A reporter with a dark past returns to her roots as she investigates a serial killer in her own hometown.
I'm all for a dark, twisted mystery with a journalist at its core. But when dark and twisted turns into really really messed up for absolutely . no reason beyond making the reader feel uncomfortable, I start to lose interest. And this book was one of those situations.
The main character, Camille Preaker, who is played by Amy Adams in the equally dark HBO mini series of the same name, seemed less like a real character and more like a caricature of vices created to maximize the dark, creepy feelings that permeate literally everything about this book. And that so distracted me that I almost didn't even care about the mysterious circumstances surrounding the deaths of the girls.
Which, speaking of, weren't that mysterious. I was so easily distracted because there wasn't a whole lot left for the reader to discover. You kind of know what's going on. It just takes a lot longer for the characters in the book to catch up, making them both terrible humans and detectives.
Unless you're a die hard Gillian Flynn fan, skip this one.