Swanson has crafted two very interesting, dimensional protagonists in Hen and Matthew, and it was a worthwhile journey understanding their inner struggles, past demons, and how their relationship send ripples across the people around them.
Before She Knew Him reminds me structurally of the film Knives Out, where the culprit is revealed very early on in the story; Matthew IS a killer—but that's not the point; the intrigue instead is centered around the cat and mouse chase between the two protagonists, and the unlikely friendship that formed between two people in conflict.
The plot twist, while still remains a satisfying direction, is really not as big of a surprise as the novel made it out to be. For a seasoned thriller reader, the hints along the way are quite explicit at pointing the narrative towards a specific direction, which slightly dampened the impact of the 'reveal'.
Still, Before She Knew Him remains a very cinematic, image-conjuring read; Peter Swanson has crafted two very interesting, dimensional protagonists in Hen and Matthew, and it was a worthwhile journey understanding their inner struggles, past demons, and how their relationship send ripples across the people around them.
Docile by K.M. Szpara
3.0
3.5 stars
The novel's biggest accomplishment lies in its characterization of the dual-protagonists, Elisha and Alex; told through alternating chapter in first-person, K. M. Szpara fluidly bounces between the two unique voices, and effortlessly blurs them when needed as the novel dives into its central theme: the power (and aftermath) of control and manipulation, and just who exactly was on the receiver end.
I enjoy the ambiguity the book reveals to the reader: yes, Elisha is the one explicitly being brainwashed, but at the same time Alex's behavior is also the direct result of being groomed for the convenience of his family legacy, and the expectation associated with his social status.
Beyond the stellar character development, the story as a whole is serviceable, if treading on overly-familiar territory. The futuristic Maryland feels half-baked, with inconsistent world details that sometimes feel too fantastical for an otherwise grounded rendering of the future.
While I was entertained throughout, at 489 pages, it did lose substantial momentum in the last quarter. Personally I think the story reached its emotional peak roughly around page 250; would've been a tighter narrative if it concludes at around 400 pages.
- The novel ends with a lengthy courtroom drama. Unfortunately, since readers have already experienced the events from both Elisha and Alex's perspective, very little is left for expansion; as the result this section feels like a unnecessary recap, and brings the story to a halt.
- On the contrary, with Abigail's condition being a driving force that kick-started the novel, it's resolution was disproportionately convenient—an antidote haphazardly prepared, was proved effective on the first try.
All in all, for a novel that sounds like a sleaze-fest on paper, even with its sci-fi elements a little predictable and under-cooked, Docile turns out to be a very engaging, tenderly written character study.
The novel's biggest accomplishment lies in its characterization of the dual-protagonists, Elisha and Alex; told through alternating chapter in first-person, K. M. Szpara fluidly bounces between the two unique voices, and effortlessly blurs them when needed as the novel dives into its central theme: the power (and aftermath) of control and manipulation, and just who exactly was on the receiver end.
I enjoy the ambiguity the book reveals to the reader: yes, Elisha is the one explicitly being brainwashed, but at the same time Alex's behavior is also the direct result of being groomed for the convenience of his family legacy, and the expectation associated with his social status.
Beyond the stellar character development, the story as a whole is serviceable, if treading on overly-familiar territory. The futuristic Maryland feels half-baked, with inconsistent world details that sometimes feel too fantastical for an otherwise grounded rendering of the future.
While I was entertained throughout, at 489 pages, it did lose substantial momentum in the last quarter. Personally I think the story reached its emotional peak roughly around page 250; would've been a tighter narrative if it concludes at around 400 pages.
Spoiler
- A later relationship Elisha developed with Onyx could've been substantially trimmed down; it was there purely to set up another sex scene, fulfilling the quota. (BTW, the sex/kink aspect is quite well integrated elsewhere in the book, and effectively written.)- The novel ends with a lengthy courtroom drama. Unfortunately, since readers have already experienced the events from both Elisha and Alex's perspective, very little is left for expansion; as the result this section feels like a unnecessary recap, and brings the story to a halt.
- On the contrary, with Abigail's condition being a driving force that kick-started the novel, it's resolution was disproportionately convenient—an antidote haphazardly prepared, was proved effective on the first try.
All in all, for a novel that sounds like a sleaze-fest on paper, even with its sci-fi elements a little predictable and under-cooked, Docile turns out to be a very engaging, tenderly written character study.
Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky
4.0
4 stars
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.
A head-spinning, intensely told horror allegory about faith and trauma.
