Three girls survive separate serial killers – and now they are connected by a new murderous threat.
Genre: Y/A, Thriller, Mystery,
No. of pages: 340
Ten years ago, college student Quincy Carpenter went on vacation with five friends and came back alone, the only survivor of a horror movie–scale massacre. In an instant, she became a member of a club no one wants to belong to—a group of similar survivors known in the press as the Final Girls. Lisa, who lost nine sorority sisters to a college dropout’s knife; Sam, who went up against the Sack Man during her shift at the Nightlight Inn; and now Quincy, who ran bleeding through the woods to escape Pine Cottage and the man she refers to only as Him. The three girls are all attempting to put their nightmares behind them, and, with that, one another. Despite the media’s attempts, they never meet.
Now, Quincy is doing well—maybe even great, thanks to her Xanax prescription. She has a caring almost-fiancé, Jeff; a popular baking blog; a beautiful apartment; and a therapeutic presence in Coop, the police officer who saved her life all those years ago. Her memory won’t even allow her to recall the events of that night; the past is in the past.
That is, until Lisa, the first Final Girl, is found dead in her bathtub, wrists slit, and Sam, the second, appears on Quincy’s doorstep. Blowing through Quincy’s life like a whirlwind, Sam seems intent on making Quincy relive the past, with increasingly dire consequences, all of which makes Quincy question why Sam is really seeking her out. And when new details about Lisa’s death come to light, Quincy’s life becomes a race against time as she tries to unravel Sam’s truths from her lies, evade the police and hungry reporters, and, most crucially, remember what really happened at Pine Cottage, before what was started ten years ago is finished.
This was a thrilling and interesting read. I wasn’t quite sold on ‘Final Girls’ because I had difficulty relating to the protagonist, and she was always doing irrational things – stupid behaviour typical of pulp horror movie classics. In that way, ‘Final Girls’ is an entertaining homage to the genre; but for me, it was simply frustrating. I like my heroines intelligent, aware, and proactive. Quincy came across as volatile, reactive, and whiny.
It was on the cusp of being predictable – maybe because I’d already heard there was a twist, so I was really paying attention to the narrative. I wouldn’t say I predicted the ending, but I definitely pegged the murderer in my top two suspects… though the backstory to how this came about was a complete surprise. So Riley Sager definitely got me a good one. I have to admit his writing skills are right up there with the best. He can craft tension, suspense, and a reveal with expertise.
I already mentioned that Qunicy was not my favourite protagonist. It was like if she had just taken a step back and followed some common sense, most of this book would not have happened – which feels like a flimsy plot device for ‘Final Girls.’ It feels like this did a disservice to Sager’s writing, because he clearly has the chops to construct engaging prose.
Jeff, Quincy’s husband, really felt superfluous to the plot, I even found myself questioning why he was in the book in the first place. He did not feel like her husband, but merely a plot device.
Sam was wrong from the start – again a lot of frustration blossomed because of her character, and on the surface, she did not match the profile of a final girl… and this was dragged through the entirety of the novel. We do get some development of her character through conversations and Quincy’s research, but I feel like we should have gotten a more realised character in the beginning. It would have provided much more impact when sequential reveals happen later.
Coop was a really interesting character and I liked the tension built between him and the other characters.
There was a lot of jumping around the timeline through repressed memories resurfacing and flashbacks in conjunction with the current timeline, I’m not usually a fan of this storytelling device, amnesia is such a tired device, but it framed the plot really well. Though there was a bit too much compartmentalisation going on for me. Quincy intentionally kept her memories, and the people in her life, apart… which was another source of my frustration.
This many-times-mentioned frustration was good and bad. Good, in that is kept me interested and eager to uncover the truths behind my suspicions; and bad in that some plausibility was on flimsy ground.
I loved the concept of ‘Final Girls’ it had me enrapt from the first page and I am keen to read more from Riley Sager, he really knows how to exude atmosphere from the page. There was a reveal in every chapter, so the pacing was set at a cracking pace from start to finish.
Compelling read I recommend to all. On a side not, with Universal Studios having optioned this title for a film. I’m looking forward to how this story translates to the big screen.
Overall feeling: idiocy and jump scares galore…
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I think writers are much like albino animals – rarely seen in the wild, perceived as odd, weird, or magical, but on the whole, (apart from the propensity to get sunburn) no different to the regular coloured masses. I’m beginning to learn that the general public’s assumptions of what a writer is, is so vastly different to what I actually do. It’s up there with astronaut or vascular surgeon – it sounds impressive but we don’t know the ins and outs of what they actually do every day. (Not that being a writer is as important as an astronaut or a vascular surgeon – just that they are job titles not many know details about) I’m frequently launching into the mechanics of writhing and the publishing world for friends and family. Their notions that I sit at my computer for a few weeks, churn out a novel and then send if off into the ether to be transformed into a book on the shelves of stores is completely naive.
A stroll down memory lane to the time when I had a brand new driver’s licence I happened to borrow my dad’s ute to take a girlfriend home… and well, the trip didn’t go as planned.
What happened next was a collage of permed hair and hooped earrings flapping in the breeze as the car skidded across the road, turning one and a half times, jolting to a stop on the other side of the road facing the wrong way. And off to the side of the road a large dirt storm gutter decorated with metal star pickets.
Thank goodness for deserted small towns. And that the car stopped at the curb. Unscratched, still rumbling like a leopard with a cold.
Casey Carlisle 