In Malice, Quite Close

By Brandi Lynn Ryder

From the book jacket:

When Tristan Mourault—expatriate aesthete and heir to a world-renowned collection of Impressionist masterpieces—catches sight of young Karen Miller during a trip to San Francisco, he knows he must have her. Convincing himself that she deserves more than the frayed, middlebrow life she was born into, he sets in motion a campaign of flattery, enchantment, and romance that sweeps Karen off her feet. First, he stages her disappearance. Then, her transformation. Karen, the ordinary fifteen-year-old girl, becomes Gisèle—Tristan’s daughter by day, his lover by night, and the crowning achievement of his lifelong quest for beauty and perfection.

Just my opinion:

This book could only be described as eerie. It’s outright spine-chilling, with its sinister and disturbing theme. Not for the weak at heart, this book is very vivid as it takes the reader in a different kind of world where the rich are capable of getting exactly what they desire, regardless of the consequences to others. Absolutely fascinating, the story delves into the minds of the mentally disturbed, as well as the frightening effects of sexual perversions.

The story revolves around adult Tristan Mourault, who has a serious attraction for teen Karen Miller, who is sexually abused by her father. Tristan is attracted to Karen and begins stalking her, learning about her family life and her desperate need to escape. He then works his way into her heart, earning her trust and convincing her to come with him to the other side of the country. He stages her death so the authorities won’t look for her.

However, her younger sister is never convinced that she died and works with the local police force to continue investigating her disappearance.

If you enjoy thrillers, In Malice, Quite Close is definitely a book for you. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Some favorite passages from the book:

She was at that transcendent age: old enough to sense her power and too innocent to use it.

Obsession, you see, requires neither audacity nor courage, but only servitude.

This is how she was. Bright as a diamond that catches your eye in a window full of other jewels.

Things come to a meaningful end in books, but in life things are just things. Disconnected things. And everyone pretends to have control.

Love is life’s greatest hoax, my sweet. There is no love between men and women, because there is no understanding. There is only delusion.

All stories must come to a finite end. That is their beauty.