Dead Letters is a mystery and psychological thriller about a dysfunctional family and two unhealthily entwined twins. It is also about how relationships with those closest to us can be an unending source of unhappiness, if that is what we choose.

Ava has felt stifled by her family. Her mother has dementia, her father left them to start another family and conflict with her twin sister, Zelda, has dominated her existence. She now lives in Paris, when she receives an unexpected email from her mother… Zelda is dead.

The whole thing was so very Zelda. Too Zelda. When I finally reached my mother on the phone, she slurrily told me that the barn had caught fire with Zelda trapped inside. pg 8

From the very beginning, Ava has her doubts about Zelda’s “accidental” death. Then, when the police reveal evidence that points towards a murder, things begin to spiral out of control.

Adding to the confusion, Ava and Zelda are/were identical. The whole community confuses one sister for the other. Even their own mother, whose mind is slipping away, calls Ava by her dead sister’s name.

Alcohol contributes its own fog to this story as Ava deals with her childhood demons while tangling with some new ones.

Not wanting to acknowledge consciousness in that desperate, dry-mouthed morning-after horror, I’m eventually forced to crack open my eyes. Jolted awake in suddenly sober distress, I blink owlishly and struggle to open my exhausted, quivering eyes, which are agonizingly dry, filched of liquid. … I should quit drinking, I reflect. It’s not the first time I’ve had this thought. pg 170

And, of course, there’s the highschool sweetheart hanging around and the relationship that ended very badly, as if Ava doesn’t have enough going on.

The mystery of this story isn’t all that mysterious, but the characters and the slow unwinding of the past are superb. I read this book almost in one sitting the day before Thanksgiving and it made me appreciate my own fairly-functional family much more.

Our mother had started her mimosas somewhat earlier, and I knew from her glassy eyes and gingery steps that Nadine was approaching the danger zone, the state between mildly and mindlessly drunk wherein she could marshal enough sobriety to do real damage but was uninhibited enough to not care how much damage was inflicted. pg 116

We can’t control what’s happened to us in the past, but moving forward, our lives are what we make of them. Look at the stories you tell yourself and examine why you do the things you do. You wouldn’t want, like the characters in this tale, to be controlled by incessant competition, booze or your weight on a scale, would you?

Caite Dolan-Leach doesn’t turn over every stone, leaving some of the characters’ pasts foggy. But she leaves hints everywhere and allows readers to fill in the blanks.

A criticism: some of the twists in the story are too perfectly orchestrated, and I doubted that such things would be possible, even with intricate planning and if you knew someone as well as you know yourself.

I’ll certainly have plenty to talk about at book club tonight. It was a good pick and I’d recommend it for other groups who read psychological thrillers. There’s a lot to unpack: the family dynamic, mystery, thrills, romance, layered characters and alcohol, so much alcohol.

Thanks for reading!

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