Sometimes I Lie by Alice Feeney

You know, there's a common theme with modern thrillers that almost never ends well because it's been done to death. I am so sick of suspecting the main character or it turning out to have been the main character all along. You might ask then why I'd pick up a book so obviously intended to invoke the 'unreliable narrator' trope-good question. I do actually really enjoy the trope when it's done well. Unfortunately I'm not sure this is a shining example of that.

Sometimes I Lie actually starts off a lot better than I thought it would. Nothing special perhaps but the premise is intriguing enough and it fares better than most thrillers I've read lately. It starts off alternating chapters between present day and before the main character's accident and that's fine, but then flashbacks to her childhood diary also make an appearance and the whole thing gets a bit...crowded. I got fed up pretty quickly due to this but it actually turns out there is a very good reason for their inclusion and so I am more willing to accept them in hindsight.

The best word to describe this book is 'messy'. It has one genuinely good twist which surprised me and was kind of cool, but then it quickly descends into not making much sense. Then it tries to throw in more twists and there is far too much going on at the end which is unconnected to the main story or is too hard to follow. It's not complicated by any means, it's just not interesting enough to get me to focus enough to understand the poorly written reveals. The ending wasn't satisfying and I couldn't help but stop caring at that point. Also, as often happens with these books, the husband might as well have not existed. He had about as much personality as a sheet of paper and had even less influence on the plot.

Overall, this is one thriller that has some interesting potential but manages to ruin it in its attempts to be clever. Not a bad read by any means but hardly a standout in its genre.

Overall Rating:

.5