Picked up this book blindly solely based on Kate's raving recommendation, as well as my own preference for the horror genre—and I can say confidently aside from a few nitpicks, the hype is well-deserved.
Just getting it out of the way: yes, I agree with a lot of readers regarding the depiction of 8-years olds in this book; their behaviors and dialogs are simply too mature to be anywhere close to age-appropriate. I can assume Stephen Chbosky specifically set this age range for dramatic reason, as there are many instances where the scenario becomes even more chilling, when they are performed to/by a kid rather than an early teen. They story did provide a plausible cause for this maturity, but I wish there was a more obvious switch when the 'contact' happened.
Imaginary Friend is like a runaway train, slowing adding speed until it's on the verge of derailment, but somehow still remaining on track. Just like the 'boiling frog' analogy constantly referenced in the story, it took its time scattering clues, and building an extensive cast of memorable characters, until its manic second half, where multiple story threads started to collide and converge in the most dumbfounding, shocking ways.
This relentless creativity turned out to be also this book's Achilles' heel: it simply doesn't know restraint; Imaginary Friend's story built up to a grand final confrontation, but reading it was exhausting due to its repeating false climax/resolution. While the individual scenes are still rendered with accomplished inventiveness, going through them consecutively is likes watching a bad slasher movie, where the killer just wouldn't stay dead (eye-roll).
A complex horror story with substance, Imaginary Friend's is about the inner demon, the skeleton in the closet, existing in all of us, and how it can be both a drive for success, or a bomb for destruction. While I wish the book is in the 500+ pages range, rather than 705, I am now forever scarred with imagery that will continue to show up in my nightmares.
Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata
4.0
4.5 stars
An explicit analysis of Asian Culture, and how it can be suffocating to people who don't fit in the expected standards.
I thoroughly enjoyed this novella, in part because I have lived in Asia in the past (Taiwan), and this book stirs up a lot of nostalgia—stepping into an Asian convenience store is an unique experience nonexistent anywhere else in the world, with its conditioned temperature, fluorescent light, shelves of product for purchase, and extremely standardized interaction from its staff. It also brings up the primary reason why my family chose to relocate out of Asia, because conforming to societal expectation is almost a requirement for survival.
In many ways this book is very 'Japanese/Asian', to the point I think foreign readers, without context, might interpret Convenience Store Woman as an exaggerated fantasy, but in reality quite close to the truth.
I interpret its ending as tragic, Keiko is ultimately trapped; Convenience Store Woman concludes a person can only be accepted by society if he/she participates in the most trivial activities at the expected stages of their life, such as sex, marriage, ambition, and willingness to gossip, no matter if he/she possesses other strength/talent (notice Keiko never receive a promotion, even within the convenience store microcosm).
I'm aware some people interpret Keiko as autistic, which definitely has its merit, though I want to believe Sayaka Murata is making a wider commentary, rather than targeting people with specific condition.
An explicit analysis of Asian Culture, and how it can be suffocating to people who don't fit in the expected standards.
I thoroughly enjoyed this novella, in part because I have lived in Asia in the past (Taiwan), and this book stirs up a lot of nostalgia—stepping into an Asian convenience store is an unique experience nonexistent anywhere else in the world, with its conditioned temperature, fluorescent light, shelves of product for purchase, and extremely standardized interaction from its staff. It also brings up the primary reason why my family chose to relocate out of Asia, because conforming to societal expectation is almost a requirement for survival.
In many ways this book is very 'Japanese/Asian', to the point I think foreign readers, without context, might interpret Convenience Store Woman as an exaggerated fantasy, but in reality quite close to the truth.
I interpret its ending as tragic, Keiko is ultimately trapped; Convenience Store Woman concludes a person can only be accepted by society if he/she participates in the most trivial activities at the expected stages of their life, such as sex, marriage, ambition, and willingness to gossip, no matter if he/she possesses other strength/talent (notice Keiko never receive a promotion, even within the convenience store microcosm).
I'm aware some people interpret Keiko as autistic, which definitely has its merit, though I want to believe Sayaka Murata is making a wider commentary, rather than targeting people with specific condition.
The Turn of the Screw by Henry James
3.0
3.5 stars
The rating on this one is a little tricky, while I didn't wholeheartedly enjoy the book, I'm glad I now have this classic under my belt, and can start picking up its influence on later work in the genre.
