Greenwich Park
Author:
Genres: Literature & Fiction, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense
Book Type: Hardcover
Author:
Genres: Literature & Fiction, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense
Book Type: Hardcover
Twisty psychological thriller that, for once, has some good psychology.
This isn't perfect, but in spite of its slightly over-inflated length, and overly slow burn style, it was a real page turner. Some of the "Big Reveals" I saw coming from a mile off -- but, there again, there's a certain smug satisfaction from being provided right, especially when the overall effect is of the plot-cogs falling nicely into place, at the end, and there are a few unexpected twists.
This is the latest in a number of novels I've read (or started, and kicked to the curb) featuring obnoxious, entitled Oxbridge graduates, whose obnoxiousness and entitledness puts them in harm's way, and I was a bit worried that this was going to be Oh no, not again ... poor little rich people. But thankfully, Faulkner doesn't seem to be deluded enough to think that we should be charmed by any one of the central clique of four who struggle heroically with their prosecco lifestyles, worries about their multi-million-pound Greenwich Park homes, and the stresses of curating their Instagram posts, while sneering at anyone from a lesser postcode. Even the least blameless of them, Helen, is a twit with Daddy issues who isn't quite so blameless after all. I liked the way that Faulkner signalled the irredeemable naffness of the central four, while still leaving the possibility open that any one (or all) of them might be a little more sinned against than sinning.
The other thing I like was the way it built the plot on something that I recognized: the "Instant Friend." Someone you meet at a conference or workshop, whatever, someone with whom you make small-talk or have a coffee, and then suddenly someone who decides they are your Best Friend, and like velcro, you can't shake them off. Usually this ends with awkward farewells at an airport gate, or in a hotel car park, and you can breathe a sigh of relief and move on, but Faulkner takes it to its horrific conclusion -- what if you started bumping into this person everywhere, what if they started hijacking your social life? What if they moved in with you? What if there's more to it than someone who can't read social signals ...
It's a neat launching point for the twisty revelations that follow.
This isn't perfect, but in spite of its slightly over-inflated length, and overly slow burn style, it was a real page turner. Some of the "Big Reveals" I saw coming from a mile off -- but, there again, there's a certain smug satisfaction from being provided right, especially when the overall effect is of the plot-cogs falling nicely into place, at the end, and there are a few unexpected twists.
This is the latest in a number of novels I've read (or started, and kicked to the curb) featuring obnoxious, entitled Oxbridge graduates, whose obnoxiousness and entitledness puts them in harm's way, and I was a bit worried that this was going to be Oh no, not again ... poor little rich people. But thankfully, Faulkner doesn't seem to be deluded enough to think that we should be charmed by any one of the central clique of four who struggle heroically with their prosecco lifestyles, worries about their multi-million-pound Greenwich Park homes, and the stresses of curating their Instagram posts, while sneering at anyone from a lesser postcode. Even the least blameless of them, Helen, is a twit with Daddy issues who isn't quite so blameless after all. I liked the way that Faulkner signalled the irredeemable naffness of the central four, while still leaving the possibility open that any one (or all) of them might be a little more sinned against than sinning.
The other thing I like was the way it built the plot on something that I recognized: the "Instant Friend." Someone you meet at a conference or workshop, whatever, someone with whom you make small-talk or have a coffee, and then suddenly someone who decides they are your Best Friend, and like velcro, you can't shake them off. Usually this ends with awkward farewells at an airport gate, or in a hotel car park, and you can breathe a sigh of relief and move on, but Faulkner takes it to its horrific conclusion -- what if you started bumping into this person everywhere, what if they started hijacking your social life? What if they moved in with you? What if there's more to it than someone who can't read social signals ...
It's a neat launching point for the twisty revelations that follow.
