A Serial Killer's Guide to Marriage

The couple that kills together, stays together. Or do they? That's pretty much the premise of A Serial Killer's Guide to Marriage. Meet Fox and Haze Cabot, a beautiful young couple living the suburban dream with their young daughter, Bibi. All is not as it seems however, as the couple have a secret; they are serial killers.

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s A Serial Killer’s Guide to Marriage About?

I had a long and drawn-out version of this planned, but I scrapped it when I realized it would be longer than everything else in the post—and you’d be in better hands if you read Mackay’s version.

So I’m going to try to be brief.

Every parent knows that having a child changes your life. There are two distinct phases—pre-child and post-child. If you’re in a marriage/long-term relationship, that changes, too. Significantly. Generally, it’s worth it—but we all know the “remember when we did X when we wanted to?” feeling. We all have to find new ways to relate to our partners, ways to keep things exciting.

But what if that X was killing people? People who abused women, in particular. What if the thing that brought them together, their joint purpose was this particular vigilantism—along with the travel necessary? What would they do after they had to put it aside for the safety and well-being of a daughter?

What would that do to their relationship? What would it do to them as individuals? What kinds of strain would be caused?

These, and many other questions, are answered in A Serial Killer’s Guide to Marriage

Hazel

You are going to almost instantly appreciate Hazel’s voice and perspective (assuming you can put up with the whole serial killing thing. But if you can’t, you’re probably not reading a book with this title)—part of that is because we start with her POV, partially because she’s a great character that anyone wants to identify with and empathize with.

She wants the best for her daughter and her husband. She’s a devoted mother and dotes on the girl. But she misses who she was. She misses who she and Fox were. She feels shackled by his decision to hang up their knives and live a “straight” life while raising their daughter (children?). She mostly agrees with the choice, but it chafes.

Hazel has never been good at making friends, but she’s trying to fit into her new, suburban life—going to mommy and baby groups, trying to forge relationships. And she is beginning to forge a friendship with a fellow mother when she discovers she’s made a bad choice. This new friend is a police officer.

Whoops.

Gripe #1: Fox’s Perspective

Fox does not make a good first impression—or at least Hazel doesn’t leave us with a good first impression. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long to see something from his perspective and it became possible to empathize with him some. In fact, once we get to see his self-deprecating wit, it’s hard for a reader not to like the guy a little—and to realize that Hazel was being (understandably) uncharitable.

It’s a thing that happens in marriage from time to time—especially the kind that could probably use a guide to marriage.

Fox is incredibly careful and thoughtful (about their criminal activities, anyway, not so much about his wife’s feelings). He does do much for Hazel—for their family’s sake—that he doesn’t tell her about, or explain fully.

There were two angles to things with Fox’s perspective that I think hurt the book as a whole while being things that Mackay clearly intended and I probably just don’t appreciate enough. The first is that we don’t know everything he’s up to and/or knows—this is done so we can learn about it at the same time as Hazel, which works for dramatic effect. But it feels like Mackay is cheating a little bit to get us there.

The other part comes as a result of Fox’s place in the novel—as a character, he’s second banana to Hazel. What she’s doing and thinking is far more important (and I get that), but in addition to having a lot hidden from us, parts of his story are rushed. There’s…a situation back in the States with his family’s company. We get a glimpse or two at it, and then it’s largely resolved—off-screen. It felt like a missed opportunity.

Gripe #2: Communication

One decent conversation with the person each thinks of as a soulmate. One decent conversation between people we see do so much for each other. One decent conversation between people who would die—or kill—for the other.

That’s all it’d take to make this a short story instead of a novel.

Or better yet, put them on a better footing so they could do other things together.

Yes, this is what happens between marriages all the time. Even ones where neither is a criminal of any kind. So it makes sense for Mackay to show this. But it could’ve been resolved quicker so we could see them as a couple (more or less on the same page, but not at loggerheads) when dealing with Fox’s family, Haze’s complicated taste in friends, parenting, etc., etc.

Sure, that’s not the story Mackay wanted to write—so I really shouldn’t gripe about it. But watching how she did everything else (very well, I want to stress), I’d have enjoyed seeing this version more.

So, what did I think about A Serial Killer’s Guide to Marriage?

I really enjoyed it. I wanted more from it though, as my second gripe (which looks worse on the page than it is in my mind) indicates—I think Mackay could easily have brought us something better. More like the Mr. and Mrs. Smith TV show than the movie (not that this is a great comparison in several ways, but it captures the gist).

So I’m going to move on from it there.

This is really aspirational in so many ways—their lifestyle? (obviously minus the murdering bits) Either in the carefree pre-parenthood days, or even the suburban version—is something that few of us will see. The travel, the house, the standard of living—it’s fun to imagine yourself there.

And honestly, we all sort of like the idea of being a lone vigilante (or a pair), doing the things the authorities don’t or can’t. Fox sees the comparison to a comic book figure—and embraces it with a grin. Readers will do the same.

At the end of the day, this is silly, trashy, fun—and I mean that as a compliment. I’m pretty sure that’s what Mackay was going for, and she achieved it. (if that wasn’t her aim, she still hit the mark). I think most readers are going to like it more than I did—I have a short list of people I’m gifting it to, and I am confident they will. Anyone who finds the pitch appealing is going to have fun with this Dexter-ish* comedy, and I recommend it to you.

* Heavy on the “ish.”

Disclaimer: I received this eARC from Random House Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for this post—thanks to both for this.