In a world where time loops and murder mysteries rarely collide, Stuart Turton’s The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle (or The 7 ½ Deaths if you’re reading stateside) bursts onto the scene like a caffeine-fueled Agatha Christie, armed with a spiral notebook and a healthy disregard for linear time.
Imagine this: You wake up in a grandiose, crumbling manor, surrounded by a motley crew of aristocrats, each hiding more secrets than your average locked drawer. You have no memory of who you are or why you’re there. It’s the perfect setup for a classic whodunit. But here’s the catch: you’re not just one person, you’re eight. And you’ve got one day—over and over again—to solve the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle. Fail, and you’ll be stuck in this bizarre Groundhog Day meets Clue nightmare indefinitely. Oh, and did I mention that someone is trying to kill you too?
Turton’s debut novel is nothing short of an intellectual joyride, spinning readers through a labyrinthine plot that would make even the most seasoned mystery reader dizzy. It’s a story that revels in its complexity, unapologetically demanding your full attention, like a cat that’s just knocked over your favorite mug and is now staring at you, daring you to do something about it.
Let’s break it down: You, dear reader, are dropped into the unfortunate body of Dr. Sebastian Bell, a mild-mannered doctor with a shaky grasp on reality. But before you can say “second opinion,” you’re whisked into another host, and then another. Each host—some more unpleasant than others—offers unique insights and skills, but also their own limitations. The catch? Their flaws and biases threaten to obscure the truth, forcing you to navigate not just the murky waters of a high-society murder, but also the treacherous currents of each character’s psyche.
Turton masterfully juggles these narrative threads, weaving them into a tapestry that’s as intricate as it is compelling. The structure of the novel itself is a marvel—a puzzle wrapped in a riddle, dipped in a vat of “What on earth is happening?” The non-linear progression could easily have been a disaster in less capable hands, but Turton manages to keep all the plates spinning with the dexterity of a seasoned circus performer.
And then there’s Evelyn herself, the titular character who, despite her numerous deaths, remains an enigma. Is she the victim, or is there more to her story? The novel keeps you guessing until the very end, unspooling its secrets at a pace that’s both maddening and delightful.
But beneath the layers of intrigue and deception, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is a meditation on guilt, redemption, and the human capacity for change. Each loop forces the protagonist—and by extension, the reader—to confront uncomfortable truths, not just about the murder, but about themselves. It’s a narrative that rewards patience and careful consideration, much like a fine wine that demands to be savored, not guzzled.
Turton’s prose is sharp and witty, often peppered with dry humor that serves as a delightful counterpoint to the novel’s darker themes. His characters, though numerous, are distinct and memorable, each with their own quirks and foibles. And while the sheer complexity of the plot might leave some readers scratching their heads, those who stick with it will find themselves richly rewarded.
In the end, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle is not just a murder mystery; it’s a masterclass in storytelling that defies genre conventions and leaves readers questioning not just the identity of the killer, but the very nature of reality itself. It’s a book that demands to be read more than once, if only to fully appreciate the intricate web Turton has spun. So, if you’re in the mood for a mind-bending, genre-blending, time-looping adventure, look no further. Evelyn Hardcastle’s many deaths are waiting to be unraveled—and it’s up to you to solve the mystery before the clock runs out. Again.
