Working in a bookstore has certain benefits; free books, never-ending conversations about books and advance copies of about-to-be-published books!
I was drawn to Joanna Wallace’s You’d Look Better as a Ghost immediately when I read it being described as
“Dexter meets Killing Eve in this superb thriller, perfect for fans of How To Kill Your Family and My Sister, the Serial Killer.“
Two of my favourite TV shows of late and I absolutely relished My Sister, the Serial Killer! (And I’ve heard nothing but great things about How to Kill Your Family – which is now on my TBR pile…)
And what a riot!
You’d Look Better as a Ghost is a laugh-out-loud dark comedy of a sociopathic serial killer who kills those that annoy or displease her, dispensing her own sense of karma in each method of killing – gruesomely so.
The protagonist, Claire, attends a bereavement group after the passing of beloved father. It is her way of attempting to learn normalcy, as as a sociopath Claire has little to no real emotions and a distinct lack of ability to read emotions of others. But over the years she has learned to mask and blend in, largely due to having been cared and loved for by her father, despite Claire always having been just a little bit off.
One of the first kills described in the book begins with a mistaken identity. Claire, a budding artist, receives an email (while at her father’s funeral, mind you) to confirm she has been shortlisted for an emerging artist prize. After sharing her news and receiving praise from those in attendance at the funeral, Claire smiles – even though it “immediately feels weird [as] it’s been a while since [her] face has been troubled with a smile” (7). In reality, turns out, the email was meant for another Claire. Even though Lucas apologises for his mistake, Claire is unconvinced he actually is “terribly, terribly sorry” (14) and after having tried to outrun her frustration and intrusive thoughts, she goes to find him – just so she can ask if he really is terribly, terribly sorry. As things aspire, after seeing Lucas, Claire decides he is not. So, she seduces Lucas, takes him home, ties him up but instead of throwing herself in throes of passion she stabs him whilst he “wriggles like a worm” (21) under her.
Claire’s way of examining herself in the act of carving of flesh and the curiosity it births in her, as she taunts and teases Lucas is as bone chilling as it is visual. As Claire emotionlessly notes, as the knife enters Lucas’ belly, she realised it was, indeed, “possible to outrun thought” (21-22) and even though Lucas is crying, she doesn’t think it “will help his chances, and as soon as she starts talking, it is obvious – even he doesn’t find himself funny anymore” (22). But I did and I did laugh out loud, jolting a fellow bus passenger out of whatever thought they were trying to outrun.
This was just one of the four murders Claire commits during the novel’s timeline – with probably dozens more before and after. Methods vary from drowning, to shooting, to strangling and each method and murder are described equally enthused and vivid, entertaining the reader as for a moment Claire is almost human in her enjoyment of the act. Even when Wallace breathes a semblance of humanity into Claire as she makes a friend in the sister of one of women she had killed, there is no redeeming Claire. If she gets upset, feels jilted or sees an injustice she feels needs remedying, Claire’s murderous side is immediately awakened. And the reader is left reminded, as Wallace writes in her acknowledgments, “about the importance of looking for humour in the darkest of times” (328).
And at times, I did laugh out loud – one particular morning so loudly even that I jolted a fellow bus passenger out of whatever thought they were trying to outrun.
Wallace’s way of describing the murders are some of the many, many moments of dark comedy that is palpable throughout the novel.
It is a strong debut and I cannot wait to read more of what Wallace conjures!
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