YOU KNOW HER

A subversive serial-killer tale that dives headfirst into a furious mind.

Sophie Braam bartends in small-town Virginia, bearing witness to awful behavior from her male patrons and co-workers, whom she likens to insects: “A thousand licking tongues laid their voices like eggs in the soft places of me, hatching with every slippery compliment drifting down my thigh…an entire universe of mites writhing, making a home, under my skin.” One night, Mark Dixon—a wealthy friend of the restaurant owner—arrives while Sophie is closing, needles her with his drunken entitlement, and sexually assaults her. Sophie snaps and strangles Mark in self-defense. These opening chapters build tension masterfully. Jennett plays with our sympathies by rooting us in Sophie’s point of view, demonstrating how her murderous impulses are rooted in relatable and well-articulated rage against misogynistic violence. Sophie explains: “A witch in the woods is not born overnight; we are grown.” Meanwhile, Nora Martin, a biracial police officer investigating Mark’s murder, is haunted by the “haints” of female murder victims. This teases an intriguing premise that never fully actualizes, wherein the detective on the killer’s trail understands and even sympathizes with the killer, à la Will Graham from Thomas Harris’ Hannibal series. (Sophie possesses shades of Hannibal Lecter’s artful hubris and anatomical knowledge, combined with the sociopathy of Lou Ford from Jim Thompson’s The Killer Inside Me.) Sophie’s lacerating insights about patriarchy are woven into tangled screeds whose ultimate point is that “all men are the same,” a position that goes relatively unchallenged. The deliriously vengeful narration compels the reader to continue but is bloated with so much grotesquely beautiful imagery and metaphor that the language often impedes narrative momentum.

A fascinating debut crime novel that is more despairing than satisfying.