There is a lot of missing humor in the book. Once it was clear she doesn’t have any of the skill sets needed for these advanced vocations or even the emotional vocabulary for an intimate life, I thought he was setting up a comic romp. The serial sequence of her being a wrecking ball, sabotaging life after life would have been hilarious. You are complaining about this life? Look at the destruction you are leaving behind. I was also expecting the killer chapter, where she sits down to dinner with her young family and after several double takes and pregnant pauses . . . everyone puts down the knives and forks and stares at her. Okay, who are you? You obviously have no clue what we are talking about. What have you done with my wife? Yeah, you’re not my mommy! You’re a body snatcher! Not to be.
The rock star chapter is illustrative of how completely passive the writing was. She jumps into the superstar life after the concert and only has the encore to sing; what if she had been drop kicked into that life stepping out of a private jet the morning of, then finding out she had to fake the entire concert later that night . . . now that would have been dramatic. Also returning afterwards to her hotel and the penthouse suite and discovering a boyfriend (her famous movie star/philosopher boyfriend) was lounging on her bed waiting for her, now that would have been much more compelling. Instead, we get an uninteresting phone call after their fling and he is just calling her to check-up on how she is coping with their break-up. Weak.
The intrigue was almost nonexistent. Essentially, this is a woman who goes to work, is fired, goes home, has a bottle of wine, mixes in a handful of pills, then passes out for what . . . 87 seconds? Then waking up . . . Oh good grief! Did I just swallow a handful of pills? I better call 911 . . . she drops her phone and loses it and has to stumble next door dramatically (the author doesn’t even do this right, she should have passed out the lawn or on his porch steps . . . with the realization she was totally screwed) then she wakes up in the hospital, the neighbor having miraculously discovered her just in time. The revelation she wants to live doesn’t come from all those jumps, but the overdose scare.
The Midnight Library —★ 1/2
The rock star chapter is illustrative of how completely passive the writing was. She jumps into the superstar life after the concert and only has the encore to sing; what if she had been drop kicked into that life stepping out of a private jet the morning of, then finding out she had to fake the entire concert later that night . . . now that would have been dramatic. Also returning afterwards to her hotel and the penthouse suite and discovering a boyfriend (her famous movie star/philosopher boyfriend) was lounging on her bed waiting for her, now that would have been much more compelling. Instead, we get an uninteresting phone call after their fling and he is just calling her to check-up on how she is coping with their break-up. Weak.
The intrigue was almost nonexistent. Essentially, this is a woman who goes to work, is fired, goes home, has a bottle of wine, mixes in a handful of pills, then passes out for what . . . 87 seconds? Then waking up . . . Oh good grief! Did I just swallow a handful of pills? I better call 911 . . . she drops her phone and loses it and has to stumble next door dramatically (the author doesn’t even do this right, she should have passed out the lawn or on his porch steps . . . with the realization she was totally screwed) then she wakes up in the hospital, the neighbor having miraculously discovered her just in time. The revelation she wants to live doesn’t come from all those jumps, but the overdose scare.
The Midnight Library —★ 1/2