Thrillers & Suspense
![Clare Mackintosh - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B00LGMXWKG.jpg)
I Let You Go
THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
One of The New York Times Book Review's 10 Best Crime Novels of 2016!
Now in paperback-the next blockbuster thriller for those who loved The Girl on the Train and Gone Girl... "a finely-crafted novel with a killer twist" (#1 New York Times bestselling author Paula Hawkins).
On a rainy afternoon, a mother's life is shattered as her son slips from her grip and runs into the street...
I Let You Go follows Jenna Gray as she moves to a ramshackle cottage on the remote Welsh coast, trying to escape the memory of the car accident that plays again and again in her mind and desperate to heal from the loss of her child and the rest of her painful past.
At the same time, the novel tracks the pair of Bristol police investigators trying to get to the bottom of this hit-and-run. As they chase down one hopeless lead after another, they find themselves as drawn to each other as they are to the frustrating, twist-filled case before them.
One of The New York Times Book Review's 10 Best Crime Novels of 2016!
Now in paperback-the next blockbuster thriller for those who loved The Girl on the Train and Gone Girl... "a finely-crafted novel with a killer twist" (#1 New York Times bestselling author Paula Hawkins).
On a rainy afternoon, a mother's life is shattered as her son slips from her grip and runs into the street...
I Let You Go follows Jenna Gray as she moves to a ramshackle cottage on the remote Welsh coast, trying to escape the memory of the car accident that plays again and again in her mind and desperate to heal from the loss of her child and the rest of her painful past.
At the same time, the novel tracks the pair of Bristol police investigators trying to get to the bottom of this hit-and-run. As they chase down one hopeless lead after another, they find themselves as drawn to each other as they are to the frustrating, twist-filled case before them.
Editorial Reviews
Praise for I Let You Go
"Chilling, compelling, and compassionate."-Paula Hawkins, #1 New York Timesbestselling author of The Girl on the Train
"Astonishingly good."-Lee Child, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of Make Me
"Genuinely shocking...[A] cunning psychological thriller."-Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review
‘"On the level of the movie The Sixth Sense for its cleverness...This kind of sharp, cunning writing makes one eagerly look forward to Mackintosh's next novel."-Shelf Awareness
"An intense psychological thriller…[that] revels in surprises and twists…Outstanding."-The Associated Press
"You'll be shocked by the twist in the middle of I Let You Go-just don't spoil it for everyone else!"-PopSugar
"Thrilling...a tense psychological thriller."-Real Simple
"Jaw-dropping...the kind of book that sticks in the reader's mind well after the final sentence."-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"A wonderfully layered thriller that skillfully builds from that one tragic event. It makes a good match for fans of Sophie Hannah and Erin Kelly."-Library Journal (starred review)
"Mind-bending."-Booklist
"Addictive...one thrill after another."-Samantha Hayes, author of In Too Deep
"Chilling, compelling, and compassionate."-Paula Hawkins, #1 New York Timesbestselling author of The Girl on the Train
"Astonishingly good."-Lee Child, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of Make Me
"Genuinely shocking...[A] cunning psychological thriller."-Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review
‘"On the level of the movie The Sixth Sense for its cleverness...This kind of sharp, cunning writing makes one eagerly look forward to Mackintosh's next novel."-Shelf Awareness
"An intense psychological thriller…[that] revels in surprises and twists…Outstanding."-The Associated Press
"You'll be shocked by the twist in the middle of I Let You Go-just don't spoil it for everyone else!"-PopSugar
"Thrilling...a tense psychological thriller."-Real Simple
"Jaw-dropping...the kind of book that sticks in the reader's mind well after the final sentence."-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"A wonderfully layered thriller that skillfully builds from that one tragic event. It makes a good match for fans of Sophie Hannah and Erin Kelly."-Library Journal (starred review)
"Mind-bending."-Booklist
"Addictive...one thrill after another."-Samantha Hayes, author of In Too Deep
Readers Top Reviews
Cad
The three stars are a little generous. It was an ok read but no more. The characters, all of them, were pretty shallow and unbelievable and the plot so predictable. Yes there was a surprising twist part way through but the ending was obvious from a long way out. The attitude of the main character was a little silly, almost ridiculous and it is hard to believe that anyone would take this course of action in real life. But then ok this is a novel and there has to be some poetic licence. The relationships are extremely cliched and therefore not particularly interesting. What bugs me most of all though, and what makes the story so unbelievable, is the character of the villain. Why oh why is it that the baddy so often has no redeeming features at all? Utterly evil. Utterly unbelievable. Utterly unrealistic. I was interested enough to make it to the end although the ending was entirely predictable. In an attempt to be fair, I have read much worse books hence the three stars, but this was not in my opinion up there with the best.
