The Fury by Alex Michaelides | Book Review

Synopsis

This is a tale of murder.

Or maybe that’s not quite true. At its heart, it’s a love story, isn’t it?

Lana Farrar is a reclusive ex–movie star and one of the most famous women in the world. Every year, she invites her closest friends to escape the English weather and spend Easter on her idyllic private Greek island.

I tell you this because you may think you know this story. You probably read about it at the time ― it caused a real stir in the tabloids, if you remember. It had all the necessary ingredients for a press a celebrity; a private island cut off by the wind…and a murder.

We found ourselves trapped there overnight. Our old friendships concealed hatred and a desire for revenge. What followed was a game of cat and mouse ― a battle of wits, full of twists and turns, building to an unforgettable climax. The night ended in violence and death, as one of us was found murdered.

But who am I?

My name is Elliot Chase, and I’m going to tell you a story unlike any you’ve ever heard.

Review

Though I’m not sure how to put it, “The Fury” was written in a way that I believe effectively captures the complexity of a person’s thinking.

If that makes sense, Alex Michaelides’s sophisticated storytelling style makes the reader feel as though they are living inside the heads of the characters.

I actually had to wait a few days to write this review since I find it difficult to articulate the experiences I had while reading the book. The narrative only made sense to me after I finished reading it and had some time to think about it. When I was finished reading it, I was immediately perplexed.

When I understand why a book has that title, it’s very appreciated. I suppose The Fury is a reference to the various mental states and how things can stack up like dominoes until a person becomes so overcome with rage that he is unable to think clearly.

The mystery of who carried out the crime kept me riveted. Up until the very end, I was tense. But when the truth about what had transpired was exposed, it was such a letdown. After all that anticipation, the revelation felt abrupt and somewhat anticlimactic.

Because I knew there would be a reference to characters from Alex’s earlier books, I was looking forward to the book’s last pages. I’m looking forward to what Alex has planned for his readers. His writing and character development are quite detailed. I have no idea how he does it. Sometimes I am so engrossed in his characters that I begin to think like them.

I’ll give it a 3.75 overall. Despite its merits, “The Silent Patient,” Michaelides’s debut novel, remains the benchmark for his exceptional storytelling.

Quotable Quotes

The friends we make when young are rarely the kind of people we seek out later in life. The length of time we have known them accords them a kind of nostalgia in our eyes, if you will; an indulgence; a “free pass” in our lives.

Do not despair at being different. For that very difference, initially such a source of shame, so humiliating, and painful, will one day become a badge of honor and pride.

“When we are young and afraid – when we are ashamed, and humiliated – something happens. Time stops. It freezes, in that moment. A version of us is trapped, at that age – forever.”

“Trapped where?” “Trapped here.” Marianna tapped the side of her head. “A frightened child is hiding in your mind – still unsafe; still unheard and unloved. And the sooner you get in touch with that child and learn to communicate with them, the more harmonious your life will be.”

An actress is a little bit more than a woman. An actor, a little bit less than a man.

In real life, things don’t work out quite as you planned.

I often think life is just a performance. None of this is real. It’s a pretense at reality, that’s all. Only when someone, or something, we love dies – do we wake up from the play – and see how artificial it all is – this constructed reality we inhabit.

We suddenly realize that life is in no way lasting, or permanent; no future exists – and nothing we do matters. And in desolation – we howl and scream and rail at the heavens, until, at some point, we do the inevitable: we eat, dress, and brush our teeth. We continue with the marionette –  like motions of life, however unhinged it feels to do so. Then, ever so slowly, the illusion takes over again – until we forget that we are actors in a play. Until the next tragedy strikes – to wake us up.

A frightened child is hiding inside your mind, still unsafe; still unhear and unloved.

Emotional betrayal is much worse than sexual infidelity. “Screw another woman, fine. But take her out for dinner, hold her hand, tell her your hopes and dreams – then you’ve screwed me.

He meant our true self only appears when there is no one to perform to – no audience, no applause. No expectation to be met. Playing serves no practical purpose, I suppose, and requires no reward. It is its own reward.

Rating: 3.75/5