THIS WEEKEND DOESN'T END WELL FOR ANYONE

Dead bodies disrupt a weekend writers’ retreat memorably narrated by a disgruntled author.

Cynical sleuths are no strangers to mystery fiction, but Eleanor Dash takes snark to an uncomfortable new level. Everything is a source of grievance to the bestselling author: her ex-boyfriend, Connor Smith; her sister/assistant, Harper, whom she’s itching to fire; her insufficiently attentive editor, Vicki Morgan; her former best friend, Sandrine, who dumped her; the outdated decor at the Bahamian resort hosting the retreat; the prospective authors she mentors, who rarely write to her standards; and the reviewers of her books, who sometimes wish she’d write better herself. Even the corpse on the floor of her hotel suite seems like a personal affront, causing an irksome encounter with Bahamian police and necessitating a change of rooms. It isn’t until a second death hits even closer to home that Eleanor shows much interest in finding the culprit. Mack’s trademark self-referential style is unique, and her teasing of a staggering number of possible solutions to the puzzle is awe-inspiring. But Eleanor’s relentless sense of victimization is too much of a downer to overlook. Bonding through a shared sense of grievance is increasingly popular these days but can be corrosive in ways Mack may not recognize. When Mack allows her heroine a flash of empathy, as when Eleanor shares a moment with a veteran writer who recognizes that her best days are over, she can be incandescent. Letting in more light would provide a welcome balance to Mack’s quirky style and offbeat sense of humor.

An oxymoron perhaps emblematic of the moment: a discontent cozy.