Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Don’t worry, it’s a rhetorical question, there’s no need to tell me if you are. Are You Afraid of the Dark? is the story of two women whose scientist husbands are murdered as part of a cover-up over their latest project and go on the run to solve the mystery behind what their husbands were working on and why the company wants them dead.

The book is at its best early on when the events are somewhat grounded in reality. There are flashbacks to how Diane and Kelly met their husbands, and how they came to fall in love with their respective spouses, which are quite pleasant and generate the warm fuzzies. Kelly’s story in particular sees Mark’s devotion to her and being the first man to value her beyond her physical appearance and career as a famous model thawing the frosty exterior she puts up after her traumatic childhood. The biggest complaint is that the weddings happen within a few weeks of the groom proposing, which is a rather unrealistic timeframe given that these were elaborate ceremonies with guests and catering, not a quiet visit to the registry office. In hindsight, this nitpick ended up being a warning sign towards what would happen later.

Unfortunately, after a promising start, the book eventually takes a turn for the farfetched and repetitive. The evil corporation’s machinations start somewhat plausible (phoning the undertakers and changing the planned funerals to cremations works for both shock value and dramatic heft, even if it does raise questions about why the undertakers didn’t verify the change of plan with the widows beforehand, as they had made plans earlier that day), but as the book goes on, the organisation turns into a combination of the Illuminati, HYDRA and Big Brother, with highly advanced top-secret technology out the wazoo, offering worldwide surveillance, voice transformation, links to every computer database in the world and a partridge in a pear tree. I’m not going to spoil what the murdered scientists were working on, but it is both the most elaborate invention yet, and at the same time, not loopy enough. Given how much cloak and dagger there was about it, and nary a hint of foreshadowing, I was thinking completely out there, along the lines of time travel, reincarnation, or teleportation.

The main antagonist, corrupt corporate executive Tanner Kingsley, is seemingly evil for the sake of it. He has no motivation to do what he does, and his only goal is fuelled by greed. It's quite easy to imagine him in a Saturday morning cartoon, cackling loudly as he says in a nasally Skeletor voice "This time, I shall catch those meddling women and my evil plan can continue unopposed!" I’m surprised that there isn’t a chapter in which he kicks a puppy or fills in the paperwork to adopt an orphan, then doesn’t show up to collect them. Maybe they were in earlier drafts? Kingsley also has an array of hardened sociopathic killers he’s drawn from the prison system who are built up as a threat, only to be repeatedly thwarted by the same tricks, either the protagonists asking someone else to get rid of them, or pretending to talk on the phone or to strangers. It’s only slightly above saying “Look over there!” in terms of complexity, and yet they keep falling for it. They make the burglars from Home Alone look intimidating. It’s telling that of all Kingsley’s henchmen, the most competent is his brother Andrew, who has brain damage from a laboratory accident and never interacts with anyone besides Kingsley or even does anything villainous. Sometimes, the protagonists outwit their tormentors in a way that is clever and natural, such as Kelly suspecting a bomb when she notices a maid wearing shoes that shouldn’t be affordable on a maid’s salary, which Kelly would know through her work. More frequent are instances of repetition, or deus ex machinas, including one particularly glaring example about ¾ of the way through.

The ending is also rather unsatisfying, since it wraps itself up in about 15-20 pages, which is very quick considering how much time had been spent treading water on the game of cat and mouse. Tanner Kingsley’s downfall is anti-climactic, partly because Diane and Kelly aren’t the ones to do it, partly because it’s left vague whether or not the one responsible does it knowingly, aware of their actions or if it’s another happy accident, and most grievously because Diane and Kelly don’t have any involvement elsewhere in the meantime – they simply drop out while the story resolves itself.

On the plus side, there are some clichés the book wisely decides to stay away from. Tanner Kingsley is clearly the antagonist throughout, and does not start as a benevolent mentor. It isn’t the fact that he’s an asshole that is intended as a surprise, but how much of an asshole he is. As for the actual benevolent mentor character, she is a part of Kelly’s backstory, giving her the first push to help Kelly improve her self-confidence and realise her potential, with no role in the present day plot, and her desire to help Kelly is completely selfless, not a roundabout way of getting rich or a part of a greater scheme.

The first half of this book offers a study of the grief of losing a loved one and learning to cope and move on with life, with reminiscences about the good times shared together with occasional touching moments. I would recommend stopping there so that your opinion isn’t tarnished by the derivative second half. To answer the question posed earlier, even though it’s a rhetorical question, I’m not afraid of the dark, but I am afraid of Dan Brown wannabes like this book. Dan Brown’s books aren’t even that good once you notice the formula!

Wait a minute. The author of this book is called Sidney Sheldon. He tries to follow the Dan Brown Formula. Sheldon… Formula… Egads, I think I’m on to something!