Before I Go to Sleep by S. J. Watson
Our memories define us. What if you kept losing yours whenever you went to sleep? Your name, identity, history, and even the people you love were all suddenly lost. Additionally, the one person you trust can be giving you a partial account. Greetings from Christine’s world. Every morning, she wakes up in a strange bed next to a stranger. In the bathroom mirror, she notices a middle-aged face that she is unfamiliar with. Every morning, the man gently explains that he is her husband Ben, that she is 47 years old, and that a long-ago accident left her memory impaired. Christine has a few pictures, a whiteboard in the kitchen, and a journal stashed away in a closet in place of memories.
Before I Go to Sleep by S. J. Watson
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Dr. Ed Nash, a neurologist who claims to be caring for her without Ben’s knowledge, tells her of the journal every day, so she is aware of it. The injured woman has started methodically documenting her daily activities within its pages—sessions with Dr Nash, tidbits of information shared by Ben, and flashes of her previous life that momentarily, magically appear.
But as the pages mount, contradictions start to show up, posing unsettling concerns that Christine is determined to address. She continues to piece together the parts of her shattered existence, and the closer she gets to the truth, the more horrifying and lethal it becomes.
This home thriller was written by a guy from the perspective of a woman. After an editor asked me if I wanted to write a blurb for it, I read it when it was still in manuscript form. These demands come in frequently. Ah, that seems like just a smart ploy, I thought. But after reading the first paragraph, I was sold.
It just has such a strong female voice resemblance. A woman awakens gently in bed as the story begins. Oh my God, what have I done now? she exclaims as she notices a strange man lying next to her.
She enters the bathroom, looks in the mirror, and is startled to discover that she is 20 years older than she had assumed. All of these inquiries arise right away. She then discovers a letter she sent to herself. “Don’t trust your husband,” it commands.
That’s really terrifying.
It’s a terrific illustration of how intense suspense may be created without the use of violence. The book’s conclusion contains only significant violence. Everything else is a gradual revelation of what actually occurred. She suffers from a type of amnesia in which she loses all recollection at night. She must therefore reassemble the puzzle every morning.
