You, Caroline Kepnes

Damn you, Caroline Kepnes. I really wanted to give this one 4 stars. It was probably closer to 4.5 for the first 30% or so - I loved it. I loved what a twenty-first century take it was on stalking, I was horribly compelled by Joe's voice, and Kepnes's writing is just fantastic. I crashed through this when I was supposed to be doing my university work like an addict. I was amazed by her skill at pulling off an absolute boat load of pop culture references while seeming true to her character's voice and actually adding something to the book, rather than seeming dated and uncomfortable. The dialogue was dead on and I loved the whole satirical edge on "twenty-somethings today" without seeming obnoxious or patronising. My only complaint at this stage of the novel was that I was personally uncomfortable by some of the black humour. That doesn't mean it wasn't skilful - I just have quite low tolerance for mean spirited black humour. Nevertheless, I found this incredibly promising and well-written -- until I realized that I wasn't actually all that keen on the way the plot developed, particularly from around 60% onwards. Firstly, Joe's luck was staggering. There are six incidents (four of them major) that I can think of where he gets away with his actions not out of ingenuity but sheer blind luck. I really feel guilty for picking holes like this because it's so well-written, damn it, that when I was reading, I sort of went along with it for most of the novel until the final act pushed me over the brink. All writers need to do this to some extent, of course, but looking back on the novel, it seems like the entire plot was comprised of Joe getting into scrapes from following Beck around, and then just happening to wiggle out of them by random coincidence. I didn't mind the fact that he fooled the police in Rhode Island, or I would have minded a lot less, if it hadn't been preceded by Benji's convenient problems, (view spoiler) I could have forgiven all of this, though, because a similar accusation has been levelled at one of my favourite contemporary novels, Gone Girl. Gone Girl sailed by on its unlikelihood because the character work was so fantastic that I hardly noticed, and, though it did not always explain things in the most plausible way, there was a decided effort by Flynn at tying it together. (Although, on another note, this book is really nothing like Gone Girl and I wish everyone would stop comparing every goddamn psychological thriller since 2012 to Gone Girl.) It seemed like Kepnes had her events in place and her ending decided, but couldn't tie the two together, so sort of slopped them together a bit unconvincingly and crosed her fingers. Good (and frequently great) writing papers over the cracks but can't totally hide the implausibilities and holes. Onto the character work. Joe is an incredibly compelling villain protagonist. He really is monstrous, but Kepnes balances it perfectly; he's not too moustache-twirling but I never felt like she was buying into Joe's myths of himself. I was initially impressed with the characterisation of (Guinevere) Beck, Joe's paramour of the moment, an aspiring writer who is also a self-centred flake, likes to be worshipped and may or may not be a bit of a stalker herself. At first, Beck is a woman with the messy parts left in, the ugly parts, and I really respected Kepnes's characterisation of her (and it might sound pathetic, but an attractive woman who masturbates? An acknowledgement that that is actually an acceptable thing?) But, as we started to get a better sense of Beck-the-person, not just Beck-the-Joe-construct, I began to feel wary. Beck, from her first appearance, is all about sex. She wears a jumper without a bra. She exposes her underwear. She flirts with everything, everyone, she goes on Craigslist for daddy-issue sex, even her best friend is a predatory lesbian who gets off to pictures of her. At first, I assumed that this was Joe's stalker-gaze, distorting Beck-the-person but, particularly in the last quarter, we learn some things about Beck that affirm this view of her. She writes sex-crazed stories and, in a final revelation, she is essentially exposed as a slut. I disapprove of that word. I would never use that word in normal conversation, I don't believe in that, but with the revelations that Beck has (view spoiler), it feels like that's the word Kepnes is trying to prompt, to put in my head. I know that Kepnes is a woman herself and I did really like her portrayals of Karen and Beck, and her portrayal of the believable friendship between Beck and her friends, and I at first admired her portrayal of a woman who is not the male fantasy of womanhood, but then, the more we saw of Beck, the more I became suspicious of the fact that she seems like another kind of female stereotype, not the manic pixie dream girl but the narcissistic, manipulative, cheating whore. This, again, would've been fine if Beck had her own voice. When Joe read her psychiatrist's notes, I believed that we might be about to see a Gone Girlish (yes, that book again) twist on the horizon, where, suddenly, Beck gets her own voice and - surprise! - she's just as bad as Joe but not in the pathetic, crawly way that she is, wheedling and seducing and sweet-talking. Or maybe she isn't. Even if she hated Joe, or she really was a manipulative nymphomaniac, or she had to ultimately lose to him, I wanted to see her at least try and match him as his obsession got out of control. I wanted to see her try. I wanted Beck to affirm herself outside of the identity that Joe had made for her, her friends (and the odious Peach) had made for her, Benji had made for her, even her web presence had made for her. But it never came. I'm almost sure that, even though Joe's insidious voice will be stuck with me for a long time, I won't be able to remember very much about Guinevere Beck at all, except that Joe thought he loved her. I also am slightly side-eyeing all you people who are like, "Kepnes made us root for Joe, showing us that it's not stalker=bad, stalked=good!" I mean, what? Yes, Joe is a fascinating character. He's great to read about. I admit that I hated Peach more, because who couldn't hate such a pretentious, arrogant, and controlling person? (And her name is Peach.) Beck might've been hugely flawed (I'll admit that I accidentally spoiled myself for the "revelation" regarding her family so I have a softer view of that than I might've had if I hadn't seen it coming) but Joe is a serial stalker and murderer. There is a line. This is the line. I feel uncomfortable about the readers who "rooted" for Joe because I'm concerned that somebody could buy into this, "I'm only harassing you because I love you and I want to protect you but I also want you to have sex with me as I wish and wear what I like and do what I want at all times, while I am reading your e-mails, hacking your texts and plotting to do away with those who 'mistreat' you (and get in the way of you doing what I want and living out my fantasy of us being together). But, ultimately, and this is the unforgivable sin (I really am starting to sound a bit like Joe himself), it becomes a little stale, and, worst of all, predictable. Beck finds out and things unravel, more or less, how they might be expected to. I particularly hated the fact that her way of trying to get through to Joe is to seduce him again. Beck can be as bad and as ugly inside as Kepnes wanted - I'm not taking my issue with that - I'm taking my issue with the fact that, ultimately, she's boring and tropey by comparison. The opportunities to develop her aren't taken and, when in a crisis, she always does the most predictable and shallow thing. As such, she remains a weak sauce to Joe's main course, and I felt like this bought into some uncomfortable things about the portrayal of violence - physical or emotional - against women in fiction. Don't look at the woman. She's not important. She reacts how women do, she does the things women do, and, ultimately, she can't compete. Look at the man. Look at him. I will, however, Caroline Kepnes, read whatever you write next, because that's how much I love your writing. Even though you sometimes let me down, you deserve me. I know this about you, and I'm only telling you this for your own good. You'll thank me eventually.