As in much true crime, the reader discovers and filters information about the case almost simultaneously with Alec. Clark is also very clever with pastiche, and we get snippets of Alec’s transcripts and interviews, news stories from the time of the crime.
A work of show-stopping formal mastery and penetrating intelligence ... A bravura exercise in mimicry, pitch-perfect whether it’s ventriloquising journalism ... [A] formidable talent.
Packaged as a true crime potboiler ... By writing in the guise of a hack, which Clark does convincingly, readers miss the polished craft of her debut ... Her talent is still abundant here, but fully realizing Carelli and the teen's voices often necessitates — intentionally, it should be said — repetitive, unliterary prose. However, the compromise is worth it for Clark's trenchant observations, particularly in the novel's imaginative coda.
It may be a fictionalised true crime book, but the depictions of torture are no less corrosive for being made up. It adds to what it’s trying to critique ... So glutted with teenage-speak, obscure online neologisms, references to Taylor Swift and lip gloss that it’s hard to imagine it being enjoyed by anyone over 30. Clark’s ideal readership is precisely those susceptible 16-year-olds she writes so accurately about ... The juvenility of the book is also apparent in its simplistic approach to morality ... The form of the book, which splices blog posts, texts and googled information, captures the feeling of darting between multiple tabs on a computer. But it also means the book lacks shape. In her bid to emulate the online world, Clark is too indiscriminate.
This is one of a handful of recent books that highlights the pervasive nature of crime reporting and indeed consumption; it’s an extremely effective and exciting read.
Scabrous, cruelly funny and frequently stomach-churning ... Shot through with a satisfying jolt of Northern Gothic, the whole unevenly relayed through the contrivedly dispassionate medium of a reporter’s words ... Reading it gives the impression that anyone who endures adolescence will be lucky to escape alive.
A clever conceit ... Ultimately, though, Carelli is low-hanging fruit...his portrayal of Joan’s assailants...delivers a surprisingly bland, amorphous mini-tribe of whiny, passive-aggressive bullies.
A clever, intricate and metatextual novel ... Can be difficult to follow and the effect is disconcerting, which, you come to feel, is exactly what Clark wants.
An intelligently constructed, rapid lounger-by-the-pool piece of crime fiction ... People are drawn to that darkness in true crime, and Clark has simulated it well enough that readers will likely google fictional places on real maps. Importantly, nobody was harmed in the making of this book.
Great investigative nonfiction authors write novelistic prose, while Clark’s is clunky by comparison. The structure of her novel is similarly uninspiring, moving from one long interview to the next with little analysis. This book is not believable as a work of investigative nonfiction, which renders its conceit annoying rather than provocative. An ambitious sophomore attempt bites off more than it can chew.
