So this was an interesting read! I remember watching the old movie ages ago and when I saw the book in a charity pile, I decided to give it a go. Let me tell you, it will go back to the charity pile.

With the exception of two very well written sex scenes lasting the whole of 2 pages, the book had little to offer in terms of dialogue, build-up and tension.I keep wondering whether it’s because I’ve already seen the movie and I knew that the cold-hearted woman with the ice-pick, la femme fatale, was actually it.

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The Story

A detective, a female crime writer accused of murder and a woman police psychiatrist, the ex-lover of the detective, all feature in this sexual psychothriller. The male detective is caught between the two women who have a strange, uncanny connection. The concept behind is: if a writer describes a murder in detail in a book published a year before the actual murder happens – did she do it or not? Is it the perfect alibi or is someone trying to frame her – like maybe a jilted lover or a jealous connection?

Basic_Instinct-304930320-large.jpgThe detective is a definite bad-boy and he has been involved in a shooting before which resulted with the accidental death of some people. That’s why our chick calls him “Shooter”. While this clueless detective is trying to exonerate his new girlfriend, she whispers names and clues to him that eventually lead him back to his former girlfriend and PD psychiatrist (is there anyone in this guy’s professional environment he did not sleep with?)

Apparently his old gf had some “experimenting” years in college where she was in a lesbian relationship with the current suspect. It all degenerates into a she stalked me, no, she stalked me first! scenario where both women are accusing each other of copying styles and being obsessed with each other (do you remember Single White Female?).

In the end, the case is solved when the detective’s partner is shot, the psychologist chick is present and she can’t explain herself properly. She is shot down when she tries to hastily pull out her car keys (why would she do that in front of an armed detective pointing a gun at her?). Very conveniently they find a blonde wig and a trench coat containing an ice pick on the staircase. And loads of pictures of the original chick in her apartment indicating an unhealthy obsession which spanned across the years.

Our detective guy is happy with the outcome and goes on shagging this beautiful and rich girlfriend.

Nick thought only of that moment’s pleasure; his body’s need. He was completely, blissfully unaware of the thin, stel-handled ice pick which lay hidden under the bed.

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Conclusion:

Short read (200+ pages) but devoid of any real thrills or character development. Moral of the story: don’t stick your d&*k in crazy.

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