Book Review: TINY DAGGERS

Title: Tiny Daggers

Author: Caroline Corcoran

Publisher: Thomas & Mercer

Pages: 328

My GoodReads Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

 

Stay-at-home-mother of preteen Rebecca and toddler Alfie, Holly Jones and her husband, banker Hugh, both British, now live a life of privilege and luxury in Miami. Holly spends her days queening over her friends, expats like herself, Violet, Sophie, Erica and Claire, and struggling hard to hold on to her own youth and beauty, constantly plumping her face with Botox. When she gets a job at celebrity club, Pink, she is thrilled about the opportunity to do something independently.  

Into this privileged lifestyle steps in Holly Wild, one-time teenage best friend of Holly Jones when they were in school. Suddenly Holly Wild is everywhere, hobnobbing with Holly’s friends (they even call her Hol), in Holly Jones’ house, befriending Rebecca and even, she strongly suspects, flirting with Hugh, and clearly angling to get her new job at celebrity club, Pink, where Holly Jones has just been employed.

 

The story is written in the first person past tense perspectives of Holly Jones and Holly Wild, both of whom have a history we don’t yet know of. Interspersed with the account of Holly Jones are news accounts of a 15-year-old schoolgirl, Holly Babb, who was either kidnapped or left willingly with an adult, Gabriel Reid, at an undisclosed period of time. These news reports were banal, rehashing the same information over and over again.

The two Hollys are Good Holly and Bad Holly, but we don’t know who is who as the lines between them are often blurred.

 

The first PoV we read is that of Holly Jones. I struggled to like her, even though it seemed obvious that she was the wronged one. The perspective of Holly Jones took too long to get going. At the 35 percent mark, she foreshadows that things are about to go wrong, but we are none the wiser, not even at the 54 percent mark where Holly Jones’ account finally ends. Which means that we have spent more than half the book with an unreliable narrator who is talkative but doesn’t tell us anything worth knowing.

There’s a lot of unrequired information about mosquitoes and Zika, and the danger these insects pose in Miami. Whether Holly Jones should have a 40^th birthday party or not takes up an entire chapter.

Holly admits that she has secrets, but stops shy of offering any details. We don’t feel the dread that Holly feels with reference to Holly Wild because she mopes on and on about it for far too long. I could not wait to start the perspective of Holly Wild.

The first twist came on the first page of Holly Wild’s perspective, and it was so cringe, it was laughable. Subsequently, the twists came fast and furious but many of them were predictable.

There was a lot of repetition, Fizzing and fizzing and fizzing and fizzing and fizzing, not only of words, but even of whole sentences. 

 

With reference to the mosquito, mentioned many times too often here for its inherently evil nature, that has no teeth in its mouth, but has 47 tiny daggers concealed within (daggers so sharp, Holly Jones tells us, that we barely feel the bite), this book too refers to its chapters as daggers. And so, this book has 47 tiny daggers.  

The concept sounds novel at the outset, but repeated hammering causes the effect to wear off.

 

Most of the characters appear to be cardboard cutouts. Plus, there are lots of minor characters, and it’s hard to keep track. The only character I felt sorry for was a minor character who, we are told, has always been someone who needs little and radiates contentment.

Hugh was really annoying, particularly his tendency to address his wife as Holface, Holbags, Holster and other stupid derivations on her name.

Another thing that annoyed me: the author’s reference to a piece of jewellery worn around the ankle as an ankle bracelet. The right word is anklet.

 

Along the way, the author raises questions about the unfair beauty expectations imposed upon women, as opposed to men.

 

The writing was okay, except for the occasional childish similes which should have been taken out. These were suggested by her son. The author admits in the acknowledgements section that the book is peppered with his phrases and metaphors. While the phrases are cute, they sound like something a child would say. If you put such phrases and similes in the mouth of a 40-year-old woman, the effect is bound to jar. Here are some examples:

My heart crumpled like digestives.

Adrenalin whizzed round my body like it was on a bike.

The way Hugh’s forehead creased like over-dry washing.

Only one line struck me as quotable:

Habits aren’t like hearts; they take a while to break.

Overall, this book could have been better.

  

(I read this book on NetGalley. Thank you to the author, the publisher and NetGalley.)