Actually, I’m A Murderer: A Cozy Mystery with Dark Undertones
Ah, the allure of a gripping mystery! When I stumbled upon Actually, I’m A Murderer, I was immediately intrigued by the premise: four strangers sharing a railway compartment in the 1970s, one of whom casually claims to be a murderer. As someone who appreciates a good whodunit, the scenario had me envisioning a thrilling ride through twists and turns. To my surprise, this book comes from the mind of Terry Deary, the beloved author known for the Horrible Histories series. Little did I know when I began reading that my expectations would play a memorable role in shaping my experience.
The novel houses a well-crafted atmosphere, evoking the charm of the ’70s while injecting an undercurrent of tension. Claire is an ambitious woman trying to conquer the world of electronics, Tony—our actor—struggles with the limelight, Edward embodies the authority of a top lawyer, and John, well, he throws everyone off balance with his chilling admission. I’m a fan of multiple perspectives, and the first-person narratives of Tony, Aline, and John enrich the story, providing layers of complexity; however, the idea that one of them is a murderer does raise some questions about reliability.
The characters themselves are a mixed bag. There’s an undeniable realistic edge to their flaws, which makes you feel somewhat uneasy. Even with their unique quirks, I found it tough to root for any of them. Instead, the narrative bounced between curiosity and frustration—especially pondering why supposedly brilliant individuals often make dreadful judgments. This sense of confusion trails Mr. Brown as he stumbles through his own clues, seeming more like a novice than an “expert.”
Now, the pacing had its ups and downs. The first quarter dragged a bit, taking its time to gather momentum when it ideally should have pulled me in. Thankfully, things picked up, but I wouldn’t describe this as a riveting page-turner. The foreshadowing, at times, felt like it spoiled the potential suspense. It was almost ironic how some twists were glaringly obvious—like the repeated mention of "my lover"—which dampened the impact of what could have been shocking revelations.
Despite the hiccups, I appreciated the blend of dark themes and occasional levity, awkward though the characters may be. It’s a world where you can’t help but feel that someone’s about to get bumped off, and that keeps the reader engaged. The writing style reflects Deary’s playful undertones, though sometimes that playfulness feels at odds with the gravity of the themes presented.
In summation, Actually, I’m A Murderer is a cozy mystery that dances between intrigue and irritation, combining serious undertones with moments of levity but ultimately lacking likable characters. I find it hard to pinpoint who might truly enjoy this book—it straddles a line that’s hard to define. Perhaps it’s a solid choice for those who appreciate a twisty plot and don’t mind characters that are less than endearing.
As I closed the book, I reflected on the experience—an interesting ride, certainly, albeit not the exhilarating journey I was hoping for. It left me pondering the complexities of human behavior, which is, in many ways, the true puzzle within these pages. Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown Book Group UK for the opportunity to read this eARC; my thoughts are entirely my own.
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