I seem to be cursed with the irrational need to finish every novel I start, even when it becomes an absolute slog.

Why I insist on torturing myself, I’ll never know. Perhaps it’s the optimist in me whispering, “It might get better.” Spoiler alert, it usually doesn’t.

Beautiful Ugly by Alice Feeney was one of those slow burns I wish I’d tossed into the fireplace before page one. Feeney is a talented and well-established author, this is her seventh novel, so I went in expecting far better.

The story follows the thoroughly miserable Grady Green, a once-successful author whose life has been in free fall since his journalist wife vanished a year earlier. When his publisher sends him to a remote Scottish island in hopes of jump-starting his creativity, things quickly take a strange turn. Unfortunately, Grady spends much of the novel moping and the narrative sinks into a repetitive gloom that becomes downright tedious.

The much-anticipated twist at the end feels forced and certainly not worth trudging through the rest of the book to reach. To make matters worse, two sexually explicit abuse scenes are thrown in without adding anything meaningful to the story.

I found them jarringly unnecessary. I hate being ambushed by disturbing content and I wish books were labelled with warnings the way films are.

In short, this is one slow burn that never ignites.

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