Carrie HynesCarl
*Possible Spoilers* The market has been drenched with books that promise you a twist you'll never see coming yet often leave you wondering what it was! The 'twist' in this one is evident from the word go and you're well aware of whose viewpoint you're reading from. However, if you take that away and just follow the plot you'll find decently written characters whose development you're genuinely interested in. I liked the fact that the 'baddie', who we're introduced to later, is in the first person too which provides for a well-written dark and twisty insight into a character, who is paramount to the story. Some cliches make you groan. But they're realistic all the same. There's no need for the final 'twist'. Its far too neat and, in my view, the baddie was already so vile that it would have had more impact if there had been no link between them and the victim. This character needs no reason to behave the way they do. Overall, a good effort with some great moments, sadly let down by the promise of a shattering revelation that doesn't deliver.
Preston LeighdpdE
I Let You Go is the name of the book, yet it is also what I did with the book, on multiple occasions. I let it go. I picked it up, thought about buying it, and then decided on another book. I did this at least four times. The first time I did it was the day that I bought Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel, which turned out to be my Book Of The Year. But the other week I decided that I wanted to give I Let You Go a shot. What made me pick up the book in the first place was the cover. The cover is a little dark and has a beach scene with the title written across the front. It looks as if a storm or some kind of trouble is on the way. As you read the story you will learn something about a main character that really makes the cover make sense. The cover artist did a great job creating a cover that actually has something to do with the story. The book is told from the point of view of three characters. The book is also broken up into two parts. I cannot tell you how it is broken up in two parts without giving any spoilers so I won’t. But there is a Part One and a Part Two. Part One is told between two of the characters, Jenna Gray and DI Ray Stevens. In Part One, Jenna Gray is trying to put her life back together after the accident. We follow her journey as she tries to start a new life for herself. All the while, DI Ray Stevens is trying to solve the case. Then Clare Mackintosh completely threw my world at the end of Part One, a twist I did not see coming. The twist had me so excited for Part Two. I actually continued into Part Two without stopping. I had to know what happened. As I said, the twist really surprised me and had me loving Mackintosh’s writing style. Her next book, I See You, is scheduled to come out on February 21, 2017, in the United States Of America. I knew that I could not wait that long after reading the twist she threw in. I then went to the UK Amazon site and ordered I See You because it is available over there right now. Clare Mackintosh had me loving the thriller/mystery genre again. I have not read many thrillers/mysteries as of late. There have been a few, but not many. I used to be a huge fan of James Patterson, but he puts out so many books it became hard to follow. Then I discovered Sci-Fi and have been reading a lot of that. Part Two of the novel is almost at the halfway point; according to my Kindle it is at the 45% point. Here we get introduced to a third character, Ian Petersen. I cannot tell you about him without giving the story away. This part is also the downfall of the book, I feel like I should say “in my opinion,” even though that is what a review is. Not too far into Part Two, I had I Let You Go figured out. I should say, I knew who killed the boy and what would happen to the character, but I didn’t know how Mackintosh would get us there. When I...
Short Excerpt Teaser
***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof***
Copyright © 2016 Clare Mackintosh
PROLOGUE
The wind flicks wet hair across her face, and she screws up her eyes against the rain. Weather like this makes everyone hurry; scurrying past on slippery pavements with chins buried into collars. Passing cars send spray over their shoes; the noise from the traffic making it impossible for her to hear more than a few words of the chattering update that began the moment the school gates opened. The words burst from him without a break, mixed up and back to front in the excitement of this new world into which he is growing. She makes out something about a best friend; a project on space; a new teacher, and she looks down and smiles at his excitement, ignoring the cold that weaves its way through her scarf. The boy grins back and tips up his head to taste the rain; wet eyelashes forming dark clumps around his eyes.
"And I can write my name, Mummy!"
"You clever boy," she says, stopping to kiss him fiercely on his damp forehead. "Will you show me when you get home?"
They walk as quickly as five-year-old legs will allow, her free hand holding his bag, which bangs against her knees.
Nearly home.
Headlights glint on wet tarmac, the dazzle blinding them every few seconds. Waiting for a break in the traffic they duck across the busy road, and she tightens her grip on the small hand inside the soft woolen glove, so he has to run to keep up. Sodden leaves cling to the railings, their bright colors darkening to a dull brown.
They reach the quiet street where home lies just around the corner, its seductive warmth a welcome thought. Secure in the environs of her own neighborhood she lets go of his hand to push away the strands of wet hair from her eyes, laughing at the cascade of droplets it causes.
