Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of bestselling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish.
Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read. Page after page of bone-chilling admissions, including Verity's recollection of what really happened the day her daughter died.
Lowen decides to keep the manuscript hidden from Jeremy, knowing its contents would devastate the already grieving father. But as Lowen's feelings for Jeremy begin to intensify, she recognizes all the ways she could benefit if he were to read his wife's words. After all, no matter how devoted Jeremy is to his injured wife, a truth this horrifying would make it impossible for him to continue to love her.
ohmygodwhatthefuckdidIjustread
This book is not alright. In fact, it’s as far from alright as it could possibly be. And I mean that in the best way possible.
I read Verity in literally one sitting, which might not sound like that big of a deal considering it’s pretty short, but if you take into account that I have the attention span of a goldfish, I’d say it’s quite an accomplishment. From the rather abrupt and gruesome beginning to the very end of the very last page, I simply couldn’t stop turning the pages. There is something compelling about Hoover’s writing that keeps you reading even when seemingly nothing is happening—because you can just feel sinister things creeping in, biding their time, and you just know that you won’t be able to do anything else until you find out what the hell is happening?
I have to admit, I thought I had it all figured out at the beginning. The motives behind character’s actions, their goals, even how everything was going to end. And I prepared myself for yet another thriller that, while amazingly written, follows one of the already well-known schemes. But then things started to get really fucked up and twisted and creepy—and still, I definitely was not even half ready for everything that went down in the end. It changed everything I thought I knew and turned my mind upside-down—and yet at the same time it didn’t. I still don’t know what is the truth—or rather, whose truth I believe—but I can tell you it was one of the best and most mind-boggling finales I’ve read in a long while.
“We were Chronics. Prone to chronic tragedy. One terrible thing after another”
Even so, it was the characters that really won me over and made this book a true five star read. All of them are immensely complex, with somewhat of a psychotic streak that makes them stand out in a crowd, but at the same time makes them seem all the more real. I didn’t really expect I’d like them as much as I had, considering they started off as pretty generic character profiles which appear in approximately every third novel out there. That especially goes for Jeremy, whom I at the beginning thought to be the Hot Love Interest™, but ended up being probably the most intriguing one, and I don’t blame Lowen one bit for falling for him because honestly? I’d probably do the same xd
I liked how each of the characters played a role in adding to the overall eeriness of the story. I found it quite fascinating how even the most innocent-looking things can be made creepy if you look at them from the right angle—even a five-year-old kid and Verity’s nurse (arguably, both little kids and nurses can be more than a bit creepy, but you get what I’m saying). Hoover really manipulated the situation masterfully—while it undoubtedly was Verity who gave me the actual creeps (
The last thing I should probably point out before wrapping this review up is that Verity is an adult novel—and as such, contains some a bit... explicit scenes. I personally didn’t really mind that, but I felt like I should mention it here just in case I managed to convince anyone to read it—you have been warned now.
To cut the chase: I loved it. Verity is without a doubt one of the best thrillers I’ve ever read, and one that’d be immensely hard to top (although I do plan to check out Hoover’s other novels soon). It is probably going to destroy your life and leave you staring at the space, rethinking all of your truths and life choices which lead you to the moment when you chose to pick it up—but it’s damn worth it.
“A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed. An autobiography encouraging the reader to like the author is not a true autobiography. No one is likable from the inside out. One should only walk away from an autobiography with, at best, an uncomfortable distaste for its author.”
0 komentari