Devi Nair
I picked up All Spooked Up hoping for a zany cozy mystery with a ghostly twist, but it felt more like slogging through a corporate memo. A policeman named Hannibal Watson should’ve been a playful nod, but instead it pulled me out every time I read it. That moment set the tone for much of my reading experience: clever ideas that never really found their footing. The murder body drops fairly early—about 10% in—but instead of diving into the mystery, the story stalls.
The bulk of the narrative is spent on the main character’s disbelief about her father’s ghost. She knows she’s seeing him… but also insists she can’t be seeing him… and then a therapist even advises her to “just accept it.” Meanwhile, she frequently comments on how wonderful her husband is, especially how supportive he was in quitting his job so they could run her late father’s struggling paint shop. Logically, I couldn’t help but wonder why both of them would abandon steady jobs to take on a barely-thriving business.
What surprised me was just how little sleuthing actually went on. Her father, once a sharp police detective, doesn’t contribute much beyond shrugs and cheap shots at his son-in-law. Laura, meanwhile, spends her energy sparring sarcastically with Hannibal Watson, flattening him into the butt of jokes rather than a functioning detective. Honestly, I didn’t understand what Watson had done to deserve being the butt of so many remarks, other than stand around looking frustrated.
The mystery’s resolution comes out of nowhere, with clues and connections conjured like a bad magic trick. It’s a slow crawl to a rushed, nonsensical end. The premise has undeniable charm: a haunted paint store, family legacy, and paranormal cozy energy. But the execution felt scattered, weighed down by skepticism circles and side-commentary rather than a satisfying mystery core. I finished this ARC out of obligation, but I’m not itching for the sequel.
Originally posted at viewsshewrites.wordpress.com.
I picked up All Spooked Up hoping for a zany cozy mystery with a ghostly twist, but it felt more like slogging through a corporate memo. A policeman named Hannibal Watson should’ve been a playful nod, but instead it pulled me out every time I read it. That moment set the tone for much of my reading experience: clever ideas that never really found their footing. The murder body drops fairly early—about 10% in—but instead of diving into the mystery, the story stalls.
The bulk of the narrative is spent on the main character’s disbelief about her father’s ghost. She knows she’s seeing him… but also insists she can’t be seeing him… and then a therapist even advises her to “just accept it.” Meanwhile, she frequently comments on how wonderful her husband is, especially how supportive he was in quitting his job so they could run her late father’s struggling paint shop. Logically, I couldn’t help but wonder why both of them would abandon steady jobs to take on a barely-thriving business.
What surprised me was just how little sleuthing actually went on. Her father, once a sharp police detective, doesn’t contribute much beyond shrugs and cheap shots at his son-in-law. Laura, meanwhile, spends her energy sparring sarcastically with Hannibal Watson, flattening him into the butt of jokes rather than a functioning detective. Honestly, I didn’t understand what Watson had done to deserve being the butt of so many remarks, other than stand around looking frustrated.
The mystery’s resolution comes out of nowhere, with clues and connections conjured like a bad magic trick. It’s a slow crawl to a rushed, nonsensical end. The premise has undeniable charm: a haunted paint store, family legacy, and paranormal cozy energy. But the execution felt scattered, weighed down by skepticism circles and side-commentary rather than a satisfying mystery core. I finished this ARC out of obligation, but I’m not itching for the sequel.
Originally posted at viewsshewrites.wordpress.com.