31 Reads of Terror: 'The Butcher's Daughter' by Wendy Corsi Staub

You know, it would really save a lot of us a headache if publishers would make it clear on the cover when a book is the third installment in a series. I’ve found myself in this frustrating situation far too many times—like that one time I stumbled upon Wendi Corsi Staub's The Butcher's Daughter at Dollar General, picking it for a mere $3, probably more than a year or two ago. I remembered reading a few of her books ages ago and figured, “Why not?” I’m cursed with this habit of picking up series midway through, whether it’s book two or three. It’s almost a talent, if you consider my knack for blind optimism in picking these up.

Now, while The Butcher's Daughter can somewhat stand alone, there are enough subplots lurking in the shadows from the previous books—trust me, I can feel them crawling at the back of my mind, silently judging my choice to jump in at this point. Nevertheless, I managed to fill in the gaps as best I could and devoured the book in a single sitting, which, for me, is a feat akin to a marathon runner breaking the tape at the finish line—if only that marathon hadn’t felt a bit more like trudging through molasses.

The story revolves around Amelia Crenshaw, an investigative genealogist who has made a career out of piecing together the scattered fragments of her clients' family histories while her own remains a puzzle wrapped in layers of mystery. In a bizarre twist, she suspects the key to unraveling her birth parents' identities might be locked in a connection to a stranger who hires her to locate his long-lost daughter. Just when she thinks she’s in for a straightforward genealogical adventure, she’s blindsided by a deadly threat that ramps up the stakes in ways she couldn’t have anticipated.

Then there’s NYPD Detective Stockton Barnes, a man who walked away from his own child in what he believed to be her best interest. As he and Amelia race against time to uncover the truth, they stumble into dangerous territory where someone else has already made a move, and she’s a femme fatale with a vendetta. Their shared history uncovers a lineage entwined with one of history's most notorious killers—which, let’s face it, is just a little too on the nose, don’t you think? The apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree, and in this case, it rolls down a hill into a pit of trouble.

The narrative flits back and forth between 1968 and the contemporary world of 2020 (when this piece of work was published), and while I typically shudder at multiple timelines, I have to admit that this one actually makes the story work. It's the point-of-view shifts that really threw me off my game; they were like unexpected speed bumps that altered the pacing in a way that felt more jarring than engaging. And let’s not even talk about the parade of characters—at times, it was like trying to keep up with a crowded subway train during rush hour.

Yet, for all my grumbling, I did read The Butcher's Daughter in one swift sitting. Believe it or not, I can speed read faster than you can say “literary disappointment”—I can devour a 470-page tome in about an hour if the need arises. Sure, I’d much rather enjoy a leisurely read, immersing myself in the nuances of characters and story arcs, but sometimes life has other plans, and speed reading becomes my only option.

At the end of the day, though, The Butcher's Daughter was a letdown. I had higher hopes for Staub, who I remembered being capable of something a little less pedestrian; what I got felt like the standard fluff that the market seems oversaturated with these days. Perhaps my perspective would have shifted had I read the first two books, but honestly, I’m not optimistic that it would have made much of a difference. Would I recommend this? Absolutely not. But then again, who am I—a seasoned reader with my fair share of literary misadventures—to sway your decision? Read it, or don’t; it’s your call. Just consider this a friendly heads-up from someone who’s waded through these waters before. ╌★★✰✰✰

〜B.J. Burgess