When a beautiful, aspiring writer strides into the East Village bookstore where Joe Goldberg works, he does what anyone would do: he Googles the name on her credit card.
There is only one Guinevere Beck in New York City. She has a public Facebook account and Tweets incessantly, telling Joe everything he needs to know: she is simply Beck to her friends, she went to Brown University, she lives on Bank Street, and she’ll be at a bar in Brooklyn tonight—the perfect place for a “chance” meeting.
As Joe invisibly and obsessively takes control of Beck’s life, he orchestrates a series of events to ensure Beck finds herself in his waiting arms. Moving from stalker to boyfriend, Joe transforms himself into Beck’s perfect man, all while quietly removing the obstacles that stand in their way—even if it means murder.
I feel like I underestimated just how twisted you were going to be. Just how creepy. How intense.
You had me addicted, lured into your twisted games and your pretentious talk about books and literature. I could almost feel you watching me, dissecting my tweets and monitoring my emails. You had me on the edge, a bit more wary of the world. You claimed me. You had me desperate to find out more.
Everyone should read you. Feel your stare on their back as they take their morning jog, have pieces of their lives nestled in the hole in your wall, have their very existence running through your mind 24/7. They won’t know you’re watching. You will charm them with your wit and your extensive knowledge.
You may be viewed as vile and crude and offensive but you are an excellent creation. A giant warning sign. A memorable character committing a heinous act after heinous act. You are an advert for all the things men shouldn’t be, the things our parents warn us about.
You were an utterly amazing read. Suspenseful. Thrilling.