It was definitely more like Finders Keepers by Stephen King. Oh boy geez.
PSA: Do not read this book between the hours of 10pm and 2am in a strange house in a strange city with strange sounds drifting through the strangely open window. You won’t sleep. You will lie there wondering just how long you have before some dude jumps through the window and Until Dawn plays out before you.
I mean it wasn’t that scary, but like Sherlock has taught me that phone calls from unknown callers generally results in an encounter with either Mycroft (which wouldn’t be so bad) or Moriarty (which would be so bad).
So really Steven Moffatt made this much worse than it needed to be.
Anyway, let’s talk about the book. Um – I should probably just…
There we go. You’ve been warned.
TBH, didn’t see Dixon coming.
It was one of those it’s-the-least-suspicious-person-because-they’re-the-least-suspicious-person situations, and you’d think that after watching SO MUCH Agatha Christie that I’d be aware of this but nope.
I thought it was the maths teacher for about ten seconds (because if you want anyone to turn out to be a criminal, you want it to be the maths teacher. Obviously. [No offence to any of the maths teachers reading this, who I’m sure are exceptions to the rule and are lovely wonderful people.]) but the inclusion of that sub plot felt a bit jarring and weird, and if sub plots feel jarring and weird, it’s usually because they’re later draft red herring editions.
Because I’m such an expert on later draft red herring editions 😛
Cat memes. Aww man. Where were we?
I liked the characters. I liked that the MC was a maths dude, because every single MC in every single book in the history of ever is a really great English student who spends their time in a pile of books. This is common and excusable for two reasons. The author is a) writing about themselves, a really great English student who spends their time in a pile of books, or the author is b) writing for their audience, really great English students who spend their time in piles of books. So it was nice to see something new (although the quadratic formula that made an appearance was slightly traumatic).
Anyway, the end. Tune in next time for mum’s rant about how much swearing (an unrealistically small amount) there was in this book. That should be fun.
I’m not going to give this book a star rating because I don’t believe in quantifying creativity. Sorry. Apples and oranges.
Read this book if you’re into stuff that’s a bit like Steven King meets Emily Rodda. Read The Whole Business With Kiffo and The Pitbull if it’s midnight and you want to sleep.