Gone by Leona Deakin

People are disappearing after receiving a birthday card daring them to play a game. Inside the card is stuck a URL which leads them to a website on the dark web, through which they access the game. They leave the card, minus the slip with the URL written on it, to be found by friends or relatives. One of those who go missing, Lana, is the mother of a teenage girl, Jane. Lana and Jane are family friends of an ex-MI6 officer, Marcus Jameson. He’s a business partner of Dr Augusta Bloom, a psychologist, and expert in psychopathy. Together they run a consultancy that helps the police, defence and prosecution lawyers, and victims of crime. 

Jameson and Bloom quickly discover that quite a few people have disappeared after receiving these cards. They also ascertain that this is the tip of an iceberg, that a large number of people have been drawn in. They all have characteristics in common and Bloom concludes that they are all psychopaths. In effect, somebody, or some organisation is recruiting psychopaths. But for what purpose? I don’t want to give too much of the plot away, but as the story unfolds there are hints that there is a powerful hand behind it all. The police investigation which Bloom and Jameson are collaborating with is hampered, allegations of misconduct from one of Bloom’s earlier cases are manufactured, and Jameson is knocked over in the street, all of which indicates that someone who has connections is trying to get in their way.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and will give it four stars, but there were three minor issues that galled me. Of course, it might be just my own background as a journalist that caused me to notice them and most readers probably won’t, but every book review is subjective, so I’ll mention them. But before I do, and because I enjoyed this book so much, I want to state the good. There are many novels that feature psychopaths and serial killers. Most of them just touch on the subject in a rather shallow way. I thought that this novel might do the same (see one of the issues I had with the narrative, below) but to be fair to the author it does much more than that. This novel really engages with what it means to be a psychopath. Within the trappings of a thriller, this novel expands much more on the general understanding of psychopathy that has filtered into the public consciousness and examines the various gradients of the condition: high-functioning vs low-functioning,  how some are more impulsive than others, how some excel at business and politics and might not commit crimes at all (though they will still manipulate and be cruel), while others can’t help but commit crimes. This is really thoughtful stuff and the author is to be applauded for weaving it through her narrative in an entertaining and fascinating way. It never becomes dry and boring but rather creates a very intelligent thriller and one that kept me turning the pages.

That all said, I need to address the things I didn’t like. In the first few chapters, Bloom and others regularly refer to the Blue Whale game. This is the alleged game that targeted vulnerable youngsters and groomed them to commit suicide. The reason for the continued mentions of this in the novel is so that readers will draw a parallel with the game targeting psychopaths. So, whereas the Blue Whale game persuaded vulnerable children to harm themselves, this game persuades psychopaths to commit harm to others. But the Blue Whale game has been proven to be an urban myth. While I understand one or two mentions of it to draw the parallel, when Bloom is meant to be a leading authority on the subject, I found her continued referral to it troublesome. 

The second issue was when Bloom lectured members of the police investigative team on the characteristics of a psychopath. She ran through the familiar litany of symptoms which has long filtered through to the lay public. This is a scene that is in innumerable books and movies, where the forensic psychologist or profiler tells the assorted cops how a psychopath feels no empathy, suffers no guilt, etc. The officers in the scene have all never heard this before and ask questions, expressing shock that such people exist. Really? In this day and age when there are so many books, films and tv series featuring psychopaths? Not to mention all the training they receive. When even the lay public is familiar with this stuff, it beggars belief that the police wouldn’t be. Again, I understand the reasons behind this scene. The author can't know for certain that her readers know this stuff (though as I say, the psychopath is such a familiar trope that I'd be really surprised if they don't) and so she needs to get this information across before delving deeper into the subject (which, as I mention, she does and with excellent results). But personally, I feel that she should have done it in a more nuanced way. If she is going to have her psychologist, Bloom, explain it all, at least have her not explain it to police officers who almost certainly would already know such information. 

Finally, there’s the ending where there’s the obligatory confession scene. This is a scene that plagues many a crime thriller, and to be fair to the author, it’s often difficult to not include it. In this novel, the main baddie has the heroes tied up and they ask their questions, after all, they might die anyway and they just have to know the answers, and the baddie outlines their ingenious scheme. As I say it’s a version of a scene that exists in a lot of novels and films and more often than not it feels false. Do people really confess like this? I don't know how to get around this scene other than to do it in a way that doesn't have the reader noticing it. I'm afraid I did notice it, the scene screamed "confession scene" to me, but then perhaps I've just read too many crime thrillers? 

Some readers of this review will react to my first two objections and say well this is only a novel, and that I’m taking it all too seriously. To that, I’d answer the following. This novel’s strength (as I mentioned above) is predicated on its believability and the research the author has conducted. She’s a psychologist herself, has worked with the police, and specifically states that she's consulted a forensic psychologist and expert in psychopathy. And again, as mentioned above, she's done this to huge success. Putting aside my second objection about lecturing the police, when the plot delves into psychopathy to a deeper extent, the narrative quickly becomes fascinating and original. But the problem with aiming for authenticity is that even the slightest flaws are magnified. At least that’s how it is for me. If I’m reading a book that doesn’t wear its authenticity on its sleeve them I’m a lot more forgiving. But when a work aims for authenticity I find even the slightest divergence rips me from the narrative flow.

That all said, I want to return to the good, because I really did enjoy this book. I’ll be careful about spoilers here, but I want to say something about the baddie’s motivation. I mentioned how powerful forces appear to be at work scuppering the heroes' investigation. This led me to believe that there was going to be a grand conspiracy behind the plot. But then towards the denouement, it seemed that actually, the plot was more humble. I was quite disappointed thinking that the author had built up my expectations. But then when the novel ends its clear that the book has been left open for a sequel and some strands of the plot have been purposely left to be tied up in the next book. Personally, I’m a massive fan of this type of writing. There’s a lot of pressure on authors these days to wrap up each novel in a neat bundle. But the novels of the greats in crime fiction - James Elroy, Don Winslow, and others - often span a series and not everything is neatly tied together in the first or even the second novel in a series. Rather the plot is left to breathe and the reader gets a much greater experience as a result. The story that the author of this novel has spun has real potential and could easily span two or three books and so I think that actually, it ends quite perfectly. 

In conclusion, there’s a lot to like in this novel. There’s something of Fight-Club-meets-Silence-of-the-Lambs about this debut. Its also very reminiscent of The Following, the Fox television series starring Kevin Bacon, which told the story of an FBI officer trying to capture a serial killer who had inspired a cult of followers who killed in his name. With it’s tackling of our fears in the social media age, it’s also similar to Adrian McKinty’s The Chain. Whereas The Chain dealt with the chain emails of old (still sent to people via social media) this novel deals with the scares surrounding real or imagined social media games such as The Blue Whale. 

This is a gripping novel that kept me turning the pages. It was educational as well on psychopathy, once it moved beyond a list of symptoms as discussed in many other novels and films. It also has real potential for a sequel.

4 out of 5 stars