This metafictional account of a murder is set in a refurbished California monestery, now a luxury hotel, during an ostensible writers' conference. But such a unlikely cast of characters would be hard to find. The famous mystery writer and keynoete speaker Ian McCloud, his resentful assistant Bennett, McCloud's occasional lover Simone, his agent who he has accused of stealing $2 million in royalties, an octogenarian wanna-be writer, McCloud's YouTube fan boy Darius, Isabel--a writer of fantasy novels, Jade a fake conference facilitator and her sister Jasmine. Everyone has secrets that make for motives when McCloud turns up dead. Publishers Weekly calls this a "clever if overlong meta-thriller..." and I have to agree with their concluding assessment: "Before long, a landslide blocks the monastery's sole access road, and a mysterious figure who seems to be orchestrating the action starts interrupting the plot to deliver tongue-in-cheek asides. Unfortunately, as these initially intriguing, fourth wall--breaking communiques become more frequent and frenetic, they begin to feel intrusive, a narrative device more successful in concept than execution. By the time a dead body turns up and an investigation gets underway, most readers will be exhausted--though Brody ties everything up with an admittedly killer finale. This is fun, but it overstays its welcome."
Kirkus was considerably more effusive in their praise, saying the book is "wildly metafictional account of what happens, or maybe happens, or sort of happens, to the participants in a mystery writers’ conference at a refurbished California monastery." They go on to this summary conclusion "As the characters ask whodunit, readers are more likely to ask how many other shameless cliches Brody, or another character identified as The Author who hovers over the whole mishmash, can cram into 560 pages—doubles, disguises, accusations and counter accusations, red herrings broadly identified as such, flash drives chock-full of incriminating information about everyone on the guest list—and how this can possibly end for characters who keep protesting, 'For the last time, this isn’t a mystery novel!…This is real life!' Spoiler: It’s a mystery novel that couldn’t possibly have less to do with real life. If you suspect anyone here of hiding a guilty secret, you’re absolutely right—except that these are actually unending layers of secrets.A gleeful demonstration of the universally acknowledged truth that 'if anyone can get away with murder, it’s a writer.'"









