In pretty much every other Tana French novel I've read, there is something about the narrative and its brand of darkness that allows for enjoyment. There is that salacious, glittering violence, or the ivy-covered house, or the implausibility of a case that she works perfectly anyways. But this one is different. This is by far the darkest of these books, because it is raw and awful and bloody and devastating. Scorcher Kennedy is a complicated man - an often arrogant, angry, and snarky man - who has a traumatic past and a soft spot for his mentally ill sister. He is not likable in the way that Frank Mackey is despite his flaws, not charming like Cassie Maddox, and not benign like Stephen Moran. He makes this book difficult. French's brilliance, as someone else pointed out, is that each case in her books is matched to a detective that will be utterly psychologically destroyed by it, and this one is no exception. But this is probably the most explicit version of that device. The case is working Scorcher, not the other way around. There were moments where I dreaded getting back into the book, where I would take days-long breaks from it, because it is that bleak. But in typical Tana fashion, she had me hooked and I needed the eventual release the end would bring.