Lilibet Bombshell's Reviews > You'd Look Better as a Ghost

I love comic thrillers. In accordance with family tradition, about 30% of my sense of humor is set aside specifically for dark and morbid humor. When an invite to read this book came along you can bet I accepted it right away. Come on, look at that cover! The title! Like I had a chance. I knew I was going to enjoy it, but enjoy it I did.

You’d Look Better as a Ghost walks down the middle of road somewhere between two of my favorite comic thrillers: Sascha Rothschild’s Blood Sugar and Katy Brent’s How to Kill Men and Get Away With It. Wallace’s writing is more irreverent and sly than Rothschild, but has more of a sense of self and less sociocultural satire than Brent. Wallace likes her humor drier than bones in a desert and dark as a cave, her inner narratives extensive and hyper-critical, her plotting full of little unexpected twists and turns, and her protagonist (Claire) is a delightful serial killer to read as she tries to play catch up with a tiny mistake, understand the process of grieving, and play the unexpected role of vigilante (even if it’s only a means to an end, really).

On a personal note: Even though I’m not a serial killer, I appreciated reading a book with a protagonist who doesn’t grieve in the manner which people are accustomed to, because I don’t and I never have. I don’t go to funerals or memorial services anymore because of the looks I get at my lack of grief when people pass away. Nothing happened to me or anything–I have Alexithymia, and the way in which it presents itself is that my sadness meter isn’t there most of the time. I’m either mildly sad or I’m having a complete depressive breakdown. There’s no in between. It’s either shallows or an abyss. I’ve been like this my entire life. It’s led to everything from me being called a sociopath or narcissistic to being accused of not loving those who have passed away or not missing them.

The protagonist in this book, Claire, is grieving her father. She’s just grieving him in her own way. The only way a person like her can. Just because she’s not crying her eyes out or drinking her nights away doesn’t mean she’s not grieving. Everyone grieves differently. Sure, she chooses to take out her grief with a hammer at first, but no one can accuse of her of not caring for her father in her own way.

I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you.

File Under: Dark Comedy/Murder Thriller/Psychological Fiction/Serial Killer/Suspense Thriller