Whitney @ First Impressions Reviews
Written on Jun 9, 2013
A few weeks ago a fellow blogger, Elizabeth at Silver Reviews warned me that The Other Typist was a book I would have to talk about, and she was right! It was incredible. The ending was a complete twist that I did not see coming. and a week after reading it my head is still whirling. The Other Typist is as intoxicating as a good bottle of champagne.
I could picture The Other Typist as a 1930's film noir.
Shelley Winters would be a perfect Rose. Winters, who plays naive dowdy women to a tee. This describes the protagonist, Rose exactly. She only wants to be loved finding the wrong kind with her obsession with Odalie. I routed or her but at the same proclaimed "how dense can you get." She was like Barney Fife to Andy Griffith, only with a gun and a smidgen more brain -- but not much.
With the antagonist Odalie, I instantly thought of Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity. Cunning, beautiful, with the skills to wrap a man around her little finger. She is intoxicating. I could see how Rose because enamored with her.
I loved reading about the interstices of Rose's day job at the precinct as that is where all this dubiousness begins. No matter how fictional, I found the interactions in the workforce between the men and fairer sex really interesting as they must be treated with care outside of the interrogation room but when inside must take it as a man.
From the beginning the reader is aware that Rose is in a hospital of some sort (she makes it very clear) but how she ends up there in the 20,000 dollar question. The Other Typist was perfectly paced slowly unwinding a ball of yarn, deciphering Odalie's true character.
I am having a difficult time creating a conclusion for this review as there is so much I'd like to say, but think my excitment would carry off, giving away the jaw droping, "oh no you didn't" ending. Thus, I will end here.