You’re on every book cover. You’re the same woman, with different hair. But I cannot relate to you, and neither can anyone else. You are annoying me. A lot. And so I write this open letter to you, 20-year-old faceless girl who does not represent either me or the characters who speak beneath your covers.
No matter how good a Grip-Lit book is, there are only so many psychological thrills we can stomach in a row. With the help of some tenuous and downright cheesy food metaphors, this week I’m asking you: what’s for dessert? What do you, the reader, want to read next? Shouldn’t we, the actual consumers have a say?
We all know what it’s like to have difficult flatmates. Insomniacs. Musicians. Drug Addicts. Botanists. When things get really sour, a fictional flatmate would be ideal. But what if you were to live with a modern grip-lit heroine from the likes of Girl On The Train, Gone Girl, or Before I Go To Sleep?