REVIEW: The Killed Conscience, Jordan Antonacci

Tuesday, 9 October 2018

Still at the beginning of her career, investigative journalist Emilee Weathers is desperate for the perfect story and doesn’t care how she has to get it. When she’s asked to assist in a convicted serial killer’s appeal, it almost seems the perfect story has come banging at her door. But not long after arriving to the mountain town of Pigeon Forge, Emilee discovers the body of another, more recent victim. With the body showing signatures of the already-convicted murderer, Emilee sets out to discover if she’s happened upon the work of a copycat, or if the real killer was ever even caught. The more she looks though, the murkier everything becomes. Police begin withholding information and the killer seems capable of going any length to protect his identity. On top of it all, when her investigations uncover the buried secrets of those closest to her, Emilee questions who it is she can and can’t trust in those mountains, if anyone at all. 

Oh, dear. I don’t even know where to begin with this one.
All I can say (and I am well aware of how harsh this will come across but honestly, there is no other way I can possibly say it and still maintain the honest-opinion-agreement I swore that I would always maintain when putting my bookish-thoughts on a public platform) is that The Killed Conscience is the book that I will soon be holding up as an example of the real lows that the mystery/thriller genre can reach.
I just— Right now, I feel like I can’t even.
Because, this book really hit the shit book trifecta. The writing was awful, like even-I-could-write-better-awful, choppy and stilted and full of grammatical errors. The characterisation was so close to nonexistent that they felt like set-pieces that could be knocked over with a moderately strong gust of wind. And finally, (and possibly the most annoyingly although frankly, it is difficult to tell) the plot-points were absurd and the suspension of disbelief required to understand any of them was close to astronomical.
Frankly, not a single decision, or inclusion of any detail in the whole book made one iota of sense, and all I hope now is that The Killed Conscience will be a book that is soon wiped entirely from my memory.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

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