This novel was widely advertised as nothing short of sensational and took up very considerable floor- and shelfspace in most bookshops I visited during my stays in Britain this year. Because there was to be a film version coming out soon, I started reading as soon as possibly – bypassing several other novels bought earlier.
The novel is told by several 1st-person narrators, the principal being Rachel, a run-down woman who travels into town by train every day. Every day, the train stops at the same signal and offers her insights into the backyards of the houses along the track, incidentally the neighbourhood where she used to live before her divorce. One day there is a murder, and of course Rachel gets herself involved in the case.
This is a novel that indeed has you hooked quickly and thoroughly. It is also, in several ways, a really harsh story.
The characters are pitiable. Their lives are no easy ones, erading about three totally ruined lives can indeed be rather disconcerting.
Also, the language is harsh, brutal, and to the point. For 1st-person narrators this is not too convincing, but because you are desparate to learn what happens next, you don’t really care. Clearly, the art in this text lies in the construction of the plot, not in language.
Finally, you get the unpleasant feeling that what makes you want to read on is not suspense, but mere voyeurism.
Ms Hawkins has written a textbook-example of a thriller, and of course the ending is highly unexpected. I must admit that I read as fast as possible because I needed to know who the murderer isl. But now I know I do not really need to watch the movie – unless, maybe, it is a bitm ore poetic than the book?