The Death of Jane Lawrence

This is the most irritating kind of book: something that seems exactly suited to your tastes, has a strong start, and then becomes a hot mess. And you resent every successive flaw all the more because of all the squandered potential.

This, my friends, became a full-on Bitch Eating Crackers of a novel for me.

This starts out as a fun spin on the Gothic novel: our plucky-but-poorly-connected heroine is a socially awkward math nerd who arranges her own marriage by logically analyzing the local bachelor pool and selecting someone who might like a business arrangement of a marriage, rather than a love match. He jumps at the chance because he could use someone with a head for numbers and organization, and . . . any wife of his must never spend the night at Lindridge Hall!!!

Oh, I was so on board! And the (inevitable) first night that circumstances strand her there is suitably creepy and disturbing. Plus there were intimations that we were dealing with a Cosmic Horror angle that really intrigued me.

Alas, the contrivances begin to pile up quickly. The “reasons” why Jane “has to” spend more and more nights at the Hall are so silly they would make a good SNL skit sending up Gothic horror.

Even worse, the arc of the romance is all screwed up. IMHO, a Gothic tale involves a keen attraction, slowly undermined by steadily escalating reasons for doubt. In this book, there's early and ample evidence that he's a lying liar who lies, to the point that Jane's devotion makes no sense (other than It's in the Plot that she has to be driven to do certain things).

Without spoilers, here's an idea of what it's like:

Jane: Augustine, where did that priceless Ming vase in the parlor go?
Augustine: What? We never had a Ming vase. You must have dreamed it.

Jane: Oh, here is the receipt for the Ming vase from the auction house, and a photo of it in the parlor.
Augustine: Oh, right, I guess maybe we had one, but I never paid much attention to it.

Jane: The housekeeper said she helped you move the vase to a different corner three weeks ago.
Augustine: Now that you mention it, yes, I guess I did. I just . . . wanted to keep this as a surprise - I had it refurbished for your upcoming birthday!

Jane: Augustine, I just found the shattered remains of the Ming vase stuffed behind the couch cushions.
Augustine: Well, yes, I must make a clean breast of things and confess that I accidentally knocked it over last week. There, now you know my dark secret - I feel so relieved!

Old school friend of Augustine's, dropping by for no reason: He always hated that Ming vase.