This book is insidious and seductive. It begins (and largely remains) so placidly, so peacefully, that you never see what's coming. You are only given brief flashes of something dark to come, and even in those moments, Frances Jellico is quiet, vague. Many have described this book as "uneventful," and it is. But there is beauty in its quiet, dreadful calm, and an undercurrent of something poisonous running through its pages. When the final moments came, my mouth was quite literally hanging open - perhaps this has something to do with my not being a seasoned reader of thrillers, but nevertheless, I didn't see it coming. Fuller's prose is languid, mirroring the languorous summer of Cara, Peter, and Frances. It is often contradictory, full of sharply observed details, yet with a gauzy haze over each scene like something out of mid-century French film. I can't wait to read more of her books.