Like many people who answer, “I’m fine” when they are anything but, the title character of Gail Honeyman’s first novel is not, in fact, completely fine. Some colleagues in the office where she works think she’s “mental,” and on some level she is, for good reason. I would say she’s also lonely and analytical and naïve, and she often thinks or says things that are laugh-out-loud funny.
Exhibit A, the first paragraph, captures her voice perfectly:
When people ask me what I do—taxi drivers, dental hygienists—I tell them I work in an office. In almost nine years, no one’s ever asked what kind of office, or what sort of job I do there. I can’t decide whether that’s because I fit perfectly with their idea of what an office worker looks like, or whether people hear the phrase work in an office and automatically fill in the blanks themselves—lady doing photocopying, man tapping at a keyboard. I’m not complaining. I’m delighted that I don’t have to get into the fascinating intricacies of accounts receivable with them. When I first started working here, whenever anyone asked, I told them that I worked for a graphic design company, but then they assumed I was a creative type. It became a bit boring to see their faces blank over when I explained that it was back office stuff, that I didn’t get to use the fine-tipped pens and the fancy software.
Hers is the kind of voice that makes me want to write a novel myself. Throw in Raymond, an IT colleague who takes an interest in Eleanor, and you have even more reasons to keep reading.