Jenny Blackhurst

This is a very clever thriller, with an origami plot that keeps folding itself into increasingly complex and surprising shapes. That alone would have kept me turning the pages to see how my understanding of events was going to be re-arranged, yet there’s more to this book than its plot.

The plot is wrapped around the apparently shiny-happy lives of a group of wealthy people living in a gated community in Cheshire. This is an area of the England that I’m familiar with and part of the fun show more of the book was seeing how accurately the people inside the gates were portrayed. I gave way to shameful Schadenfreude as I watched the lives of the people in this privileged community being exploded in public. None of the people are easy to like but none of them are demons either. By the end of the book I felt sorry for most of them.

This is the kind of thriller that ITV or the BBC are good at turning into a four-part mini-series that will capture the attention of the nation. If they do make a TV version, I’ll certainly watch it.

One thing about the book that I don’t understand is why its title has been changed. When I bought it in 2019, it was called ‘Someone Is Lying’. That title works, allowing for the fact that almost everyone is lying about something. If you buy it today, it comes with the title ‘The Perfect Guests’. I have no idea why and I can’t see the link to the plot. Book marketing remains one of the mysteries of life. show less

🌟🌟🌟🌟1/2 STARS
The Foster Child By Jenny Blackhurst was one hell of a spooky book, having never read anything by this author before I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
I really didn't need to worry from the first page this story captured the reader building the atmosphere gradually and hooking its audience so subtly that before you knew it you were so emotionally invested in what was playing out before our rapt eyes.
So The Foster Child tells the story of Ellie Atkinson a foster show more child placed in the system after the death of her family in a house fire.
Along comes child psychologist Imogen Reid who upon returning to her childhood town after a big blip in her illustrious career inherits Ellie's case.
From day one on the job, it's apparent to Imogen that things in her old town are not right.
Everybody seems afraid of the quiet eerie eleven-year-old and Ellies only supporters are Her fifteen-year-old foster sister Mary and Imogen herself.
So, my god, this was creepy.
I actually found myself questioning everything I thought I believed.
You could feel the mass hysteria building as it was fueled by what people thought was real.
Taking on a life all of its own, like a snowball building its momentum.
Then BAM!!!!
everything came to a head and you were left feeling a trifle dim questioning yourself, did I really think that ?.
You as the reader have been swept along in the mass hysteria along with everyone else in this small community.
I loved this story, the characters were so real and interesting, this could be set in any small town around where I live.
The Foster Child was a fascinating insight into small-town dynamics and also a creepy atmospheric chiller.
Do you know what I liked best, it was how one young girl can start a rumour that actually takes on a life all of its own.
fuelling its own journey along the way.
Or did it!!! that twist at the end Man, didn't see that coming.
It left us the reader with a whole host of new questions to ask.
So I end this review in a bit of a quandary.
What do I actually take away from this as the truth, I think in this instance only Ellie is aware of the bigger picture she is the puppetmaster of this chilling tale.
That is the only reason I deducted 1/2 a star from this as I was left feeling slightly confused, wondering what to actually believe.
I would like to thank Netgalley, the publisher and the author for providing me with a free ARC of The Foster Child this is my own free and honest opinion.

Reviewed By Beckie Bookworm.
https://www.facebook.com/beckiebookworm/
www.beckiebookworm.com show less

-- What's it about? --

Susan Webster still doesn't remember anything about the day she murdered her twelve-week-old son, Dylan, by smothering him with a cushion. Informed of her guilt by her husband, the police, the doctor and finally the courts, she's spent three years incarcerated in a psychiatric institution and has gradually been taught to accept responsibility for her crime.

Then, within weeks of her release, and despite changing her name to Emma Cartwright, she's stunned to receive a show more photograph of a smiling toddler called Dylan. Instantly, Susan is questioning everything and everyone involved in Dylan's death and her subsequent arrest. After all, if she doesn't remember killing him, how can she be sure he's really dead? And if he's alive, she needs to get him back.

Determined to discover the truth, Susan seeks help from trusted friend (and fellow former inmate), Cassie, and an attractive reporter who appears out of the blue. But if people lied to her before, how can she uncover the truth now? And what might someone be prepared to do to stop her?

-- What's it like? --

Intriguing. Disturbing. Dramatic.

I loved the central concept and my desire to uncover the truth, though obviously not comparable to Susan's, kept me strongly motivated throughout. This is a book I read in a few days, whenever I had a spare moment, and so I definitely found it compelling.

It's not perfect: Susan's ready acceptance of help from an unknown journalist seemed implausible, as did their insta-romance. (She's spent three years in what's meant to be a tough institution and, while I appreciate she had the more dangerous Cassie protecting her the whole time, she appears to have no difficulties trusting complete strangers.) Similarly, the ultimate explanation behind the photo that causes Susan to start searching felt unconvincing, although I'm not sure what else I might have expected that person to do. (Realistically, nothing at all, which would have meant no story at all!)

