It’s a theatrical novel, it’s like taking part in a murder mystery dinner, where you know for sure that everyone plays a part but you can’t immediately understand who lies better or more. And who is actually not telling lies at all: he simply believes that that is the truth.
“Yes, it is. It’s, like, when someone has an affair, why does the wife always hate the other woman? Why doesn’t she hate her husband? He’s the one who’s betrayed her, he’s the one who swore to love her and keep her and whatever forever and ever. Why isn’t he the one who gets shoved off a fucking cliff?”
― Paula Hawkins, quote from Into the Water
I think this can be defined for me as the Summer of thrillers, which is definitely one of my favorite genres, but I usually leave them for the winter, wrapped in blankets and with a nice hot chocolate to comfort me. Instead, this time I was attracted by the beach, by the calm sea and the wind almost totally stationary to have a good feast of high emotional tension.
Isolating myself from the brave few who were under the sun below the 38…
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