Good evening, kiddos! Do you enjoy painstakingly slow books that basically just chronical a 50-year old woman’s daily routine while bitching about her asshole husband? Then shut up and read this stupid book. I’m sorry, I don’t want to read a book about how many sugars a girl puts in her oatmeal each morning. When I bought this book I was anticipating a creepy-as-fuck murder, probably because the font LITERALLY has KNIVES in it. Don’t get me wrong, there is definitely a murder. A very uneventful and boring murder. But it was almost impossible to reach that point of the book because Harrison was too busy describing which leg the main character puts through her trousers first.
Another thing: I have an extremely hard time reading books that basically glorify having an affair. My life rule: if you cheat, you are a disgusting bastard of a man/woman and you deserve nothing more than the fiery pits of hell. The Silent Wife is based on a husband cheating on his wife of almost 30 years. Hence the murdery-part. But I felt like the author worked a little too hard trying to convine me that cheating is okay because he found a new 20-year old girlfriend and he’s happier than he’s ever been. Fuck off.
This review is short as heck because I am personally offended I wasted my time reading this book. Don’t read it. I’m not even posting the link to buy it. Hot garbage.
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