Bookmarked: ‘Dear Debbie’ Gives Psychotic Advice with a Knife Twist

Don’t get mad. Get revenge.

Frieda McFadden’s newest release “Dear Debbie” is here, flaunting a brand-new, intricately woven tale of disturbing proportions. This time, the “queen of thrillers” presents a new twist — the story’s a horrific flop.

Contrary to her popular title, “The Housemaid,” McFadden’s Jan. 27 novel includes more creative liberties taken by the author. As the 32nd addition to her frightening collection of bestselling works, the writer’s suspenseful text follows an anti-hero through her mental breakdown rather than the morally-grey heroines signature to her books. 

The story follows the troubled advice columnist Debbie Mullen, whose outwardly collected housewife demeanor is a mere mask for the horrors she’s experienced throughout her past. The bitter character keeps an archived collection of her advice articles, each one articulating the various methods of torture or murder fellow New England spouses can do to get revenge on those who deserve it most.

“Now, Debbie’s done being the bigger person,” McFadden writes in the synopsis. “It’s time to take her own advice.”

While the fan-favorite feminine rage trope is worthy of celebration, Debbie’s obsession with the people who wronged her seems like the perfect incentive for occupational therapy. The disturbed Debbie prefers to plot premeditated murder. 

McFadden’s novels are usually family-friendly to some extent, but this one brought trigger warnings to a whole new level. Themes of sexual assault, substance abuse, trauma and violence bounce between pages, crafting a world of horror from the power of the written word.

Instead of using her feelings of anger or frustration as a means to create a character that advocates for sexual assault survivors, McFadden takes Debbie on an off-the-rails detour of gruesome revenge plots that serve anything but justice. 

The writer freehands another flop through the novel’s absence of the legal system as Debbie miraculously avoids both arrest and general suspicion for any of the horrendous actions she commits.

If readers weren’t confused enough, McFadden writes additional chapters through the lenses of Cooper Mullen, Debbie’s wife, and Harley, Debbie’s fitness trainer, to give context into the lives of the secondary characters. Unfortunately, the two lack social awareness and general morality as well, making them equally difficult to root for throughout the work’s laborious 69 chapters. 

Despite McFadden’s undeniable success in the literary world, “Dear Debbie” feels like an author’s frazzled attempt to meet a procrastinated deadline rather than a carefully curated story of psychological suspense. The narrative blends equally evil characters with a sadistically speedy plot pace, transforming the reading experience from an enjoyable pastime to an astounding annoyance. 

Rest assured, if “Dear Debbie” ever makes its way into a university library, consider steering clear of the disappointing disaster lying within the pages. Some stories are better left unread.

“Dear Debbie” is available wherever books are sold.