A review by laurenmitchell
The Death Artist by Jonathan Santlofer

1.0

When I picked this up I thought it would possibly be a bit trashy but entertaining. I was wrong. It was totally trashy and not entertaining.

The brand name dropping was reminiscent of someone trying to pretend they got what Bret Easton Ellis was doing with that in American Psycho. For a book that was clearly pushing the 'smoking is evil and gives you cancer' angle, maybe the author shouldn't have mentioned Marlboro like he was getting a blowjob for each mention.

I finally pitched this waste of paper into the recycling bin when I got to the part where the female main character muses on how she feeds her husband's secretary chocolate truffles to make sure she stays 'plus-sized', and hopes that said secretary stays in her role until after retirement age. Because of course if the secretary is fat and/or old, the husband won't fuck her. I can deal with thrillers being trashy and derivative but piling on the misogynistic body shaming was just too much.

I am rating this one star because unfortunately the rating system doesn't go into negative numbers. Beauty school dropout, go back to art college.