Ah, Our House, how do I not love thee, let me count the ways.

1. Your main characters go beyond unlikable. They set a new gold standard in unlikability. Stupid, self-centred, blind, fixated on trivia ... and droning on and on and on about how much their stupid suburban London house is worth. I don't mind unlikable, but this commits a far worse sin -- they are very, very boring. It's like being stuck at the worst dinner party in Hell for all eternity, except your place card has put you next to the deceased hedgefund trader whose speciality was defrauding widows and orphans, and polishing his Merc, rather than an interesting monster like the Marquis de Sade. Or Ted Bundy. Or Ayn Rand.

2. Here's a tip: a "plot twist" is not a "plot twist" when you can see it coming at least 50 pages in advance. Having decided to cut my losses at page 195 (2 plot twists that were so obvious that I assumed they were double bluffs. SPOILER No, they aren't.) I decided to skip to the end and see if I was missing something great and ... yep, another big "plot twist" that I had seen coming about 200 pages earlier. (I gather that there is yet ANOTHER "twist" that Ms Candlish attempts to sneak past us, simply by changing the name of a key character. Sweet.)

3. Podcasts. My new bottom line is never to read anything that is put in the form of a podcast.

This is over-padded, boring and just plain not worth your time.

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I only selected this book because a post on one of my FB groups suggested Louise Candish as an author who writes psycho-thrillers. Well, this was a psycho dud.

It was boring, the characters were boring, the format was annoying (wife writes in podcast form and husband in document form) the story predictable. Altho the ending was a bit of a surprise, even that was flawed when wife brought neighbor into the plot.

Sad to say, doubt I'll try any of Candish's other books.

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