Don’t judge a book by its blog post

Last weekend I had the misfortune to sprain my ankle while doing something supremely boring (helping the hubs move a picnic table) during a camping weekend. Obviously I told people I wrestled tigers and saved helpless kittens from trees to explain away the lackluster cause of my injury, but it remained the same. I had three full days of nothing to do except sit on my ass and prop up my foot.

I did have the foresight to bring a book along on the trip. I usually do, but they sit unread at the bottom of my backpack while I’m off hiking, swimming, or playing. On this occasion, however, I had nothing but time.

I brought The Murder Farm by Andrea Maria Schenkel, which, at 208 pages, is a super quick read for me. I read a blog post about the book and how it brought a new perspective to traditional murder story-telling. It was called “thrilling” and “suspenseful”.

It was anything but.

The format of the book was uncomfortable. The point of view switched from person to person and the only way you could tell was a change in font style. When the story was being told from the viewpoint of the witnesses/bystanders, it was as if the reader was a reporter attempting to perform interviews for a story about the farm. When it swapped, you were the murderer.

From the background that was provided through the interviews, I figured out who the culprit was fairly quickly. That doesn’t necessarily detract from the thrill of finding out the hows and whys of what happened, and I have to be honest, there were parts of the book that had me flying through the pages.

But the ending.

I have never been so disappointed in the ending of a story than I am in this one. There was no closure, no “case closed”, no “the end”. It didn’t end on a cliffhanger. It wasn’t a nail-biter. It was nothing. It was a “…that’s it?” ending.

So, it’s difficult to give this book a solid rating. The story was good. Format was awkward. Ending sucked.

3/5.