I can never resist a wedding thriller. Call me a romantic, but nothing sets my heart aflutter quite like the prospect of murder and mayhem on that special day. So I went into The Last One at the Wedding with high expectations. But unfortunately, it disappointed from pretty much beginning to end.

Frank hasn't spoken to his daughter Maggie in three years. So when he gets a phone call from her, he's rightfully thrilled. And he's even more so when he hears that she's getting married and wants him to walk her down the aisle. But when Frank arrives at the three-day wedding extravaganza, he starts to realize that all is not right.

The story is told from Frank's perspective, and honestly, probably my biggest problem is that I just never connected with him. While I don't always have to love and be chummy chummy with all my protagonists, I do have to understand them. And I just couldn't get there with Frank.

His paranoia reaches the level of making my eyes roll with practically every thought and every sentence. Sure, it eventually turns out that his paranoia is justified, for how else would we even have a story? But it didn't make reading his perspective any easier or any more fun.

But it's more than that. For some reason, Frank came off as extremely unlikable. Now a lot of authors write unlikable characters, and they have no bearing or may even add to my enjoyment of the story. But in this case, I have the uncomfortable feeling that Jason Rekulak may have accidentally made Frank unlikable, that he thought he was crafting a personable guy and instead created a weird and bumbling one.

There were so many moments when Frank would make an observation in his head or open his mouth to say something, and I would just cringe so hard. Like he saw a couple where the man is old and the woman is young and called them "unnatural, a freakish mutation of human biology." It felt so unnecessary and inappropriate, and I winced in embarrassment for him. And it was like this the whole way through.

I tell you, it's hard to enjoy a story when you're wincing and cringing at the main character's every thought. I should've been focused on the thrills, but instead I was mired in second-hand embarrassment.

But it wasn't just Frank. I felt like all the characters were slightly off, doing and saying things that no actual person would do and say in those situations. It's clear that each interaction was there to further a specific point in the plot line and they were shoehorned in to achieve that, no matter how awkward the result may be.

As for the twists, they were fine, although with the weird characterizations, it made it hard for me to really buy in to them. It felt like characters were just randomly assigned roles in the reveal, and when the time came, their personalities were bent and changed to further that goal.

So when we finally reached the end of the book, I understandably breathed a sigh of relief. But then I turned the page and there was a whole nother section left? I realize now that this is Rekulak's modus operandi. He likes to end his thrillers with a nice leisurely wrap-up, just to spell out in long form how everything works out for everyone, kind of like a HEA for thrillers. But there's a reason no one does them. I tolerated it for Hidden Pictures because I loved that story so much, but here, it just made a mediocre tale feel even longer.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

Every once in a while, a book comes along that is so compelling, so superb in a multitude of ways, it makes me rethink every 5-star rating I have ever given. And so Big Little Lies falls squarely into that lofty pantheon.

On the surface, this seems like a story I've read a thousand times before. A neighborhood of women keeping secrets. A death, or could it possibly be murder? And an investigation into what really happened underneath the calm, placid facade of small town Pirriwee. And yet, this was so much more, and I'm still reeling from just how hard it hit me.

From the very first page, this book held me in its thralls. I couldn't put it down, I couldn't look away. Every scene, every character, every conflict, they all felt so vividly drawn. There is a sharpness to the writing and the observations that is so searing and spot-on, it could almost feel a little painful if not for the humor.

And this book was definitely funny. I often found myself grinning and chuckling along, trying to savor all the witty lines. If I were the sort to freely wield a highlighter at every whim, I'm pretty sure I would've marked up the entire thing. With satire, my preferences are always for the subtle. Is Liane Moriarty actually being serious or is she really poking gentle fun at the characters and us in turn? That fine line between truth and exaggeration is where her writing style really shines, as does her keen eye for the absurdity of human nature.

We take our turn following three different characters. Now usually when that's the case, it would inevitably lead to one or the other perspective being more interesting, while the rest are relegated to the role of the ugly stepchildren. But no such fears here. Every single narrative arc was just as interesting and compelling as the next, and I couldn't gobble them up fast enough.

I have to talk about one of the core themes of this book and a big reason why this was such an impactful read for me. Domestic violence, at least for those of us who are fortunate enough never to have experienced it, has always felt like a somewhat nebulous concept. Of course we sympathize with the victims, but underlying all that is always the vaguely puzzled questions—why do they stay? why don't they just leave? With this story, Liane Moriarty has sketched out with so much skill and emotional clarity exactly all of those reasons why. And in the process, she has given a voice to domestic violence victims and brought them to life.

Every page of this book has felt like a breath of fresh air, equal parts biting and invigorating. Everything I'd want in a story—light and dark, funny and scary, entertaining and insightful—is all here. Surely it should be impossible to achieve all that in one single book, yet through some special alchemy, Liane Moriarty has managed to do just that. And the result is something memorable and extraordinary indeed.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

Can a cozy fantasy be too cozy? Unfortunately, the answer here is yes.

When I think of a cozy fantasy, what I want is to be swept away in a story that's warm and comforting, but also compelling. And that last part is perhaps especially important since it can often be hard to achieve the right balance in this cozy genre. Because no matter how seemingly low stakes a tale may be, there must still be some depth and things of importance on the line. And for me, The Teller of Small Fortunes just never quite got there.

