On July 30, 2017, I blogged about how the practice of
adopting a female or gender-neutral nom de plume is prevalent in the
psychological thriller genre (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/2017/07/male-writers-using-gender-neutral.html). Apparently, there is market demand for psychological
thrillers written mostly by women for female audiences and featuring a female
narrator. Some fans might doubt the
authenticity of the female narrator’s voice when it is delivered by a male
author, so male writers are adopting gender ambiguous pseudonyms in order to
attract more female readers. Hence, Daniel
Mallory has become A. J. Finn, author of The
Woman in the Window. This marketing ploy strikes me as manipulative, so I
hesitated to read this book. I wish I
had resisted because it is very derivative and does not live up to its hype.
Anna Fox, 38, is a child psychologist who because of some
initially unidentified traumatic event has become an agoraphobic. She has not left her home for almost a year;
she spends her time drinking and spying on her neighbours. Virtually her only other activity is daily
chats with Ed, her husband from whom she is separated, and her 8-year-old
daughter Olivia who is with her father. One
day Anna witnesses the murder of a neighbour, but no one believes her since she
is definitely not a reliable witness. She
herself begins to doubt the veracity of her recollections. Did her mixture of potent prescription drugs
and alcohol, aided by her obsession with classic thriller movies, cause her to
hallucinate?
The plot is just so familiar. An unreliable narrator who believes she has
seen a crime being committed is dismissed because of her drinking and erratic
behaviour. This certainly sounds like The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins. Having recently read Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman, I found
several major parallels: Eleanor
Oliphant experienced an unidentified trauma which left her emotionally and
physically scarred and she has reacted by self-medicating with alcohol and socially
isolating herself, except from an absent family member with whom she regularly communicates
by telephone.
There are virtually no surprises. The clues to all mysteries are many and very
obvious. A reviewer in The Washington Post writes that the
story “ends with a series of mind-boggling surprises” and that the book is “a riveting thriller that will
keep you guessing to the very last sentence” (https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/books/next-years-gone-girl-perhaps-the-woman-in-the-window-lives-up-to-the-hype/2017/12/15/588b91ca-dec0-11e7-bbd0-9dfb2e37492a_story.html?utm_term=.42613aff4d44),
but that reviewer has obviously not read many books of the psychological
suspense genre. Any perceptive reader
will find the book very predictable.
The one positive element is the characterization of Anna. Her sleeping and drinking indicate that she
is severely depressed, and her thoughts and behaviour realistically portray those
of a depressed person. The problem,
however, is that there is much that is unrealistic. A psychiatrist visits her in her home and despite
all the evidence of Anna’s excessive drinking and impaired judgement,
prescribes increasingly potent medications?
The many allusions to black-and-white classic suspense films which
emphasize the parallels between the plots and Alma’s circumstances will appeal
to cinephiles but eventually just become annoying.
The book’s short chapters make for a fast read, but anyone
wanting an original, challenging sample of psychological suspense, should look elsewhere.
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