Hmm, is this really a thriller? I feel like the wires might have gotten crossed for me.
The Wife Upstairs is supposed to be a modern-day take on Jane Eyre, though with more secrets, lots of twists, and obviously some murderous results. But instead of being suspenseful and thrilling, I found the story to be more cheerful and laugh-out-loud funny.
For most of the book, I felt like I was reading a romantic comedy as Jane and Eddie got to know each other. It was light and fluffy (though potty-mouthed), without any tension that would indicate something was amiss. There was also a good amount of commentary about the sheer inaneness of suburban life, which added a good dose of humor to the story.
I kept waiting for Jane's secrets to show up, or for Eddie to drop hints and act like he's a monster waiting to pounce, but nothing really happens. There weren't any undercurrents of suspense or tension in the story that I could perceive. It just felt... jovial, which doesn't seem like the right feeling I should be getting out of this.
And when we get to the reveals, they seemed weak and underwhelming for a thriller. I don't know if my expectations just weren't set correctly, but I found everything to be so silly and over-the-top, I kept giggling at inappropriate moments. It was so unrealistic and logistically impossible that it was hard to take the story seriously or to care about how everything shakes out.
My reaction to this book is a headscratcher for sure, especially in light of how thrilling everyone else found it to be. It entertained me, but I feel like I read a different story and possibly an entirely different genre than everyone else.
Readaroo Rating: 3 stars
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