Well-written and insightful friendship drama with a sluggish mystery element and little actual suspense.
The French Girl is the debut release by Lexie Elliott and although marketed as a psychological thriller with an intriguing mystery component, the novel is really as much about the complicated dynamics between a group of six university students and the dawning realisation that nothing was ever quite as simple as it appeared on the surface. The slow burning mystery element, centred around a decade old murder, is sluggish and a little too obvious to build genuine suspense however as an eloquently written and evocative story of the undercurrents, acrimony, passions and umbrage between a group of loosely aligned ‘friends’ and a retrospective analysis, the story proves absorbing. Much of that has to do with the excellent characterisation of sole narrator, Kate Channing, a witty, insightful and no-nonsense legal headhunter full of sharp analysis and black humour.
The novel opens with the discovery of the remains of a decade old corpse and the unwelcome memories of an ill-fated vacation at a farmhouse in Dordogne where a group of six twenty-one-year-old newly graduated Oxford students spent a week. Marked by the presence of “the mademoiselle next door” in the enigmatic Severine Dupas with all her self-possession and poise, the week ended in a rancorous argument amongst the group and Severine’s disappearance. It is the recovery of her bones that brings French detective, Monsieur Alain Modan, to London and with it the reopening of a murder investigation duly testing the loyalties amongst the now disparate group. Narrated entirely by now thirty-one-year-old feisty and state school educated, Kate, the renewed focus brings the group back together and summons up a host of recriminations and airs fresh secrets and she struggles to make a success of her fledging legal headhunting venture.
Dropping her readers straight into the drama, Lexie Elliott allows Kate’s narrative to flesh out each of the group, their alliances and divisions over that fateful week and shed light on the awkward reunion that ends up like “a macabre version of pass the parcel” where they quickly realise that one or more of the party must be guilty of murder. Of the six, just five remain alive - Kate’s sunny and promiscuous Swedish best friend, Lara; her ex-boyfriend, silver-spooned and moneyed Seb who she has never quite got over; Seb’s cousin and genial friend, Tom, and their sharp-tongued and scathing childhood friend, Caro Horridge. In contrast to the more familiar dual narrative recounting, it is Kate’s voice and perceptions alone that elicit the story as her tide of memories are analysed in hindsight. Savvy Kate is quick on the uptake as the tentative reunion is mired in hidden agendas, subterfuge and marred by suspicion. Shocked by the discoveries that she slowly makes she pretty soon realises that by virtue of Seb’s infidelity with Severine she is the prime suspect for a murder with a supposed motive being the jealous rage of a spurned lover.
As Kate is rattled by Alain Modan’s questions and rumours start to affect her burgeoning business venture she takes the bull by the horns and responds as opposed to sitting back and letting the murky investigation determine her future and the continuation of her life outside of the case adds to the successful realisation of her character. Aside from Kate and Lara, the rest of the cast are fairly stereotypical creations and for all her early work, Elliott never really quite explores any in depth beyond Kate. Seb and Caro are far less original portrayals and the odd characterisation of Tom and his sudden change from viable murderer to romantic interest overnight feels unlikely. The narrative is punctuated by the all too frequent and unnecessary presence of a vision of Severine, loitering at the edge of every part of Kate’s life in a somewhat strange literary device and feels out of place quickly becoming an irritation, likewise the overdone reflection on Kate’s feelings for Seb a decade later.
All affected insouciance and Gallic shrugs, the indefatigable Modan’s inquiries precede at a snails pace with little evidence to tie anyone of the group to Severine’s death until a third of the way into the novel and the story would have benefitted from offering readers a firmer basis to connect them, as opposed to any passing local, to the case. However the French detective’s attraction to Kate’s best friend, Lara, helps to sow distrust and adds intrigue. I would have appreciated more of an incisive and credible investigation and somehow the lack of closure seems fitting given Lexie Elliott’s story is more about the dynamics between friends and less about actually dispensing justice. Sadly from the off it never feels like anyone could end up behind bars and as the resolution fizzles out with very little recourse it makes for a slightly disappointing close.
