The writing is oddly stilted and almost childlike for someone who is so widely touted as a masterful writer— of thrillers. The book is not thrilling just dumb. The narrative voice is annoying and interrupts the action just in time to ruin any kind of pacing you might begin to enjoy. I felt the characters are interchangeable— you never see them as real, just tropes. There’s the loyal servant, the movie star, the handsome, dissolute rake, the damaged child-man, the histrionic theater actor— every time something cool or interesting happens, the narrator intrudes to tell you exactly what to think. Michaelides seems to follow the James Patterson school of chapter length and last sentence writing— kind of insulting to be so inexpertly manipulated by this tired plot, setting, book. I finished it so I guess it worked?