I will confess I did have to occasionally refer to SparkNotes, as the prose can get a little dense. Despite its novella length, it is not a book you can hastily devour, one due to its ornate, antiquated writing style, the other is that it is deliberately slow and convoluted: The Turn of the Screw really digs deep into unraveling the psyche of the governess, at her attempt at trying to cope and resolve the unnatural incidents at Bly.
This is a prime example where the discussion followed is more intriguing than the actual story. Henry James had crafted a perfectly ambiguous tale, where character action and incident can be interpreted on face value, or metaphorically. There are already tons of critics trying to 'solve' the mystery (I particularly enjoy the one from The New Yorker, by Brad Leithauser), but I like to think that both interpretations are equally valid.
At the end, reading The Turn of the Screw reminds me of reading Shakespeare in high school: not necessarily enjoyable during the process, but in retrospect it opened up my horizon and I appreciate the additional perspective I now have regarding my future reading.
The rating on this one is a little tricky, while I didn't wholeheartedly enjoy the book, I'm glad I now have this classic under my belt, and can start picking up its influence on later work in the genre.
I will confess I did have to occasionally refer to SparkNotes, as the prose can get a little dense. Despite its novella length, it is not a book you can hastily devour, one due to its ornate, antiquated writing style, the other is that it is deliberately slow and convoluted: The Turn of the Screw really digs deep into unraveling the psyche of the governess, at her attempt at trying to cope and resolve the unnatural incidents at Bly.
This is a prime example where the discussion followed is more intriguing than the actual story. Henry James had crafted a perfectly ambiguous tale, where character action and incident can be interpreted on face value, or metaphorically. There are already tons of critics trying to 'solve' the mystery (I particularly enjoy the one from The New Yorker, by Brad Leithauser), but I like to think that both interpretations are equally valid.
At the end, reading The Turn of the Screw reminds me of reading Shakespeare in high school: not necessarily enjoyable during the process, but in retrospect it opened up my horizon and I appreciate the additional perspective I now have regarding my future reading.
Rocking the Boat by C. Koehler
2.0
2 stars
C Koehler is evidently knowledgeable, and passionate about college rowing. and scenes surrounding the training and competition are easily the best aspect of Rocking the Boat. It is also a setting rarely used in a M/M romance, and one can't deny, from a shallow, aesthetic-driven perspective, it is a rather ripe choice to conjure up some steamy, sexy time.
While Rocking the Boat. delivers on the sex, it falters quite a bit on its story and character development. The crux of the novella relies on a character decision so absurd and illogical (having you best friend fake dating your crush to alleviate him from your mind), that the remaining narrative never fully recover from it. It depreciates the protagonist Nick, who has been written a little too naive, leaning into incredibly dumb territory (yes, going out in public with a boyfriend means the potential of being spotted, that shouldn't come as a sudden realization). The story is also quite constrained in its scope, with setting/scenario narrowly focused on rowing and relationship gossip, characters don't read like well-rounded adult individuals, but emotionally-obsessed teens where a phone call or text ruins one's life forever. Being melodramatic and angst is a valid stylistic choice, but when it is paired with the almost documentary style precision of the rowing portion, the clash between realism and comic book characters ended up subtracting the impact on both ends.
Lastly, seeing this was originally written in 2011, some of the word choice may seems problematic under today's climate; when characters are emotionally vulnerable, they are often described with phrases like "being like a girl" or "acting girly"—which on repeating occurrence, starts to sound extremely sexist. Hope this is something can be revisited prior to the re-release.
Rocking the Boat does have some highlights, but they are being dragged down by questionable plot choice and dated writing style. In it's current state, it reads a little more like a personal fantasy, rather than a fully fleshed-out publication.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
C Koehler is evidently knowledgeable, and passionate about college rowing. and scenes surrounding the training and competition are easily the best aspect of Rocking the Boat. It is also a setting rarely used in a M/M romance, and one can't deny, from a shallow, aesthetic-driven perspective, it is a rather ripe choice to conjure up some steamy, sexy time.
While Rocking the Boat. delivers on the sex, it falters quite a bit on its story and character development. The crux of the novella relies on a character decision so absurd and illogical (having you best friend fake dating your crush to alleviate him from your mind), that the remaining narrative never fully recover from it. It depreciates the protagonist Nick, who has been written a little too naive, leaning into incredibly dumb territory (yes, going out in public with a boyfriend means the potential of being spotted, that shouldn't come as a sudden realization). The story is also quite constrained in its scope, with setting/scenario narrowly focused on rowing and relationship gossip, characters don't read like well-rounded adult individuals, but emotionally-obsessed teens where a phone call or text ruins one's life forever. Being melodramatic and angst is a valid stylistic choice, but when it is paired with the almost documentary style precision of the rowing portion, the clash between realism and comic book characters ended up subtracting the impact on both ends.