An absorbing read with a half-hearted investigation marred by a lack of suspense, The French Girl, is exceptionally well-written but as a psychological thriller it slightly misses the mark. I look forward, however, to reading Lexie Elliott’s future efforts.
With thanks to Readers First who provided me with a free copy of this novel in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion.
The novel opens with the discovery of the remains of a decade old corpse and the unwelcome memories of an ill-fated vacation at a farmhouse in Dordogne where a group of six twenty-one-year-old newly graduated Oxford students spent a week. Marked by the presence of “the mademoiselle next door” in the enigmatic Severine Dupas with all her self-possession and poise, the week ended in a rancorous argument amongst the group and Severine’s disappearance. It is the recovery of her bones that brings French detective, Monsieur Alain Modan, to London and with it the reopening of a murder investigation duly testing the loyalties amongst the now disparate group. Narrated entirely by now thirty-one-year-old feisty and state school educated, Kate, the renewed focus brings the group back together and summons up a host of recriminations and airs fresh secrets and she struggles to make a success of her fledging legal headhunting venture.
Dropping her readers straight into the drama, Lexie Elliott allows Kate’s narrative to flesh out each of the group, their alliances and divisions over that fateful week and shed light on the awkward reunion that ends up like “a macabre version of pass the parcel” where they quickly realise that one or more of the party must be guilty of murder. Of the six, just five remain alive - Kate’s sunny and promiscuous Swedish best friend, Lara; her ex-boyfriend, silver-spooned and moneyed Seb who she has never quite got over; Seb’s cousin and genial friend, Tom, and their sharp-tongued and scathing childhood friend, Caro Horridge. In contrast to the more familiar dual narrative recounting, it is Kate’s voice and perceptions alone that elicit the story as her tide of memories are analysed in hindsight. Savvy Kate is quick on the uptake as the tentative reunion is mired in hidden agendas, subterfuge and marred by suspicion. Shocked by the discoveries that she slowly makes she pretty soon realises that by virtue of Seb’s infidelity with Severine she is the prime suspect for a murder with a supposed motive being the jealous rage of a spurned lover.
As Kate is rattled by Alain Modan’s questions and rumours start to affect her burgeoning business venture she takes the bull by the horns and responds as opposed to sitting back and letting the murky investigation determine her future and the continuation of her life outside of the case adds to the successful realisation of her character. Aside from Kate and Lara, the rest of the cast are fairly stereotypical creations and for all her early work, Elliott never really quite explores any in depth beyond Kate. Seb and Caro are far less original portrayals and the odd characterisation of Tom and his sudden change from viable murderer to romantic interest overnight feels unlikely. The narrative is punctuated by the all too frequent and unnecessary presence of a vision of Severine, loitering at the edge of every part of Kate’s life in a somewhat strange literary device and feels out of place quickly becoming an irritation, likewise the overdone reflection on Kate’s feelings for Seb a decade later.
All affected insouciance and Gallic shrugs, the indefatigable Modan’s inquiries precede at a snails pace with little evidence to tie anyone of the group to Severine’s death until a third of the way into the novel and the story would have benefitted from offering readers a firmer basis to connect them, as opposed to any passing local, to the case. However the French detective’s attraction to Kate’s best friend, Lara, helps to sow distrust and adds intrigue. I would have appreciated more of an incisive and credible investigation and somehow the lack of closure seems fitting given Lexie Elliott’s story is more about the dynamics between friends and less about actually dispensing justice. Sadly from the off it never feels like anyone could end up behind bars and as the resolution fizzles out with very little recourse it makes for a slightly disappointing close.
An absorbing read with a half-hearted investigation marred by a lack of suspense, The French Girl, is exceptionally well-written but as a psychological thriller it slightly misses the mark. I look forward, however, to reading Lexie Elliott’s future efforts.
With thanks to Readers First who provided me with a free copy of this novel in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion.