Book Review: Aftermath by Terri Blackstock
I picked up Aftermath with a mix of nostalgia and excitement. Terri Blackstock holds a special place in my heart as the mastermind behind the gripping If I Run trilogy, which captivated me with its blend of nuance and suspense. I would often scour the library shelves for her latest offerings, so when a new book by her popped up, I nearly snatched it off the shelf with glee. Little did I know, this journey would leave me feeling baffled and somewhat disheartened.
At first glance, Aftermath follows familiar territory. It introduces a haunting backdrop involving cancer, emotional trauma, and the complexities of life and death. The first quarter unfurls rather predictably, echoing the Christian suspense genre that Blackstock has maneuvered so well in the past. Unfortunately, it quickly spirals into a bewildering mess of implausibilities that defy logic and research.
The characters just didn’t resonate the way I hoped they would. Take the distressing portrayal of a husband mourning his wife’s cancer battle—his struggle seems overshadowed by a bizarre fixation on wearing a mask, just as his wife’s condition deteriorates. This bizarre contradiction jumped off the page, illustrating how misguided priorities can overshadow life’s gravest threats. It felt more like an authorial agenda than genuine character development.
Speaking of character arcs, one featured character struggles with OCD, which could have served as a powerful discussion point on mental health. Instead, the plot pivots to her bizarre fixation on a man, leading her to Walmart for a gun. I mean, as someone who appreciates sound mental health portrayals, this was a head-scratcher. It’s like the narrative took a dive into chaos without a life jacket in sight.
The inconsistencies continued to pile up. Blood donations taking place at the hospital without any mention of compatibility? A protagonist’s husband succumbing to a “weed overdose” that mimics meth effects? For someone who values authentic storytelling underscored by research, these elements were jarring and distracting.
Moreover, the narrative’s pacing struggled; at times, moments that should have provoked tension felt rushed, while others dragged on. It left me wondering if the author was attempting to juggle too many themes: grief, mental illness, terrorism, and faith—but the execution fell flat.
While I am inclined to forgive occasional blips in a narrative, Aftermath feels more like an unpolished idea. It darts from one extreme to another, occasionally eliciting chuckles rather than tension. Despite my frustrations, I can see how this book might offer an absurdly entertaining experience for someone looking for a light, if flawed, read in the Christian suspense genre.
In closing, while I cherished the time spent reading this book, it unfortunately didn’t live up to the high standards set by Blackstock’s earlier works. If you have a taste for novels that defy realism yet spark unexpected laughter, you might find Aftermath an amusing adventure. But if you value coherent storytelling and nuanced characters, you may want to look elsewhere. As for me? I’ll hold onto my beloved If I Run trilogy while hoping for a return to form from Blackstock in the future.
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