REVIEW: "Let Her Lie" by Bryan Reardon
I went through a phase where I was incredibly obsessed with Mamma Mia*.
*Not the movie, it's just okay. I’m talking about the stage musical. Also, honestly, it’s probably inaccurate to call it a phase, as I am still pretty fucking obsessed.
Though I had always been a fan of theater, I latched on to this musical in particular for a number of reasons.
I found the music catchy.
I loved the characters.
And certainly, the platform shoes, spandex, and bell-bottoms didn't hurt.
But what really captured me was the overall premise. The idea of this girl, who'd never met her father, now searching for him on the veritable eve of her wedding. I felt personally connected to this plot, as I have never met my father. So, logically, any story with this underlying premise has always had a bit of a draw for me, whether the tale included bell-bottoms and platform shoes or not.
That said, though, I do have a hard time agreeing with a notion that is oft-repeated in stories like these. The idea that, if you don't know who your parent is, you don't really know who you are.
My reluctance to agree with this idea is probably largely personal. I feel like, despite only knowing one of the people responsible for my coming into existence, I have a pretty good handle on who I am.
I wonder, though, if things would be different if I didn’t feel like I was raised by the better half of the duo that made up my parents. Admittedly, my sentiments would almost certainly be different if there had been some trauma associated with my coming into existence
It is this type of world-upending drama that we see at the root of the existence of one of the central characters in the newest Bryan Reardon thriller, Let Her Lie.
Miracle Jones is aptly named because she truly is a miracle.
Abandoned by her mother only moments after birth and left in a dirty sink in an oceanside public restroom, Miracle shouldn't have survived the night, let alone the four days it took for her to be discovered. But live she did, and now she's an adult.
Though her own childhood was largely happy, Miracle is still haunted by the salaciousness of her origins.
And as if being abandoned wasn't sufficiently upsetting, she comes to learn that the woman who gave birth to her lost her life at the hands of the Halo Killer, a notorious murder responsible for a spate of deaths.
It is the Halo Killer, Jasper Ross-Johnson, who recently disgraced director, Theo Snyder, is intending to be the focus of his next documentary. But, as Theo digs for truths to reveal in this documentary, he finds himself drawn closer to Miracle as a result of her tangential connection to Ross-Johnson.
Even though truths prove harder to unearth than he would like, Theo is nothing if not persistent. After all, he needs this documentary to be a success.
Because this is his chance.
His chance to prove himself worthy.
His chance to get back into the public’s good graces following a very public scandal.
With so much riding on this effort, Theo is willing to risk everything, even his own life, to uncover the truth, no matter how dark that truth may be.
When I first dove into this novel, I was immediately engaged. This was due in no small part to the strength of Reardon’s writing. Somehow flowery yet, at the same time concise, the writing had a soothing, lulling quality that just made you just generally feel good as you read.
There were also some strengths pertaining to the overall premise.
First of all, serial killers are pretty much always very engaging — which is paradoxical, considering how horrifying the concept of repeated, ritualistic murder is. And, secondly, the choice of protagonist — a once-break-out documentary director trying to mount a comeback — allows readers to feel as if they were getting a glimpse into the creation of the next hyper-bingeable Netflix drama.
Unfortunately, as I read on, my enthusiasm for the novel waned.
As engaging as the plot was, as a whole the book just felt a little bit skeletal. It needed some meat on its bones. It felt like there was much left to be fleshed out.
Also troublesome, when elements of the mystery were fleshed out, the results weren’t satisfying. Ultimately, the plot proved very convoluted, which robbed readers of the satisfying, “Aha!” moments they were seeking.
Throughout the novel, things were constantly changing. Details you believed to be true, repeatedly proven false. And while this might sound exciting — might seem like it would keep you on the edge of your seat — what it really resulted in was a novel that lacked a foundation. Throughout my reading, it felt like there was no solid ground on which to rely. And as I moved through the novel — at an admittedly rapid pace — this lack of reliability started to wear on me.
Reading this — surprisingly short — novel really was a journey, though. Just when I had almost given up on trying to find any reason, the ending came. And, here, Reardon did a pretty exceptional job of piecing things together.
He elaborated, in the way that thriller authors so seldom do, on exactly what the point of this all was, highlighting the central message: that some things in life cannot be understood.
This central message resonated with me, because it’s true.
No matter how many episodes of Dateline I watch, I will never understand how some husbands kill their wives.
No matter how many online news stories I read, I will never understand why mass shootings take place.
And no matter how many musicals I sit through, I will never understand why some parent's bow out of their children's lives.
Even though understanding these things would be comforting — even though understanding them would give you the illusion of more solid footing on inarguably shaky ground — they simply are beyond reason and comprehension. The simple beauty and truth of this overarching message made up for much of what I perceived as weaknesses of this novel.
When all was said and done, this novel earned a solid 4 out of 5 cocktails.
I’m interested in reading more by this — new-to-me — author and curious as to whether the relatively explicit exploration of a central theme is common in his work.
Now that I’ve admitted my Mamma Mia attachment, I’m curious if you have any similar obsessions. What piece of pop-culture are you obsessed with? Tell me about it in the comments, below.
I’m on fire… all of my recent reads have been at least 3 cocktails. Let’s see what happens next. Subscribe to updates in the sidebar and follow me on Goodreads.
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*I was provided a gifted copy of this title by the publisher*
