Okay, so there aren’t actually 7 1/2. It’s just a joke.
Like, The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle? Get it? Anyway…
I need you to believe me when I tell you this: I do not like writing a negative book review, because I know how hard authors work. Really, it doesn’t make me feel good in any way, shape, or form.
But you know what makes me feel even worse? A perfectly good murder mystery that suddenly becomes a story about forgiving a terrorist just because she kisses you on the cheek and holds your hand out of fear and keeping herself safe.
Seriously. I’m not even joking one bit.
A terrorist. Gets a redemption arc. With the help of one of her dead victims’ siblings.
This is one of those instances where the ending is so terrible, it’s hard to put the rest of the story into a reasonable perspective.
The thing is, when I started the book, it was so exciting, and unique, and creepy as heck. I absolutely loved everything about it. The characters were interesting, each one vastly different from the others. I adored the main character, but that flew out the window by the end.
I wish I could say that I look back on the rest of the book with such fondness that I don’t mind the crappy ending, to put it lightly.
But Evelyn Hardcastle isn’t a case of an author not knowing quite where to go with the story, so they accidentally bore me to death. Nor is it slightly disappointing for its rushed nature, like some books I’ve read *cough* Dune *cough*. If either of those were the problem, I would forgive it. I gave the latter 4 1/2 stars, didn’t I?
Instead, the book suddenly lapses into a disturbing few chapters in which the aforementioned sibling finds out their sister was murdered by the terrorist, is wildly upset to the point of tears (as one should be), then immediately trying to ensure the safety of the terrorist because they are a changed person.
You know what I have to say to that? Bullshit.
How dare they betray their family, or any one of the terrorist’s numerous victims, like that? It was really gross to read that reaction from the sibling, whom I had liked throughout the other 375 or so pages.
Then, there’s the end (which I’m only going to partially spoil by telling you what makes me so mad, not the actual mystery or anything).
Ugh, the end.
Such an ugly end.
Truly, an ugly ass end.
The terrorist and the sibling both get a happy ending to their story. And all I have to say is:
I beg your pardon?
I hope they both live miserable lives.
So, there’s my review of The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, bitterness and all.
If you do choose to read it, good luck to you.
If you don’t, I completely understand your choice. If I could erase it from my mind, I would.
Again, let me reiterate that I hate giving out crappy reviews. I get such an icky feeling inside, but I promised this review so it had to be done.