Review: Beautiful Ugly

Beautiful Ugly by Alice Feeney
My rating: 2.5 of 5 stars

Alice Feeney’s Beautiful Ugly is set in the Isle of Amberly, a storm-battered shard of land off Scotland’s wild coast, where Grady Green, a writer frayed by sorrow, chases silence to mend his shattered stories. His wife, Abby, a journalist who hunted truths, has vanished, leaving only whispers and a wound in Grady’s soul.

The island’s community guards secrets that curl around him like fog. This psychological thriller, packed with twists, pulled me into its shadowy grip, but, I confess, its truths often felt too flimsy to hold firm.

Feeney’s prose paints Amberly quite well, with rain-drenched cliffs, seas that murmur unease. The island feels alive and somewhat claustrophobic, much like the haunting Minnesota of All the Dangerous Things. Grady’s voice, raw and stumbling, draws me into his unravelling mind. His grief, his lack of inspiration to write, feels achingly real.

The pacing is a restless current, with short chapters that surge forward, making me eager to unravel the next twist. Yet, the story’s believability stumbles. The islanders’ intricate schemes feel overly crafted, almost theatrical. Grady’s motivations, at times, seem to float free of logic, more plot-driven than human. I wanted to sink into this world, to believe in its darker aspects, but the obstacles kept me away, leaving twists feeling more built than born. It saddened me a bit, as the themes of grief, betrayal, and memory’s slipperiness are quite well-developed.

The standout, though, is Feeney’s unreliable narrator. Grady’s mind, clouded by sleepless nights and guilt, blurs reality into something slippery, and I love the unease it stirs, reminiscent of her clever work in Sometimes I Lie.

Beautiful Ugly is a troubled and imperfect tale, ideal for readers who enjoy psychological suspense with a twisty centre and don’t mind a lack of verisimilitude. If you are enthralled with books rich in sorrow and deception, in which narrators mislead even their own hearts, this story might be for you. If you, like me, harbour, a desire for a tale as solid as the rocks upon which it is set, you might take another path.

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