It pains me to say that my mind wandered constantly. The story failed to grab me, not in the beginning, nor in the middle, and not even eventually in the end when we get to the most exciting scenes. It lacked that all-important tension throughout, without which nothing really propelled the story forward.

It doesn't help that we had no permanent setting. Instead, Tao and her friends go from one town to the next. Each chapter brings a new location, so it felt like a string of short stories instead of one cohesive whole. Even though there were a few overarching goals for the merry band of travelers, they somehow felt very diluted and lacked the weight necessary to hold the story together.

Even the dialogue felt very low stakes, with no actual conflicts or surprises at play. As you enter each conversation, it's clear where it's going, and indeed it goes there. The way the characters talk to each other doesn't hold the authenticity of real, distinct people. Instead, it feels like an approximation of what dialogue should be, but cozified so that everyone talks the same and it achieves the warm fuzzy feeling without any of the give and take of real conversation.

And when we finally reach the end, that felt like a letdown too. All the overarching conflicts were instantly resolved, without any pushback or depth or even the slightest unexpectedness. It just felt so insubstantial after the whole journey.

Maybe it's me and this style of cozy isn't to my taste. A friend read this and greatly enjoyed it, as did the majority of readers for this book. So take my thoughts with a grain of salt and don't let me dissuade you, especially if you're a fan of this cozy genre.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

A mystery in epistolary form? Sign me up!

Before going in, I had heard a lot about Janice Hallett. Her unique take on mysteries—where every crime, every clue, and every suspect is presented via emails and messages—sounds as fun as it is intriguing. So it's with much anticipation that I finally pick up her debut and see for myself what all the fuss is about.

And The Appeal definitely starts off strong. We're immediately dropped into the fray and the action, being privy to the private conversations that fly back and forth between all the different characters. There's no setup to get through, no background we need to know first. The format lends an undeniably zippy feel to the whole thing, and you can't help but turn the pages, wanting to read just a little bit more.

But somewhere around the 80-page mark, I started getting confused. Because where is the mystery? I thought I'd signed up to read a murderous play, but all I got thus far was small-town petty drama. And the more I read, the less appealing it got.

For me, a large part of the issue is that the murder isn't even alluded to until more than 250 pages in. If that sounds like a lot of pages to get through before anything happens, I assure you it was. In the meantime, we must wade through so many emails and messages detailing the small and seemingly inconsequential minutiae of life and play. Yes, there were a few nefarious whiffs here and there, but they felt more like interpersonal drama than anything substantial enough to uphold the weight of a proper mystery.

Once the murder happens, things do pick up. But here again, I feel like I have to nitpick a little. The way the investigation unfolds is a little bit awkward. It's two lawyers trying to figure it out while a third lawyer who already knows everything eggs them on, so it comes across somewhat forced. Not only that, but they must examine the crime from every possible angle. That means every suspect and every theory is talked about at length, and it was so detailed as to be bordering on tedious. I even started having trouble keeping it all clear and square in my mind.

And yet, for all my misgivings, when we do finally reach the end, it comes together in a satisfying way. That, plus the interesting format, has me intrigued. This is a debut, so perhaps some of the issues I ran into were just growing pains and more writing experience would iron it out? I have a few more of Janice Hallett's books lined up and time will tell.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

I try to approach books with minimal expectations. After all, there's nothing more disappointing than going into a much-hyped book with glee and coming out with vague puzzlement about whether we all read the same book. But try as I may, I often can't help myself. The heart wants what it wants, for why else would I be reading in the first place if not to be blown away?

And so I cracked open Hidden Pictures with my usual mix of tempered yet hopeful anticipation, waiting to see which way this book would fall. And I tell you, I knew from almost the very beginning. I was only four pages in when I dropped my library ebook, ran out to my local bookstore, and bought a physical copy so that I could own what I hoped would be a new favorite. And I was right.

Talk about a riveting experience. From the first page to the last, this book had me hooked. I didn't just read it, I inhaled it. The pages slipped through my hands and before I knew it, hours had passed. It's exactly the sort of immersiveness I love and crave in a story.

There is so much tension in here, my spine tingled from it. It was the perfect mix of spooky (not too much), thrilling (very), and mystery (puzzling), and I just ate it up. The mystery, in particularly, was compelling and fun, and I totally enjoyed armchair detecting along with Mallory as she tried to figure out what was going on.

The use of drawings in here has to be a stroke of genius. They are such an integral part of the story and added so much to the spooky ambience. It made it feel like I was reading something special and inimitable. And—let's be honest—even though we're all grownups, I bet we still get pretty excited when we see illustrations in our books, amirite?

That isn't to say this book is without flaws. In terms of sheer funness, the first half of the book definitely has the second half beat. That's probably because setting up a story isn't quite the same as finishing it. So as we start to approach the denouement with all of its twists and turns, there was a noticeable change in the vibe of the story. It went from the perfect amount of spine-tingling thrill to more of eyebrow-raising crazy chaos.

Which brings me to the question: can a story have too many twists? I think so, and I think that's what happened here. The main mystery is already interesting enough, but I think this book went a bit overboard as it wrapped everything up. The twists piled upon twists at the end started to max out my dopamine receptors, and all I felt was numbness in the face of so much mayhem.

But those are minor quibbles in the overall scheme of how much I enjoyed this story. In fact, I had so much fun that if I'm ranking books based solely on that criteria, this would have to be near the top. Just for that alone, and for how memorable it is, it gets all 5 stars from me.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!