I’m genuinely frustrated that I spent £15 on this hardcover, lured in by its beautiful pink sprayed edges, only to be met with such profound disappointment. This experience serves as a stark reminder to resist succumbing to book hype, especially for titles like this one. My craving for a compelling anti-hero narrative led me to this book, bypassing even the Sweetpea series, all thanks to its captivating cover and the buzz it generated.
From the outset, “How To Kill Your Family” declares its hand in the prologue: Grace Bernard confesses to eliminating six family members and evading justice, yet she narrates from prison, incarcerated for a murder she insists she did not commit. This revelation immediately deflates any potential suspense. We know we are in for a tale of seven deaths, six at her hand and one wrongful accusation. What unfolds is a diary-style chronicle of these killings, but far from linear, the narrative jumps between murders and present-day prison life, interspersed with flashbacks into Grace’s past. This fragmented approach is Grace’s attempt to weave her life story with the murders.
This unconventional structure proved incredibly cumbersome. The pacing was glacial, the narrative disjointed, and overwhelmingly reliant on exposition. While the diary format can be effective in skilled hands, its execution here felt clumsy. The constant telling, devoid of showing, creates a significant emotional distance. Readers are passively informed rather than actively engaged, resulting in a dull and uninspired reading experience.
Grace, the protagonist, is clearly designed to be unlikeable, a cold and calculating figure. This much is evident, but it also means any chance of reader investment in her character evaporates. Furthermore, successful revenge narratives often hinge on a degree of reader sympathy for the protagonist, despite their morally questionable actions. We are meant to root for them. This crucial element is missing with Grace. She comes across as unlikeable, spoiled, contradictory, self-absorbed, and utterly cruel. Her disdain is widespread: she despises overweight individuals, Instagram influencers, the wealthy, men, and a significant portion of women for the most trivial reasons. Her misanthropy extends to dismissing influencers as fabricating mental illnesses for attention and invalidating her half-sister’s pansexuality based on past dating history. Her interest in her friend Jimmy only surfaces when he is unattainable. Despite being raised in a prosperous foster family with abundant opportunities, she harbors a deep hatred for the rich. In essence, Grace is thoroughly detestable, offering no redeeming qualities for the reader to latch onto.
Beyond the deeply flawed protagonist, the plot itself is riddled with weaknesses. The murders Grace commits are often executed with glaring oversights and implausible scenarios. Those critical of the book’s ending seem to overlook Grace’s consistent lack of foresight throughout. The narrative is punctuated by moments that are not only unbelievable but also jarringly uncomfortable. One particular chapter stands out for its sheer unpleasantness, making for a deeply unsettling reading experience. Moreover, Grace’s purported motivation for her actions feels flimsy and unconvincing, hardly justifying the extreme measures she takes.
In summary, my negative impressions of this book extend beyond these points, though this review might lack the polished organization I usually aim for due to the extent of my disappointment. “How to Kill Your Family” earns a one-star rating from me. The detestable main character, weak plot, sluggish pacing, and an over-reliance on telling rather than showing, all compounded by a poorly executed diary format and a scarcity of dialogue, culminate in a book that was definitively not to my taste.