Lastly, seeing this was originally written in 2011, some of the word choice may seems problematic under today's climate; when characters are emotionally vulnerable, they are often described with phrases like "being like a girl" or "acting girly"—which on repeating occurrence, starts to sound extremely sexist. Hope this is something can be revisited prior to the re-release.
Rocking the Boat does have some highlights, but they are being dragged down by questionable plot choice and dated writing style. In it's current state, it reads a little more like a personal fantasy, rather than a fully fleshed-out publication.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing
2.0
2.5 stars
An impulsive read with cheap thrills. While it certainly entertains, My Lovely Wife doesn't really deliver upon its 'Dexter meets Mr. and Mrs. Smith' promise. It's simply not as clever as it thinks.
I might have to reevaluate my perspective on modern thriller literature in general; as a lot of them seem to disregard basic logic and human behavior in favor of sensational drama, and the readership as a whole seem to be contempt with it (I don't see the issue being mentioned in reviews). There's always a time and place for taking creative license in order to generate an impactful narrative, but in My Lovely Wife, Downing disregarded some fundamental common sense in its setup, which resulted in absurdly convenient scenarios, and poor character development (the protagonist appeared more irrational than the author has intended).
**Light spoiler ahead**
- 'Tobias' pretends to be a mute to come in contact with potential candidates, within his own neighborhood and without any sort of physical disguise; unless we are pretending these bartenders/women are forever locked to a location, how can he guarantee he won't bump into people who previously recognize him as a mute? Sounds high risk, and the worst way to remain anonymous.
- 'Tobias' didn't even attempt to research the current whereabouts of the serial killer, before trying to frame the couple's act on him. (Even with the knowledge of him not being the 'best planner', and Millicent holding back the info for her own benefit), I can't foresee someone attempting an act of this scale not doing his due diligence on research.
- I can look pass a door/window lock not been updated in 10+ years, but you can't convince me a mansion won't be alarmed when the owner is away for an extended vacation.
- Hated how the character Holly is portrayed / utilized in the story; are we simply assuming she was completely at peace with being misdiagnosed/misunderstood all these years? And why would she proactively return to the proximity of Millicent, knowing exactly what her true character is? (I would've run far, far away).
- The book provided some explanation regarding how Millicent find the time to dispose Naomi, but how did she manage the 3 additional murders?
**Light spoiler ends**
The absurdity above definitely impacts my overall rating, as well as the lackluster resolution; which feels very 'thriller-cliché', betraying the intricacy the novel tries to construct up till then (So the mastermind Millicent simply became batshit crazy?! Would've wished she had kept her cool a little longer.) I do enjoy the family dynamic described in My Lovely Wife, particularly the inclusion of medias' influence on the kids' mental state. I thought the behavior they took on is a nice parallel to the parent.
All in all, with the amount of praise My Lovely Wife has received, I had high (perhaps misguided) expectation—the book met some, as in I was entertained, but missed the mark for me on some key factors.
An impulsive read with cheap thrills. While it certainly entertains, My Lovely Wife doesn't really deliver upon its 'Dexter meets Mr. and Mrs. Smith' promise. It's simply not as clever as it thinks.
I might have to reevaluate my perspective on modern thriller literature in general; as a lot of them seem to disregard basic logic and human behavior in favor of sensational drama, and the readership as a whole seem to be contempt with it (I don't see the issue being mentioned in reviews). There's always a time and place for taking creative license in order to generate an impactful narrative, but in My Lovely Wife, Downing disregarded some fundamental common sense in its setup, which resulted in absurdly convenient scenarios, and poor character development (the protagonist appeared more irrational than the author has intended).
**Light spoiler ahead**
- 'Tobias' pretends to be a mute to come in contact with potential candidates, within his own neighborhood and without any sort of physical disguise; unless we are pretending these bartenders/women are forever locked to a location, how can he guarantee he won't bump into people who previously recognize him as a mute? Sounds high risk, and the worst way to remain anonymous.
- 'Tobias' didn't even attempt to research the current whereabouts of the serial killer, before trying to frame the couple's act on him. (Even with the knowledge of him not being the 'best planner', and Millicent holding back the info for her own benefit), I can't foresee someone attempting an act of this scale not doing his due diligence on research.
