Daaamnnnn this book took me for a ride but maybe not in the way I had hoped. I spent the first half telling people that this might be my book of the year and look maybe I jinxed myself but it went so quickly down a path that just was not satisfying for me. Frustratingly I read the blurb of this too close to reading which meant I could remember what it said which meant half of the book was not at all a mystery. This is a huge pet peeve of mine, I just want to be surprised by the plot! I don’t want to be aware of the pivotal moment before it happens. I was getting wafts of similarity between this, My Year of Rest and Relaxation and Saltwater by Jessica Andrews. Both favourites. They share a visceral murkiness that you feel leaching down your spine.  Unsettlingly oozing with choices you wouldn’t make yourself in situations that you are glad to not be living. I couldn’t help but love it. For me, the final third of the book lost the intensity and strength it had possessed. I felt it got tangled in its own skirts, leaving the muddied taste of things left not quite right.