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A review by beau_reads_books
The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton
2.0
“Do rabbits dig the same warrens, disturbing the same insects? Do the same birds fly the same patterns, crashing into the same windows? If this is a trap, what kind of prey is worthy of it?”
Well, I’m about 6 years and nearly 400,000 reviews late and everything that’s needed to be said about “The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle” has been said. But, not by me. You’re throwing a dinner party and have invited a group in which each individual prefers a specific kind of pasta. Your solution was to throw them all into the pot together regardless of how some shapes cook at different times or how some taste better with different sauces. The end result is a discordant, confusing dish that is still…pasta. And pasta is good! That’s what reading this book was like. There’s a unique thrill in the chaos, a fun game of “what on earth could possibly happen next” is the main draw of the plot. Very quickly the urge to figure out the mystery is thrown out the window: it’s clear the author was always a step ahead and was able to bury any plot holes in the utter confusion of the story. Maybe he could have shaved off about 100 pages or so and it would be a tighter ship, but who cares when the game doesn’t make sense and the points don’t matter? Hold on to the bar and enjoy the ride. However, there’s that one type of noodle that remained south of al dente…
The book is fatphobic. No getting around it. In his own words, in an effort to represent a character as “loathsome” as possible, he made them a banker. Yet, his career comes up once or twice whereas his gluttonous appetite and “considerable bulk” or “many chins” stained every page where the character was present. In a book where body diversity could have been a dope, explorative concept, Turton managed to inject as much body shame as he possibly could into it. Fat people exist! Calling that much attention with deplorable descriptions has what purpose within the context? The rapist was treated better. Nasty business, Turton.
2/5 A 5-star story whittled away, bit by bit, by immature and irrelevant cruelty.
Well, I’m about 6 years and nearly 400,000 reviews late and everything that’s needed to be said about “The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle” has been said. But, not by me. You’re throwing a dinner party and have invited a group in which each individual prefers a specific kind of pasta. Your solution was to throw them all into the pot together regardless of how some shapes cook at different times or how some taste better with different sauces. The end result is a discordant, confusing dish that is still…pasta. And pasta is good! That’s what reading this book was like. There’s a unique thrill in the chaos, a fun game of “what on earth could possibly happen next” is the main draw of the plot. Very quickly the urge to figure out the mystery is thrown out the window: it’s clear the author was always a step ahead and was able to bury any plot holes in the utter confusion of the story. Maybe he could have shaved off about 100 pages or so and it would be a tighter ship, but who cares when the game doesn’t make sense and the points don’t matter? Hold on to the bar and enjoy the ride. However, there’s that one type of noodle that remained south of al dente…
The book is fatphobic. No getting around it. In his own words, in an effort to represent a character as “loathsome” as possible, he made them a banker. Yet, his career comes up once or twice whereas his gluttonous appetite and “considerable bulk” or “many chins” stained every page where the character was present. In a book where body diversity could have been a dope, explorative concept, Turton managed to inject as much body shame as he possibly could into it. Fat people exist! Calling that much attention with deplorable descriptions has what purpose within the context? The rapist was treated better. Nasty business, Turton.
2/5 A 5-star story whittled away, bit by bit, by immature and irrelevant cruelty.