“Bodies are just the worst, cruelest things. They make promises, and they lie.” —Mary, page 17

i did like this. i did! loved the cultish energy of the desert town, the sinister undervoice, the biting prose. it’s entertaining, gory, and, funnily enough, is better about shedding light on menopause than any medical professional, ha-fucking-ha! 

that being said: the pacing felt . . . off. the chapters are short but everything felt dragged out to a degree that was both over-and-underwhelming. for a book whose description already says that she experiences “echoes of an infamous serial killer” and then suddenly “the killings begin again,” the path to that self-discovery for her was long-winded. even near the end, it wasn’t one of those punchy gotcha! endings. just when i felt like the story should end, there seemed to be even more to be told. 

anyway, regardless: i did enjoy this. if you have the time and like middle-aged women, blood and guts, and, frankly, a bit of a quirky narrator, you should read this.