Following on from The Miniaturist and, even better, The Muse I was anticipating something equally crafted; something that would take me into another bold mysterious Jessie Burton world; somewhere that kept me wondering throughout. Sadly it didn't.
Not unlike The Muse, The Confession moves between two modern periods, as two generations attempt to understand and make sense of themselves and their relationships. It should have been engrossing, but the plot didn't intrique - maybe it wasn't supposed to. Only one of the characters stood out and even she was difficult to relate to. The others were all strangely one dimensional.
But maybe the most irritating was the writing style. The novel moves between third and first person, depending on the period - not normally a problem, but it felt clumsy this time. There is also quite a lot of dialogue, much of which is supposed to sound collequial but actually just jars. Indeed, it all seemed to go on a bit too long.
Clearly Jessie Burton has a considerable talent, which The Confession doesn't display, so I'll look out for her next work,and hope she is back up to her former standards.