Book Review: Genuine Fraud
Aug. 27th, 2018 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerIMOGEN is a runaway heiress, an orphan, a cook, and a cheat.
JULE is a fighter, a social chameleon, and an athlete.
An intense friendship. A disappearance. A murder, or maybe two.
“How nice,” I thought, as I read this flap copy on E. Lockhart’s latest book, Genuine Fraud. “An E. Lockhart book where the female friends actually care about each other and their friendship is central to the plot. That will be a departure.”
HA! HA! HA!
This book is a rip-off of The Talented Mr. Ripley. Our protagonist, Jule, is a con artist who worms her way into Imogen Sokoloff’s life by pretending to be a former high school classmate, then beats her to death with a paddle on a boat (yes, Lockhart stole the scene entire) and steals her identity in order to make a fake will in which Imogen leaves all her money to Jule.
Oh, and she also murders one of Imogen’s other friends, Brooke, when Brooke becomes suspicious of Jule. It is notable that, although Jule alludes to one time beating up a rapist, the only people she actually murders on page are innocent teenage girls.
Jule likes to compare herself to the “great white male hetero hero,” James Bond, Jason Bourne, Batman, without apparently realizing that the reason she is disqualified from this category is not that she is female (like, hello? Wonder Woman is a thing) but that she is not a hero. Heroes use their power to help and protect others while Jule uses her power (she doesn’t have superpowers; she just works out a lot) to hurt innocent people for her own personal gain.
Batman doesn’t become Batman by murdering the real Bruce Wayne and stealing his identity and his money and then lolling around on the beach in between faking the real Bruce’s suicide and murdering his friends when they get suspicious, which is what Jule does once she’s got her paws on Imogen’s millions.
Now, to be fair, Jule doesn’t cold-bloodedly murder Imogen to steal her money. She kills her in a fit of rage because Imogen says some hurtful (totally true! More true than Imogen knows! But hurtful) things about how Jule’s not a very good friend, and then steals her identity as an afterthought. But still. Murder is not heroic, and Jule does nothing heroic with the money once she’s got it.
She’s a criminal, and not a very sympathetic one: there’s no Robin Hood about her. But the book seems to expect us to root for her: it ends with Jule escaping her pursuers and overhearing a conversation in which she discovers the police have come to the baffling conclusion that Imogen murdered Jule and stole her identity.
This makes no sense. In fact, Jule’s entire story ought to unravel almost the instant that the police start treating Imogen’s disappearance as a missing persons case rather than a suicide. They would look into her background - she is, after all, the girl who found the “suicide note,” which must have been faked if Imogen didn’t commit suicide - and her entire story would evaporate into smoke.
Jule got into this identity theft gig on a whim after Imogen’s mother mistook her for one of Imogen’s old classmates - only Mrs. Sokoloff didn’t remember the classmate’s name, so they all know Jule by her real name. A single call to Imogen’s high school would establish that Jule never went there, and Jule’s entire house of cards would fall apart in that moment.
She’s not who she says she is, and she’s the one who found - who must have forged - the suicide note, and she just inherited Imogen’s entire fortune? Well, she’s going to be suspect number one in this missing person’s case.
And once the police start digging, it will soon become clear that - although “Imogen” has sent emails and texts - no one who could identify her has actually seen or spoken to her since she and Jule took a trip to Culebra. And given that Imogen has been firmly established as the kind of person who chats up the hotel staff, they may remember the exact day that she disappeared.
In short, the only way the ending makes sense is if both the writer and the reader are just so in love with Jule that they really really want her to get away with it. And no. Why would I would have to get away with any of this? She murdered two girls, one in cold blood, for no better reason than personal gain. Lock her up and throw away the fucking key, I say.
What particularly pisses me off is that the book’s dedication is “For anyone who has been taught that good equals small and silent, here is my heart with all its ugly tangles and splendid fury.” Lockhart doesn’t seem to realize that it matters what you are splendidly furious about, and what you do with that fury. Murdering an innocent person in a fit of rage doesn’t make a character a feminist hero.
