What can I say: I’m a reader, I contain multitudes.
Wit and psychological perspicacity win me over every time and when Rob says of his partner, Cassie Maddox (another play on truth in her name clever, I thought), “I stopped falling in love with her and started to like her immensely,” despite this paradox, French had me. But after sticking with it out of sheer stubbornness and curiosity, the plot fell into place and French nabbed my undivided attention (despite this being the final week of classes and grading piling up like snow in a Canadian storm). Add a paradoxical “warning” to the reader and I will always take it as bad faith. And I lie.” I’m no fan of the declarative sentence and a first-person narrative is rife with them. I can’t stand the paradoxical voice saying to me, “What I am telling you, before you begin my story, is this - two things: I crave truth. Her first-person narrator, Detective Rob Ryan (aka “Adam”) turned me right off with his impenetrable narration.
When I started In the Woods, I didn’t think I’d like it and I didn’t think I’d finish it. (Note: I took the accompanying picture of the morning sky on Dec.
I was in thrall to French’s writing (rare in mystery, rarer in romance), which was horrific, funny, and penetrating all at once, at her broken, flawed, knowable and unknowable detectives, and her daring in solving one crime and leaving another hanging. Which can be comforting (romance serves this purpose well), or boring as heck. When you’ve been reading as long as I have, well, not much does. It was my first, and will not be my last French, because it surprised me. Three sleepless nights and I finally turned the last page of Tana French’s In the Woods.
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