MacDonald, who parlayed everyday fears into spiraling paranoia so effectively in Not Guilty (2002), piles on the menace,...
The arson death of Britt Andersen’s long-estranged sister is all in a day’s woe in MacDonald’s latest round of domestic suspense.
Abandoned as a child by her mother, Boston TV producer Britt hadn’t spoken to Greta Lynch for 12 years, ever since their father died of cancer while Britt was away at college and Greta’s resentment at her own abandonment boiled over. Now Britt arrives in Coleville, Vermont, in the shadow of Mt. Glace, to find that her sister’s left a disconcerting legacy. Alec Lynch is so abrupt and unwelcoming that his daughter Zoe’s obvious affection and need for her newfound aunt are all the more awkward—especially once police chief Ray Stern rules the fire suspicious and Britt, convinced that Alec set it, trumpets her certainty to both Ray and Alec. Though Alec’s neighbor Kevin Carmichael, the high-powered attorney who plucked Zoe from the blaze, takes over his defense, his alibi is laughably weak, and the circumstantial evidence against him dauntingly strong. He’s obviously close to Laurie Rossi, the twinkie assistant at his snowmobile dealership; he’d rented a cozy little one-bedroom house even before Greta’s death; and the morning Britt arrives, he swiftly takes charge of the registered letter from a detective agency specializing in family surveillance that’s come addressed to Greta. The whole setup is all so pat that Britt is obviously misreading her surly brother-in-law as homicidal, leaving the field of suspects wide open (the Carmichaels’ spoiled surrogate mother? the ambitious local TV reporter? the self-righteous neighbors?). Yet the characters are too transparently themselves, too forthright in their accusations and defensive maneuvers, to keep their secrets hidden very long or very convincingly, and only the dullest readers will be as dumbfounded as Britt by the alleged surprises.
MacDonald, who parlayed everyday fears into spiraling paranoia so effectively in Not Guilty (2002), piles on the menace, suspicion, and deceit this time until the whole exercise shrieks formula.Pub Date: April 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-7434-2358-5
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2003
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.
Ten years after her teenage daughter went missing, a mother begins a new relationship only to discover she can't truly move on until she answers lingering questions about the past.
Laurel Mack’s life stopped in many ways the day her 15-year-old daughter, Ellie, left the house to study at the library and never returned. She drifted away from her other two children, Hanna and Jake, and eventually she and her husband, Paul, divorced. Ten years later, Ellie’s remains and her backpack are found, though the police are unable to determine the reasons for her disappearance and death. After Ellie’s funeral, Laurel begins a relationship with Floyd, a man she meets in a cafe. She's disarmed by Floyd’s charm, but when she meets his young daughter, Poppy, Laurel is startled by her resemblance to Ellie. As the novel progresses, Laurel becomes increasingly determined to learn what happened to Ellie, especially after discovering an odd connection between Poppy’s mother and her daughter even as her relationship with Floyd is becoming more serious. Jewell’s (I Found You, 2017, etc.) latest thriller moves at a brisk pace even as she plays with narrative structure: The book is split into three sections, including a first one which alternates chapters between the time of Ellie’s disappearance and the present and a second section that begins as Laurel and Floyd meet. Both of these sections primarily focus on Laurel. In the third section, Jewell alternates narrators and moments in time: The narrator switches to alternating first-person points of view (told by Poppy’s mother and Floyd) interspersed with third-person narration of Ellie’s experiences and Laurel’s discoveries in the present. All of these devices serve to build palpable tension, but the structure also contributes to how deeply disturbing the story becomes. At times, the characters and the emotional core of the events are almost obscured by such quick maneuvering through the weighty plot.
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.Pub Date: April 24, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5011-5464-5
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: Feb. 5, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2018
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