Leo Benedictus

“Who am I? The word that many would apply to me would be stalker, but applying doesn’t make it so. I’d say instead that I practise people studies.”

Unfortunately, I just could not gel with this book. At only 225 pages it was very short yet still took just over 2 weeks to read. As a stalker book, this had the elements of ‘You’, but did not live up to the expectation. The characters were not engaging, there was no tension or back-story, and the ending was just that, a random abrupt stop without any outcome.

Whilst seeing into the mind of this unnamed misogynist stalker was interesting, I just could not find him believable. What should have been a thrilling ‘Dexter’ style murder was more of a gloss-over with the dismemberment being far too easy. Whilst I haven’t killed and disposed of anyone, I imagine it would be a tricky task to undertake, especially on the first try.

Finally, the writing style was annoying. The popular back-and-forth element did not work on this occasion, most likely as there was a lack of quotation marks making it difficult to know who was ‘talking’. The book was written as a type of diary by the stalker, yet comments and observations were made where he would not have been privy to that information. I’m confused as to whether this was all just his imaginings and how much of it was accurate? Either way I won’t be losing sleep trying to figure this out.… (mere)

Read Me by Leo Benedictus is a so-so novel of suspense featuring a creepy stalker.

An unnamed narrator receives an inherited fortune and decides to now use his time refining his hobby: stalking random people. He keeps notes and records of his subjects and, at first, switched to different subjects after a short period of time. His rule was to never become personally involved, until he met Frances. Frances is a beautiful young woman working for a consulting firm. Soon it becomes clear that our stalker is disrupting and manipulating events in her life, causing her harm and psychological distress. He is also dealing out punishment on Frances's behalf to those he believe deserve it.

The opening scene in the novel will clue you in that something is off with the narrator. He is a nobody and there is no real sense of a personality except evidence will hint to the fact that all is not right with him. His account of what he does is presented in a bland, matter-of-fact way, and he seems alternately awkward and insipid. However, normal people don't stalk others, become obsessed and monitor their subjects, keep notes on them, or set up cameras and microphones to spy on them. There is no true clue why the stalker chose Frances either.

Right at the start the long-winded discourses and philosophical digressions are monotonous and slow the novel down. I felt like I was slogging through this novel trying to get through it, especially in the first third, when I expect an author to hook me into the premise of the story. While the premise seems promising from the description, the switch between first, second, and highly subjective third person point-of-views makes the narrative feel muddled. (Adding to this encumbrance is the use of the past, present, and future tense.) For me the novel fell flat.

Disclosure: My review copy was courtesy of Grand Central Publishing via Netgalley.
http://www.shetreadssoftly.com/2018/08/read-me.html… (mere)

Now here's a cute idea: The Afterparty's chapters are bookended by emails from the author as he attempts to get published; he suggests inviting readers to pitch characters to be written in to the paperback edition and lo, once you finish the book there's an invitation to do exactly that. Sadly I missed the deadline, but then the book already reads like wish-fulfillment (Benedictus, a journalist, has his main character, a sub-editor, suddenly become a huge film star's confidante). The story itself is entertaining, flitting between the sub, the actor, his druggy wife and an X Factor reject - it would translate perfectly to film - but the pomo literary criticism of the author in the aforementioned emails were annoying and broke up the flow of an otherwise fun tale.… (mere)