I’m definitely late to the game with Janelle Brown’s Watch Me Disappear, and shamefully late to my complete adoration of Brown’s other works entirely. Her latest Pretty Things was my favorite book of 2020, so I couldn’t help but start on the backlist. Watch Me Disappear is a can’t miss, even if it’s been out since 2017 and I’m painfully behind a million other people having read this book first. Add it to your list if you haven’t already.
Our female lead, Billie, is presumed dead after taking a hike alone in a deserted area. It’s been a year and her husband Jonathon and daughter Olive are still dealing with the consequences of her death and their relationships with each other, while being forced to examine their relationships with Billie too.
The central story is our investigation into what really happened to Billie and it’s an unexpected, wild ride.
Watch Me Disappear earns 4 of 5 stars.
I hated Billie on every page of this book. Selfish, shallow, wandering and absent. I still hate Billie to this day, weeks later. Which says a lot for a character who is only seen in flashbacks by our existing characters. I appreciated our 16-year-old Olive. As the father of two teen daughter’s myself, Olive was incredibly believable and not a caricature, as many surly teens are often depicted. Kudos to Brown on this one. Jonathon’s actions were rife with missteps, and I was definitely not rooting for this guy at any point in the story. But I wanted answers and Brown kept holding out on me.
Brown keeps the central question of what really happened to Billie front and center and only gives us the satisfaction of resolution in the final words of the book. Do yourself a favor and don’t skip to the last page to get your answer. It’s worth the wait.
As an author, I have a hard time reading a novel when I’m writing one myself. This book blazed by even at 400+ pages and I could still write my own stuff. I have a dangerous habit of guessing the ending or spotting red herrings in everything I read. I can’t help it. It’s a habit, but boy, was I wrong this time. I was fooled many times over. And dang, it feels good to be wrong.