On paper L.S. Hilton's Maestra looks pretty good.
Sex, money, murder. It hits the trifecta. And listed under the genre of 'thriller' it had all the markings of my next favourite book.
Except it wasn't.
Despite its opulence and astute cultural and artistic knowledge, it felt tacky. Kind of like a bad horror movie.
Instead of building an intensifying suspense, the requisite 'pause for dramatic effect' was overlooked. All the 'aha!' moments that make thrillers so juicy had to be painfully spelled out. Also (spoiler alert) literally everyone dies.
That's not to say I didn't like Maestra, however. I read it all in one hit on a Saturday afternoon. But don't go expecting an intelligent, twisted, psychological thriller. You're better heading in raring for a trashy beach read that, yes, does hit the trifecta.
This review was originally published in Fashion Journal issue 155. You can read the full issue here.