What did convince me was Susan's impulsive investigation, based on a couple of odd photographs that could very easily have been nothing more than a hoax designed to punish a baby-killer. Given Susan's lack of memory of events, it's easy to believe she would be desperate to cling onto any possible alternative explanation. It's not surprising that someone would be desperate to believe that the worst thing they ever did was, in fact, not true, especially if it meant their child was still living. Blackhurst includes sufficient hints throughout the story that some details about the event are slightly off-kilter, meaning we trust Susan and expect there to be something to discover, though the rather melodramatic finale may still prove unexpected!

-- Final thoughts --

Alongside Susan's story we are treated to italicised chapters focusing on a group of adolescent boys led by a particularly unpleasant and increasingly powerful individual. The content gradually becomes more and more disturbing, although it is completely unclear how the events told in these extracts can possibly relate to Susan's story until very near the end. Everything is threaded together by the closing pages, which I really liked.

The main driving force in this psychological thriller is the central mystery; if you want to understand how and why Susan lost her son, then you'll likely find this gripping. Be prepared to suspend your disbelief, accept some melodrama and enjoy the puzzle. show less

When is a patient not a patient?
When they have no desire to get better, and every intention of causing you harm…

This is Blackhurst’s second novel; it’s a psychological thriller and promises to spin a tense tale of manipulation and madness.

-- What’s it about? --

Karen is a psychiatrist. She fixes people. That’s what she does, professionally and for her friends.

But when Jessica Hamilton arrives in her life and insists, “You can’t fix me”, Karen struggles to maintain her show more professional persona. Jessica knows things about Karen, about Karen’s friends.
Soon, Karen’s friends are in danger, but they’re refusing to listen to her warnings. How will Karen keep them safe if they won’t accept that they’re at risk?

-- What’s it like? --

Instantly intriguing. The story opens on a therapy session and, contrary to our expectations, it’s Karen receiving the therapy. Why? What happened? And exactly what has an incident that happened when she was four got to do with her new patient, Jessica Hamilton? These snippets of therapy sessions recur throughout the book and gradually your perspective on them changes. (As soon as I reached the end I went back and read them all with a clearer understanding. It’s impressive that these work so well in their initial context but also hold up under the scrutiny of rereading.)

Next we join Karen as she meets Jessica and is almost instantly unsettled by her. Jessica seems to know exactly what to say to put Karen on edge, and as we learn more about Karen’s life we see why. Karen has secrets that she doesn’t even tell her best friends, Bea and Eleanor, and as the story progresses we see her start to unravel, even as she tries to help her friends.

‘She hadn’t had the dream for three days.’

Blackhurst makes effective use of multiple narrative viewpoints to help build a compelling story where danger seems imminent but the readers’ uncertainty over the true source of the danger grows until a startling event occurs. This event is abrupt and came as a shock to me, despite the warning signs previously, but Blackhurst clearly wants to focus our attention on the consequences of this event rather than the initial discovery.

The genius of the narrative is the mixture of unsettling detail mixed with mundane domesticity. Eleanor, getting to grips with a new baby, talks nappies and breastmilk, school runs and birthday parties, but it transpires that even the school run can be used to engender fear and provoke madness.

Similarly, childfree singleton Bea presents a carefree facade to the outside world as she jokes about dating and her career, but an incident in her past has been keeping her hostage, and now someone is determined to remind her of it, using familiar tools as potent weapons.

‘Obsession. It starts slowly, like a train pulling out of a station.’

Alongside the third person narration and therapy snippets, Blackhurst introduces an unnamed first person narrator. These short chapters introduce an extra frisson of tension as the obsessive protagonist reveals the extent of their disordered mind and implies the lengths they will go to. Just like the therapy snippets, I felt compelled to reread these after completing the story and they were even more fascinating in light of the story’s conclusion.

There are some ambiguities around the ending (to the extent that I’m not completely clear about whether one character lives or dies!) but I loved the direction Blackhurst takes her characters in and felt that everything ultimately made sense from a psychological and a practical perspective.

-- Final thoughts --

This is a cleverly developed tale of obsession and manipulation, crafted in a way that ensures you always have your doubts but can’t be certain until the dramatic finale.

There are a few minor niggles (why does the denouement take place where it does? The setting holds significant meaning for one of the characters…but not for the one who drove there) but overall this is an assured handling of a complex narrative with fully realised and flawed characters.

Being a realist, I also appreciated the harshness of some of the realities uncovered in the final few chapters. Life can be brutal, and death is no respecter of misunderstandings.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. show less