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There are many books with the "Girl" in the title. Not all of them are as good a read as Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. Not all of them are going to come to life as a Hollywood movie.
I picked up The Girl Before because I quite enjoyed reading JP Delaney's previous book - Behind Closed Doors. I read that book on a flight from Abu Dhabi to Brisbane. That's a long flight. This book kept me good company and I quite enjoyed the twists and turns. So, I decided to pick up The Girl Before to read on a flight from London to Amman. And I did not enjoy it as much as I thought I might.
The story alternates between the perspectives of Emma (The Girl Before) and Jane (The Girl After) as they move into a high tech enabled but minimalist apartment at One Folgate Street. By the narration of the apartment, it sounds like there is literally no furtniture and everything everywhere is digital. And even more bizarre is that the rent is not-so-expensive for an apartment designed by a world famous architect and landlord - Edward Monkford. He also requires that his tenants follow some very strict rules. Both women tenants soon find themselves caught up in a love affair with Edward the landlord, but when Jane discovers that Emma died in the apartment before her, she can't help but investigate further.
This is the overarching plot and I found the logic (or lack of) quite unbearable at one stage. But, I made a concious decision at the start of the year to read through books even if I don't agree with everything the author says. Sometimes you can learn from other's stupidity.
Sometimes, it can be frustrating to read when characters are presented as super dumb in a novel. In this book, warning bells are going off left, right and centre, and the women are completely oblivious. Worst case scenario is that Edward is a murderer or psychopath. Best case scenario is that Edward is a really creepy weirdo. There is no scenario in which a woman can possibly feel safe with Edward around but yet they somehow fall in love with him. There is also no real compelling need for the women to stay in that apartment where they feel everything they do and say is being watched and heard.
I was hoping that the end would be a bit of a saving grace. Sadly, it was not. There are only a small finite list of suspects and there are probably just one or may-be-two characters you sort-of hate or sort-of care about.
This is probably the worst book I read in 2019. Or may be not, I think I found the fat shaming narrative in the Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle more cringeworthy than the stupidity of the two main women characters in this book.
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