Murderino readers will be intrigued by the title. Could this be a great beach read? The first half of the novel had potential— but then it took a bizarre turn, and never recovered. It felt like the author had an idea she couldn’t shake, and didn’t have an honest friend to talk her out of it. Too bad, because it turned an okay novel into remainder fodder.

Julie Chan is one of a pair of identical twins. When the girls are four, their parents are killed in a car crash; her sister Chloe is adopted by the wealthy Van Huusen couple, while Julie is relegated to her aunt, a nasty, demeaning woman who makes bank on Julie’s back at every turn. Chloe has every opportunity in life, except for genuine love and caring. Leveraging her advantages into a career as a social media influencer, she even takes advantage of Julie, gifting her a house while videoing the giving for more followers and likes. Working as a cashier at the local grocery store, Julie just cannot see a way forward in life.

When Julie receives a strange, breathy call from Chloe— a dying message?—expressing her regrets, Julie goes to Chloe’s New York City apartment to see if she is alright. She finds Chloe dead, from an overdose, when a crazy idea comes to her— why not “kill” Julie, and step into Chloe’s life? How hard could that be, since she’s been following Chloe and the various other major influencers since she was a teen? I could buy into the plot for a bit longer, watching Julie step into this role, using her wits to pull off the deception. It was the second half of the novel that lost me. I don’t want to spoil this for you, but I will simply say— freaky religious cult of beautiful female influencers led by a New World Order-ish family of worldwide authority— did you see that coming? No, me neither. Could Zhang possibly land this plane in a satisfying way? Nope.

This novel had a similar feel to the big summer read of two years ago, Yellowface, by R.F. Kuang (https://www.margueritereads.com/home/yellowface-by-r-f-kuang?rq=yellowface). Kuang had some difficulty with a satisfying ending, too. This one feels ill-conceived, slapstick, but not in a good way, more fatuous. I could smell an odor of authorial desperation. What had the possibility of being an interesting parody of the social media landscape, ridiculing the bland, redundant, yet addicting qualities, the superficial obsessions, the sheer waste of people’s time for others’ absurd gains, instead became a facile, preposterous resolution. A big opportunity was missed here— almost like Zhang did not have a reader friend to tell her the honest truth, your plot is going the wrong way, you’re losing what could be an interesting, amusing commentary. No, she chose otherwise.

The crowning blow was the cheap, rude throw-away line towards the end, slamming Catholic priests. Does a new author really need to insult 1.4 billion potential readers? No, she does not. This is a waste of your time, do not put this in the beach bag. Leave it on the library or bookstore shelf, to collect dust and be completely forgotten.