- I can look pass a door/window lock not been updated in 10+ years, but you can't convince me a mansion won't be alarmed when the owner is away for an extended vacation.
- Hated how the character Holly is portrayed / utilized in the story; are we simply assuming she was completely at peace with being misdiagnosed/misunderstood all these years? And why would she proactively return to the proximity of Millicent, knowing exactly what her true character is? (I would've run far, far away).
- The book provided some explanation regarding how Millicent find the time to dispose Naomi, but how did she manage the 3 additional murders?
**Light spoiler ends**
The absurdity above definitely impacts my overall rating, as well as the lackluster resolution; which feels very 'thriller-cliché', betraying the intricacy the novel tries to construct up till then (So the mastermind Millicent simply became batshit crazy?! Would've wished she had kept her cool a little longer.) I do enjoy the family dynamic described in My Lovely Wife, particularly the inclusion of medias' influence on the kids' mental state. I thought the behavior they took on is a nice parallel to the parent.
All in all, with the amount of praise My Lovely Wife has received, I had high (perhaps misguided) expectation—the book met some, as in I was entertained, but missed the mark for me on some key factors.
The Dark Half by Stephen King
3.0
3 stars
Dimensional characters, some wonderfully chilling moments, and a powerful conclusion, Stephen King's The Dark Half would make an excellent novella, but as a novel, it suffers serious lag in its middle act.
The novel is very uniquely structured, not only is the book broken into parts, each chapter is further divided into 'sections'. The fragmentation accentuates the theme of multiplicity; who is Thad Beaumont, and who is George Stark? — who is real and who is fictional? Can the answer ever be definitive?
King proves again he can create a realistic, well-rounded writer character, evident from his previous attempts (The Shining and Misery). The Dark Half is also deeply autobiographical, as King himself also had written under a pen name (Richard Bachman) for a couple releases, and suffered a similar fate being discovered by a fan, and forced to be 'outed'. The novel is at its strongest when focusing on Thad and George; it's extremely compelling reading their motivation, and learning how they try to outsmart the other person, first to claim fame and creativity, and ultimately life.
The novel also contains a heavy presence of a third character, sheriff Alan Pangborn, who is the objective, non-believing counterpart when crazy (and oftentimes gruesome) events start to surface. This is where the novel takes a toll in its pacing. Told in multiple voices, the reader often foresees events not yet evident to this particular character; to re-read the same information regurgitated through Alan's perspective, and disproving the existence of George Stark (which the reader knows is incorrect), feels like a waste of time and the standstill ultimately dissipates momentum without adding worthwhile perspective.
Ultimately The Dark Half has great bones, if a little overstuffed in parts. To read this or not depends on your tolerance to meandering pacing; otherwise, maybe checking out the movie adaptation might be the way to go.
Dimensional characters, some wonderfully chilling moments, and a powerful conclusion, Stephen King's The Dark Half would make an excellent novella, but as a novel, it suffers serious lag in its middle act.
The novel is very uniquely structured, not only is the book broken into parts, each chapter is further divided into 'sections'. The fragmentation accentuates the theme of multiplicity; who is Thad Beaumont, and who is George Stark? — who is real and who is fictional? Can the answer ever be definitive?
King proves again he can create a realistic, well-rounded writer character, evident from his previous attempts (The Shining and Misery). The Dark Half is also deeply autobiographical, as King himself also had written under a pen name (Richard Bachman) for a couple releases, and suffered a similar fate being discovered by a fan, and forced to be 'outed'. The novel is at its strongest when focusing on Thad and George; it's extremely compelling reading their motivation, and learning how they try to outsmart the other person, first to claim fame and creativity, and ultimately life.
The novel also contains a heavy presence of a third character, sheriff Alan Pangborn, who is the objective, non-believing counterpart when crazy (and oftentimes gruesome) events start to surface. This is where the novel takes a toll in its pacing. Told in multiple voices, the reader often foresees events not yet evident to this particular character; to re-read the same information regurgitated through Alan's perspective, and disproving the existence of George Stark (which the reader knows is incorrect), feels like a waste of time and the standstill ultimately dissipates momentum without adding worthwhile perspective.
Ultimately The Dark Half has great bones, if a little overstuffed in parts. To read this or not depends on your tolerance to meandering pacing; otherwise, maybe checking out the movie adaptation might be the way to go.