The digital version of this book was offered as an Advance Reader Copy (referred to as ARCs in the book publishing world). It involves a simple quid pro quo - be one of the first to read a pre-publication version of a book for free in return for timely and honest thoughts and feedback.
I couldn’t sign up fast enough. My bargain-hunting instincts loved the sound of ‘free’ and the opportunity to participate in a feedback loop with authors and editors* as a fledgling book blogger seemed too perfect to pass up. What I hadn't considered was that I might eventually encounter a book that I really didn't like. Normally, I'd cast the title off as a 'DNF' (Did Not Finish) and move onto the next one, but I wouldn't be able to do that as an ARC reader. To complicate things further, the courtesy of quick turnaround times would crash heads against my people-pleasing tendencies, and then I'd be forced to choose between meeting a deadline and telling someone I didn't like their work.
That very inner battle I'd been dreading came to a perfect point with The Woman in the Library.
The book opens with Hannah, who narrates most of the book. She is an aspiring Australian writer working on her next novel in the Boston Public Library and in the opening scene, she's in the reading room to do some surreptitious people watching, hoping her observations will inspire the creation of some of her story's characters. Her eyes eventually sweep toward Cain, a nearby author who turns out to be doing much of the same. They, along with two other nearby patrons in the reading room, are startled when a bloodcurdling breaks the room's studious silence.
These four strangers, bound by a shared mystery, conduct some impressive if amateur sleuthing to try and figure out what happened in the library. Through local news, the four realize, not with little horror, that they were witnesses to a murder. But when the work of local police forces seem to hit a strangling halt, the new friends decide to do some amateur sleuthing of their own. Before long, strange and increasingly sinister things start happening to each of them, as though someone was trying to get warn or get rid of them.
All the while, the writer in Hannah decides this is perfect fodder for storytelling. As she and her new friends try to get to the bottom of the murder, she spins all the events into newly spun chapters for her book. Each chapter of the book begins with a letter from her American writer penpal, Leo, who gives her regular feedback on the unwinding novel.
At prima fascia, there was a lot to like about this book. The first chapter opened with some thrilling action, in one of my favorite earthly locations no less. I loved that the two of the main characters were aspiring writers, which allowed the author unique opportunities to offer some interesting meta-commentary on the writing process, including gems such as these (spoken by Hannah, the narrator) -
I am a bricklayer without drawings, laying words in sentences, sentences into paragraphs, allowing my walls to twist and turn on whim. There is no framework, just bricks interlocked to support each other into a story.
Plus there was the whammy of a whodunnit that splashed out in the very first pages. Who was murdered and why? From there, the plot got a little messy for me. As the book unfolds, there are a perplexing flurry of red herrings thrown the readers' way. Her penpal Leo becomes increasingly creepy, a neighbor seems unnecessarily clingy, and each of her friends seem suspicious for one reason or another. I'm a big fan of suspense, but this dizzying carousel of suspects became quickly tiresome.
I know some other readers have made mention of the charming 'book within a book' theme, but it actually created serious trust issues for me as a reader. If I were in Hannah's scary shoes, witnessing people beat up in the streets and and picking up on creepster vibes around me all day, I seriously doubt I'd have the wherewithal to sit before a typewriter and spin tales about being a real life target. And then there were a slew of questionable decisions from there. Staying in place while creepy notes and anonymous 'gifts' showed up at her home address. Aiding and abetting someone with a criminal history that she just met. Falling in love with one of the primary suspects, against all seemingly obvious signs. I know it's all fiction. I know that there's the good-moral subtext that not everyone with a criminal history is truly criminal. I know that as a reader, I'm bound by an implicit agreement to suspend disbelief whenever the author deems necessary. But it all made me question Hannah's qualifications as the hero of this story and I found myself caring less and less about what happened to her.
Seeing as how she's the main protagonist, that made it pretty difficult to keep the pages turning.
As an ARC previewer, I knew I'd have to make it to the end if I wanted to give genuine feedback. But as a reader, I lost interest long before the midpoint. So as far as reviews go, I'm afraid the verdict is in.
Review: 🥄🥄 2 spoons
*Note: This my be one of my last ARC commitments, for two key reasons. One, I love reading at my own pace. Fast though it may be, the implicit pressures of a publisher waiting on feedback made reading feel more contractual than like a personal pleasure.
Secondly, I hate the format of book reviews. I gritted my teeth while writing some past 'Read With Me' entries because it felt like writing a grade school book report. Don't get me wrong. I love books - not just reading them, but also talking about them and writing about them - because they give me fresh eyes to view my own life and new perspectives on lives unlived. It's a large part of the reason why Page and Spoon was born. But listing characters, genres, and plot summaries? Blech. I'd much rather use stories to tell you all more stories.
Third, I far prefer reading physical books over digital copies. I bear forgivingly with my Kindle because it allows me to be a traveling bookworm without the bulk, but for me there is always, always something lost with a digital copy - appreciatively stroking a well-designed cover, curling my fingers around a new spine for a few hours, and flipping through pages to find my last place.
So I might be nearing an end with my short experiment with ARCs. It's not for me. But if any of you Page and Spoon readers are interested in giving it a go, Netgalley is the site I used. The copies are usually issued digitally, so I'd recommend ready access to some kind of eReader and/or comfort with extensive screen-based reading before applying.