JULE is a fighter, a social chameleon, and an athlete.
An intense friendship. A disappearance. A murder, or maybe two.
“How nice,” I thought, as I read this flap copy on E. Lockhart’s latest book, Genuine Fraud. “An E. Lockhart book where the female friends actually care about each other and their friendship is central to the plot. That will be a departure.”
HA! HA! HA!
This book is a rip-off of The Talented Mr. Ripley. Our protagonist, Jule, is a con artist who worms her way into Imogen Sokoloff’s life by pretending to be a former high school classmate, then beats her to death with a paddle on a boat (yes, Lockhart stole the scene entire) and steals her identity in order to make a fake will in which Imogen leaves all her money to Jule.
Oh, and she also murders one of Imogen’s other friends, Brooke, when Brooke becomes suspicious of Jule. It is notable that, although Jule alludes to one time beating up a rapist, the only people she actually murders on page are innocent teenage girls.
Jule likes to compare herself to the “great white male hetero hero,” James Bond, Jason Bourne, Batman, without apparently realizing that the reason she is disqualified from this category is not that she is female (like, hello? Wonder Woman is a thing) but that she is not a hero. Heroes use their power to help and protect others while Jule uses her power (she doesn’t have superpowers; she just works out a lot) to hurt innocent people for her own personal gain.
Batman doesn’t become Batman by murdering the real Bruce Wayne and stealing his identity and his money and then lolling around on the beach in between faking the real Bruce’s suicide and murdering his friends when they get suspicious, which is what Jule does once she’s got her paws on Imogen’s millions.
Now, to be fair, Jule doesn’t cold-bloodedly murder Imogen to steal her money. She kills her in a fit of rage because Imogen says some hurtful (totally true! More true than Imogen knows! But hurtful) things about how Jule’s not a very good friend, and then steals her identity as an afterthought. But still. Murder is not heroic, and Jule does nothing heroic with the money once she’s got it.
She’s a criminal, and not a very sympathetic one: there’s no Robin Hood about her. But the book seems to expect us to root for her: it ends with Jule escaping her pursuers and overhearing a conversation in which she discovers the police have come to the baffling conclusion that Imogen murdered Jule and stole her identity.
This makes no sense. In fact, Jule’s entire story ought to unravel almost the instant that the police start treating Imogen’s disappearance as a missing persons case rather than a suicide. They would look into her background - she is, after all, the girl who found the “suicide note,” which must have been faked if Imogen didn’t commit suicide - and her entire story would evaporate into smoke.
Jule got into this identity theft gig on a whim after Imogen’s mother mistook her for one of Imogen’s old classmates - only Mrs. Sokoloff didn’t remember the classmate’s name, so they all know Jule by her real name. A single call to Imogen’s high school would establish that Jule never went there, and Jule’s entire house of cards would fall apart in that moment.
She’s not who she says she is, and she’s the one who found - who must have forged - the suicide note, and she just inherited Imogen’s entire fortune? Well, she’s going to be suspect number one in this missing person’s case.
And once the police start digging, it will soon become clear that - although “Imogen” has sent emails and texts - no one who could identify her has actually seen or spoken to her since she and Jule took a trip to Culebra. And given that Imogen has been firmly established as the kind of person who chats up the hotel staff, they may remember the exact day that she disappeared.
In short, the only way the ending makes sense is if both the writer and the reader are just so in love with Jule that they really really want her to get away with it. And no. Why would I would have to get away with any of this? She murdered two girls, one in cold blood, for no better reason than personal gain. Lock her up and throw away the fucking key, I say.
What particularly pisses me off is that the book’s dedication is “For anyone who has been taught that good equals small and silent, here is my heart with all its ugly tangles and splendid fury.” Lockhart doesn’t seem to realize that it matters what you are splendidly furious about, and what you do with that fury. Murdering an innocent person in a fit of rage doesn’t make a character a feminist hero.
