And then an overconfident bit of trickery at work is followed by a brutal attack in his own home, and the old Toby is gone for ever, replaced by a nervy, jittery wreck with a limp and a slur who gets lost in the middle of sentences.Īs well as the fear and the “roiling fury”, he’s left with “a depth and breadth of loss that I had never imagined”. Worrying has always seemed “like a laughable waste of time and energy” after all, he’s never had anything to worry about. He bagged his first job doing PR for an art gallery – fortunately, the boss “had taken a chance on grass-green me when the other woman at the final interview had had years of experience”. Twentysomething Toby has led a charmed life: popular at school rich, supportive parents sweet, adoring girlfriend. For her seventh book, she has created something rather different: a pin-sharp portrait of privilege, recounted not by a world-weary, wisecracking detective but by a crime victim who is also a suspect. As so often in crime novels, they tended to be outsiders in some way, or struggling with their own past trauma. O ver the last 12 years Tana French has become known for blisteringly good crime thrillers narrated by various cops in the fictional Dublin Murder Squad.
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