A lean, wonderfully written story of a husband and wife, serial killers who target only bad men who deserve it: primarily rapists and sexual abusers. While the two couldn’t come from more dissimilar backgrounds—British Hazel has dragged herself out of a childhood of poverty and neglect and is now a successful painter, while American Fox, a finance guy, descends from one of the USA’s wealthiest, most prominent families. But it was their joint passion for murder that brought them—and keeps them—together. Until, that is, in this version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Hazel discovers she is pregnant, and off to the London suburbs they go. At Fox’s insistence, they agree to no more murders until baby Bibi is 21—how can they risk incarceration, which would leave Bibi an orphan? But Hazel can barely tolerate motherhood, never mind forgoing murders, and it’s thanks to her one “mom friend,” Jenny, that she is able to keep it together. Until she suspects Fox of harboring secrets, she develops a few herself, and Jenny turns out to be, of all things, a cop. The pace is just perfect, the characters alternately funny and dark, and the head-spins relentless.
Family Life
Social media replaces life for the Iverson family, which is headed by freezing-cold May Iverson, whose Mother May I videos have chronicled the childhoods and now young adulthood of her daughters January, March, April, and twins June and July. Their real last name is Iniesta, but their Latino father and mixed-race identities are mostly swept under the carefully curated rug, except when it works for May to use it as content. The girls are both hyper-aware of their every movement as fodder for videos—how could they not be, when a genuine emotion is met with the request to do it again for the camera?—and bone-deep in the influencer life. It all threatens to collapse when May’s second husband, happily for the brand named August, is found murdered at their white-on-white home, a fire set seemingly to cover the crime. As though from multiple camera angles, the narrative unfolds over different time lines and from various characters’ perspectives, including, perfectly, “We Who Grew Up Watching the Iversons” and “We the Followers of Mother May I.” As the engaging and incredible lives of the Iverson/Iniestas unspool, a grotesque view of modern life is put under the microscope, with no pink-marble stone left unturned. One for We Who Grew Up Watching the Kardashians, of course, but also for fans of family drama and sociological skewerings.
Tabitha is compelled by the spiteful actions of her ex-husband to move back to her childhood home. This is not a cozy, safe space as one might hope. It is a sort of compound: two schoolhouses on different sides of a reservoir, one occupied by her family, the other by her uncle’s family. In the past, four cousins, Tabitha the youngest, ran and played like a pack. But her mother is an unstable artist, her father and uncle killed themselves, and her sister and cousin married each other at age 16. Now, cousin Davey purportedly dies by suicide as well, leaving his property to Tabitha. But is that what really happened? Davey’s two cronies, along with three smart teens, use skills learned from TV crime dramas and DNA analysis to get to the bottom of it all. The characters are captivating, the atmosphere is dark and dour, and the wretched weather contributes to the overall tone of the book. The novel is set in Scotland and the use of Scottish dialect and expressions is sometimes daunting, but never gets in the way of the telling. To say that the plot here is a tangled mess may be an understatement, but the untangling is a treat.
Even during her sly, vicious husband Ryan’s “good” moments, Ciara feels “part of her body (toe tips, ear lobes, the backs of her knees) is listening, tense, on high alert.” And in his bad moments, “The toppled chair. The smashed bulb. The broken handle. Her bones and blood.” She’s left before, but his rage at her absence was too dangerous to endure. But when she sees a new opportunity, she takes her two small daughters and flees. Here the reader will begin to understand the naivete of “why doesn’t she just leave?” (Why doesn’t anybody ever ask why he doesn’t “just” leave?). Dublin’s rental market is impossible, so Ciara and the children are homeless, forced to stay in a cramped hotel room provided by the city. Ciara, who is pregnant with her third child, has no job, at controlling Ryan’s insistence, of course. Her mother-in-law tells her that she’s going to hell for treating “poor Ryan-Patrick” this way. Child support is non-existent, and Ryan is determined to take full custody of the children even though he appears to hate them and has never lifted a finger to care for them. Watching Ciara claw her way out of this is a gripping view of endurance, terror, bravery and the small and large kindnesses that make her life bearable. The characters here are superbly drawn, the dialog spot on, and I can’t wait for more from this debut novelist.
The Jansen family is newly arrived in LA from Melbourne, Australia. Janus, the father of the family, is sure the screenplay of his successful novel will be their fortune. Things take a very sinister turn when daughter Liv wakes with a hangover and bruises, and her parents seem furious with her. Her bedroom is padlocked shut—it’s the law, Janus and wife Kay say, because there’s a mold issue. Son Casper suspects that there’s something much worse afoot; his parents won’t talk to each other and barely seem aware of him, and that locked room is suspicious. Liv herself can’t remember anything but starts to catch on that there’s a problem when her friend who was out with her on the mysterious night in question won’t return texts. What happened? That’s carefully revealed in a tense psychological thriller that masterfully examines love and fear from every angle. The fully fleshed out teenage characters make this a solid YA crossunder. Get it on your TBR list!
