The Girl She Used to Be

David Cristofano's debut novel The Girl She Used to Be had me salivating over the prospect of spending hours tucked away reading a cozy, riveting tale of intrigue and suspense. The basic premise involves a girl who has lost her true identity after witnessing a horrific crime in early childhood (enter WITSEC), and her surprising encounter with a man who is a member of the mafioso family responsible.

It seemed an interesting twist, the girl's fascination with her would-be assassin, especially coupled with the journey she would undertake to find herself in the process. Sigh. So it seemed.

I have the habit of reading the first page of a book to determine whether or not the author's writing style is to my taste. Generally, while the actual subject matter may be disappointing, the first page is nevertheless a good gauge for the style. I read the first page of this book and found it to my liking, and so made the purchase. On page 2, however, the writer switched to the first-person, present-tense. I hate that. It's just my opinion, but it seems almost infantile, and negates the possibility of rich verbal expression. It's like back to pre-K, where "see Spot run" and "Jill likes cats" were the norm.

I plowed on, however, in hopes that in spite of the writer's distasteful style the story would still be pleasing. Unfortunately, the stylistic lack of imagination was a mere precursor to an overall lack of imagination. The main character was immensely unlikeable, and, while her condition could have been pitiable, she wasn't engaging and I didn't really care what happened to her. Reading became tedious, and ridiculous, and by the story's end I was so bored that I didn't even care that I was disappointed.

I would not recommend this book to anyone.

Without a doubt, The Girl She Used to Be is a honeysuckle at its best.