Novels No. 94

 

Liann Zhang. Julie Chan Is Dead. Canada: Simon & Schuster, 2025.

How’s this for creepy: Julie Chan finds her estranged twin sister Chloe Van Huusen dead; the body has lain on her condo floor for some time. The identical twins, raised differently, were like strangers to each other—Chloe was a popular internet influencer, Julie is an impoverished supermarket clerk—Julie went there to confront Chloe about exploiting her in a video. In the shock and confusion with police and paramedics, an overwhelmed Julie is thought to be the condo owner and she dazedly grasps the opportunity to be her own twin. Zhang works it seamlessly as truly do-able. In the following days, “Chloe” melts into the influencer world with her personal assistant Fiona and an elite gaggle of peers called Belladonnas, named after Bella Marie, reigning queen of the cyberwaves. No one suspects Chloe’s not Chloe; any blanks or missteps are attributed to grief over sister Julie’s death.

Somehow I’ve landed in the rich and famous excess lifestyle again; not only that, it’s about two generations younger, complete with unfamiliar attitudes and vocabulary. The young women embrace self-promotion and offer each other unctuous support in stock phrases and buzz words. Sometimes Julie/Chloe feels guilty about her deception; most of the time she’s wallowing in the financial rewards of sponsorship ... promoting products in coy videos; building the fan base. A vacation week for the Belladonnas at Bella Marie’s incredibly luxurious island estate reinforces their usage of robot-like affirmations and the strength of group manifestation. To the point of revolting cultish rituals and a delusional higher power. Could the author possibly be more cynical than I am?

It’s satire for millennials. There’s no denying that Zhang is ingenious in how she skewers the dependence on “socials” and electronics. Julie/Chloe does have a humorous mouth on her, and there is some definite entertainment, but the repetitive, mindless saccharine of self-absorbed influencers is boring. Persistent as I was in sticking until the end, I can safely say that ultimately our heroine does not drink the Kool-Aid.

Bits

▪ I deserve it, don’t I? Chloe had everything while I suffered with nothing. Isn’t this karmic justice unfolding before me? (39)

▪ “I’m sorry, Chloe. That seriously sucks. Like, literally sucks so much. That’s actually, like, legit so sad.” (50)

▪ My twin died and I stole her life, which might be a felony, yet somehow, my biggest concern right now is how to fit into a dress. (61)

▪ I didn’t know how good it could feel to have a community of supportive fans at my fingertips. One tap and the world floods me with love. I feel like a god. (104-5)

▪ Ever since capitalizing on mental health struggles became a profitable thing to do, grief manifestos are a dime a dozen. (132)

▪ I’m itching for it—the fix of social media. Without it, I’m empty, a void. An iPad kid without her iPad. (175)

▪ “She died and you found her body. Super traumatic or whatever, rest in peace, yada yada.” (191)

▪ Is it possible that they’re drugging me with all those drinks? With the food? (245)

Peter May. The Critic. 2007. UK: Quercus, 2014.

(In-house find.) While teaching in France, Scottish forensics expert Enzo Macleod decides to investigate the bizarre murder of top American wine critic, Gil Petty. To the annoyance of gendarme David Roussel who had never found the killer. The victim’s body was discovered (displayed!) in the woods at Fabien Marre’s farm. Gaillac, the story’s general location, is the centre of a lesser-known wine region and it’s busy harvest time. Macleod makes no secret of his intent among the locals—winegrowers rep Laurent de Bonneval; his landlords Paulette and Pierric; leader of l’Ordre de la Dive Bouteille, Jean-Marc Josse; and so on. His internet-savvy student Nicole will assist in searching Petty’s computer files, among belongings being retrieved by Petty’s daughter Michelle.

An attempt to kill Macleod comes very soon, as he crosses a working wine field in the dark. It’s imperative to study Petty’s notes and wine ratings for Gaillac vineyards wherein a motive for murder may lie—Petty had the serious power to make or break a vineyard’s reputation and fortunes. Macleod is no hardboiled private eye but he’s often surrounded by women—seductive Michelle, on-and-off lover Charlotte, his daughter Sophie who arrives with boyfriend Bertrand, and Nicole. Oops, another body turns up, same location, same gruesome condition; the man was on Roussel’s list of missing persons. Analyzing traces of wine that preserved the bodies could help identify the killer—if he doesn’t nail McLeod first. Consuming large quantities of wine as well as his favourite whisky apparently sharpens Macleod’s science skills and helps him cope with domestic issues.

No real surprises here, with a lame (IMO) motivational reveal, but rich in atmosphere and action details. Bonus: All you ever wanted to know about the French wine industry. In addition, you have serious instructions for learning the steps of wine-tasting comme le sommelier. The prolific Peter May has written five Enzo McLeod books, among other mystery series and standalones.

Aperitifs

▪ “Petty was missing for a year before his body turned up. Not only did you fail to find him, you didn’t even know he’d been murdered until his killer decided to put him on public display.” (14)

▪ “The autopsy report said he’d drowned in wine, then twelve months later turned up in a Gaillac vineyard pickled red and partially preserved.” (51)

▪ Roussel grinned. “The piece I read credited you with many things, Monsieur Macleod. Modesty wasn’t one of them.” (60)

▪ “He had more power to determine people’s tastes in wine, and the price of it, than any one man should ever have.” Enzo spoke with feeling. (83)

▪ “For someone who wasn’t speaking to him, you seem to know a lot about your father.” (96)

▪ “But there are those of us who produce the wine, and there are others who leech off it. Those who produce nothing but fancy words, impose their tastes and fill their pockets.” (113)

▪ “The thing is, Enzo, I’d say that you were dealing with someone suffering from a serious personality disorder. Which means it won’t be a simple matter to find reason in his motive.” (134)

▪ “Just as I’m harvesting the fruits of my labour, some foreigner playing amateur detective comes snooping around my vineyard, disrupting my vendange, threatening my livelihood.” (223)