OK, I gotta admit right up front that Kylie’s book does not fall into what would traditionally be on my ‘must-read radar’. Or of any of my read radars. For starters: no Nazis. No car chases. Not even a gun. I mean, no gun WTF? All good writers when they sit down at their desks should think “What would Matthew Reilly do?”. When stuff gets interesting she doesn’t use italics to let her readers know. Again, Mr Best-Cussing-Seller Reilly does that.
That said, it’s not shit at all.
In fact, it was a surprisingly cracking read. I may be unable to read about good looking & rich people with problems without thinking boo-the-fuck-hoo (I struggled with The Chimney Sweeper’s Boy by Barbara Vine for exactly the same reason, I just didn’t give a fuck about the characters). However, Kylie is a wordsmith. The dilemmas feel genuine and repercussions aren’t solved with easy solutions. The characters evolve in a satisfactory manner. To her great horror, I may even classify the book as a page-turner (take THAT, literary snobs!).
Maybe it comes from Kylie’s dilly-dallying in the topic previously (you’ll have to google that, no not google images you sick… sigh…) but the plot feels real. I don’t know if you can compliment a book much more than by saying the suspension of disbelief was complete and the book itself completely enjoyable.
Chicks’ll dig it. Guys, I recorded UFC 110 Sydney. Let’s go watch it again because I’m feeling icky from reading chic-rom-lit-fic.
Lastly a public service announcement: Kylie Ladd is moving to a small country town in Northern Western Australia. You know people are going to start getting murdered once she does because of her… bio. She’s perfect murder story heroine fodder. Every thriller book has the small town cop who’s a single parent, the evil clergyman or the local Native American who just happens to know all the old stories (yes, even in Broome).
Well, Kylie is a highly regarded psychologist slash published author. If you don’t run screaming for the hills when she moves in next door you’ve got rocks in your head.
To top it off her husband is a IT specialist, which obviously really means “hacker”. Psychologists and hackers always live in Murderville.
Should I go on? (The answer is always yes). The cute-as-a-button psychologist loves her hacker husband and finds him adorable, despite the fact he’s not as handsome or suave as the single-parent cop who comes around to ask her for her help with a murder case. Hacker hubby helps her, right up to the point the psychopath traces the hacks back to her house and viciously kills him. You can see it, can’t you? Murder will follow Kylie because it MUST. Terry Pratchett called it narrativium.
Broome residents, you’ve been warned: get out. But come back for her wedding to the cop. It takes several books worth of murders so NOT TOO SOON! And don’t be a bridesmaid. I’m just saying.