A deep investigation into the lives of two women: a mistress and her maid. Maju is one of scores of the “white army,” maids and nannies in São Paulo; she cares for young Cora, whose parents pay the child little attention. Fernanda, Cora’s mother and a successful TV executive, is uniquely self-involved; even when Maju and Cora disappear one day, Fernanda can’t stop obsessing over an affair she’s having long enough to focus on her own daughter’s abduction. Dad, meanwhile, has pretty much checked out. But once Fernanda does realize her daughter is gone, her whole world begins to cave in. Maju and Cora, meanwhile, have boarded a bus for a multi-day trip that Maju barely plans—they have limited food and money—and that begins to unravel after the first day. Each woman is confronted by a harrowing series of events that forces them to confront maternal guilt, poverty, and society’s expectations.
Novelist Grady Greene can’t wait to share his good news with his wife, Abby: he’s just made the New York Times bestseller list. He calls her, she’s driving home and not far from their house, only to hear her slam on the brakes, telling him that someone is lying on the road. Then silence. Grady heads out to find her and discovers that the car is empty, the door wide open, her cellphone abandoned, and Abby gone. So begins Grady’s year of mourning for his disappeared wife. To break his melancholia, and kick-start his work on his next book, his agent offers a little cabin on a barely habited Scottish isle. Grady takes her up on the offer, only to discover that there is, you guessed it, no way off the island—what ferry schedule?—and the two dozen or so female-only residents are a bit beyond odd. But oddest of all? The quick glimpses he has of a woman who is the spitting image of his wife. The creepiness, the occasional bursts of humor, the horrendous history, and of course the inevitable twists, all of which layer over one another, make for one terrifying ride.
I love the kind of us-and-them stories set in places like the Hamptons, and the latest by DeCarolis (The Guilty Husband, Deadly Little Lies) is packed with twists. Alex and Maddie Walker are sisters who look so alike and are so close in age that people think they’re twins. Their mother referred to them that way, a glimpse of love amid her boozy, selfish ways. Now Mom’s long gone, and the sisters, who are now in their twenties, are distant after an argument that followed her funeral. But when Alex doesn’t hear from Maddie, who has been in the Hamptons for the summer, she heads to that tony town to get to the bottom of things. What she finds is very strange—Maddie had been living at one of the swankiest houses in the area, Blackwell Manor. Alex stays with the Blackwells herself, keeping a safe distance from their rich but miserable lives—until things take a turn when another young woman goes missing. As Alex becomes a thorn in the police’s side, she uncovers secrets about the present and the distant past. Dark sexual themes feature amid the absorbing suburban suspense that’s told from multiple, tantalizing viewpoints.
If you like a jaw-dropping twist, this is the book for you, and I mean the reaction literally: at one point in this great domestic drama, one character whispers a closing remark to another that literally made my mouth hang open. And that wasn’t the last surprise. The drama concerns a missing child, Laika Martenwood, whose English family’s treatment by the media after she’s gone will remind readers of the real-life McCann family, dragged through the tabloids after their daughter was snatched. The Martenwoods are more dysfunctional than even the tabloids say, though. The father is one of the most loathsome characters to come along in a while; his wife is so psychologically abused that she can’t leave and can’t protect her children from him; and daughters Willa and Laika are relentlessly mocked and bullied by the horrible man. As the book opens, we find Willa as an adult, barely hanging onto the life she’s cobbled together while agonizing over whether her sister is still alive, where she could be, and what happened to her all those years ago. Moving back and forth in time, Collins puts the media and family ties under a magnifying glass, in the process reminding readers that just as things don’t break on their own, they don’t have to stay broken.
A delightful satire—fun, fast, and furious—of the high-flying tech industry. Every year adtech start-up Aurora brings together its top executives for a weekend retreat (think PowerPoint presentations and Jet Skis), this year, it’s in Miami Beach. It’s quite a cast of characters: for starters, the CEO models himself on Churchill. In the hands of other novelists, the cast could become a messy menagerie. But each character here is so well-defined, beginning with the company’s latest hire, Caitlin Levy, Head of Events (curious since Aurora has never sponsored an event). But just when the second day has started and everyone is beginning to sober up, there’s the announcement that the company has been sold, and suddenly everyone is if not very, very rich, then quite rich. It would be time to celebrate, except that one of the high-level executives has disappeared. And the entire retreat is under surveillance by the tech media, who can sniff a good story. Like Rosenblum’s first novel, Bad Summer People, this novel delights in exploring what lies under the surface. The adtech folks would call that a deep dive.