"There," she says, as they make the final turn. "I left the light on for us." Across the street, a redbrick house. Two bedrooms, the tiniest kitchen,
and a garden crammed with pots she always means to fill with flowers. Just the two of them.
"I'll race you, Mummy . . ."
He never stops moving; full of energy from the second he wakes until the moment his head hits the pillow. Always jumping, always running.
"Come on!"
It happens in a heartbeat; the feeling of space by her side as he runs toward home, seeking out the warmth of the hall, with its porch-light glow. Milk; biscuit; twenty minutes of television; fish-fingers for tea. The routine they have fallen into so quickly, barely halfway through that first term at school.
The car comes from nowhere. The squeal of wet brakes, the thud of a five- year-old boy hitting the windshield and the spin of his body before it slams onto the road. Running after him, in front of the still-moving car. Slipping and falling heavily onto outstretched hands, the impact taking her breath away.
It's over in a heartbeat.
She crouches beside him, searching frantically for a pulse. Watches her breath form a solitary white cloud in the air. Sees the dark shadow form beneath his head and hears her own wail as though it comes from someone else. She looks up at the blurred windshield, its wipers sending arcs of water into the darkening night, and she screams at the unseen driver to help her.
Leaning forward to warm the boy with her body, she holds her coat open over them both, its hem drinking surface water from the road. And as she kisses him and begs him to wake, the pool of yellow light that envelops them shrinks to a narrow beam; the car backs up the street. Engine whining in admonishment, the car makes two, three, four attempts to turn in the narrow street, scraping in its haste against one of the huge sycamore sentries lining the road.
And then it is dark.
Copyright © 2016 Clare Mackintosh
PROLOGUE
The wind flicks wet hair across her face, and she screws up her eyes against the rain. Weather like this makes everyone hurry; scurrying past on slippery pavements with chins buried into collars. Passing cars send spray over their shoes; the noise from the traffic making it impossible for her to hear more than a few words of the chattering update that began the moment the school gates opened. The words burst from him without a break, mixed up and back to front in the excitement of this new world into which he is growing. She makes out something about a best friend; a project on space; a new teacher, and she looks down and smiles at his excitement, ignoring the cold that weaves its way through her scarf. The boy grins back and tips up his head to taste the rain; wet eyelashes forming dark clumps around his eyes.
"And I can write my name, Mummy!"
"You clever boy," she says, stopping to kiss him fiercely on his damp forehead. "Will you show me when you get home?"
They walk as quickly as five-year-old legs will allow, her free hand holding his bag, which bangs against her knees.
Nearly home.
Headlights glint on wet tarmac, the dazzle blinding them every few seconds. Waiting for a break in the traffic they duck across the busy road, and she tightens her grip on the small hand inside the soft woolen glove, so he has to run to keep up. Sodden leaves cling to the railings, their bright colors darkening to a dull brown.
They reach the quiet street where home lies just around the corner, its seductive warmth a welcome thought. Secure in the environs of her own neighborhood she lets go of his hand to push away the strands of wet hair from her eyes, laughing at the cascade of droplets it causes.
"There," she says, as they make the final turn. "I left the light on for us." Across the street, a redbrick house. Two bedrooms, the tiniest kitchen,
and a garden crammed with pots she always means to fill with flowers. Just the two of them.
"I'll race you, Mummy . . ."
He never stops moving; full of energy from the second he wakes until the moment his head hits the pillow. Always jumping, always running.
"Come on!"
It happens in a heartbeat; the feeling of space by her side as he runs toward home, seeking out the warmth of the hall, with its porch-light glow. Milk; biscuit; twenty minutes of television; fish-fingers for tea. The routine they have fallen into so quickly, barely halfway through that first term at school.
The car comes from nowhere. The squeal of wet brakes, the thud of a five- year-old boy hitting the windshield and the spin of his body before it slams onto the road. Running after him, in front of the still-moving car. Slipping and falling heavily onto outstretched hands, the impact taking her breath away.
It's over in a heartbeat.
She crouches beside him, searching frantically for a pulse. Watches her breath form a solitary white cloud in the air. Sees the dark shadow form beneath his head and hears her own wail as though it comes from someone else. She looks up at the blurred windshield, its wipers sending arcs of water into the darkening night, and she screams at the unseen driver to help her.
Leaning forward to warm the boy with her body, she holds her coat open over them both, its hem drinking surface water from the road. And as she kisses him and begs him to wake, the pool of yellow light that envelops them shrinks to a narrow beam; the car backs up the street. Engine whining in admonishment, the car makes two, three, four attempts to turn in the narrow street, scraping in its haste against one of the huge sycamore sentries lining the road.
And then it is dark.
