“Leave this alone while you still can.”

This is a book that enthralled me. It kept me on my toes, had me second-guessing what I had classed as fact, and featured a genuinely likeable main character. Originally, I got this second-hand copy on Vinted, and then lent it out to four of my friends and both of my parents. We all whizzed through it in the space of a day or two—a credit to Holly Jackson’s writing. Safe to say, my copy is incredibly weathered (and loved).

Synopsis

Andie Bell. Schoolgirl royalty. Beautiful. Intelligent. Beloved by all in the town of Little Kilton. She would have gone far—if she hadn’t been murdered by her boyfriend, Sal Singh.

It was an open-and-shut case. So why, five years later, won’t Pippa Fitz-Amobi let it go? Something never felt right; it was all tied up too neatly, with Sal conveniently killing himself. So what better way to prove someone’s innocence than with an unapproved school project? And who better to do this than Pip: determined, resourceful, and relentlessly analytical?

Narrative Presentation

I would like to begin by applauding how engaging and detailed the visuals of this book are. Our first two pages consist of Pip’s Extended Project Qualification (EPQ) candidate proposal, a form that most British A-level students would recognise. It is complete with her signature, and immediately establishes the fact that she has been strongly advised against her chosen topic. The fact Pip goes ahead anyway introduces us to her intense moral compass, showcasing how she fixates on what is right, rather than what is expected.

Interwoven throughout the prose are Pip’s production logs, effectively typed in a different font and labelled with the date and entry number. Any evidence she collects is pictured, often including Pip’s handwriting annotating maps, photographs, and diary entries. Any interviews she conducts are presented as transcripts, emails are formatted like a website, and police reports have sections redacted. This epistolary form is what makes this series so immersive and utterly believable. At every stage, the reader is given exactly the same information as Pip, and we get to witness the intricacies of her mind as she puts the pieces together. This is done exceptionally well, as often mysteries can rely on the narrator withholding key information in favour of suspense or a grand reveal, but Holly Jackson has crafted this plot with such complexity that we are able to be just as involved as our protagonist. 

Realism and Humour

“You know you use humour as a defense mechanism when you’re rattled?”

Perhaps my favourite aspect of Jackson’s style is her realism. Text messages include abbreviations (e.g. cba or thx), or the typically British ‘xx’ on the end, making it believable that these are teenagers using technology. Furthermore, any email addresses or social media handles are true to the character’s personalities, as opposed to cheap attempts at being ‘trendy’. 

Despite the darker aspects of the plot, Jackson’s degree of realism allows for underlying threads of comedy; these are young people dealing with distressing situations the only way they know how—dark humour.

“Can you stop bleeding all over the murder board, please?” 

“Well, that was fun. Thanks for the invite to my first blackmailing.”

“Real men wear floral when trespassing.”

Our main source of comic relief is Ravi. He’s subtly charming with an endearing awkwardness that compliments Pip’s blunt and dry humour. Their exchanges are quick-witted and engaging, which not only makes them an enjoyable detective duo, but also establishes a strong platonic foundation for their romantic chemistry to develop.

British Teenage Hood

Another reason why A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder resonated with me and my peers so much is the fact that Pip has a quintessentially British experience of rural teenage hood. I grew up in a countryside town not too dissimilar to Little Kilton, and consequently found myself relating to aspects of Pip’s day-to-day life. Surrounded by fields and woodland, with little other than a church and a pub in the village, the teenagers resort to chaotic house parties referred to as ‘calamities.’ These often involve far too many people squeezed into someone’s living room, with those who smoke exiled outside so the smell doesn’t linger on their parents’ furniture. 

When the BBC adapted the series for television, this was something they changed, which particularly annoyed me. Instead of a house, the calamity location is a tunnel of underground caves on the outskirts of the village, rather than the unappealing, sweaty living room with “wet carpet patches” and “condensation-dripping walls.” Jackson perfectly describes the experience of being too sober to ignore how gross the room is at one of these parties, yet this isn’t communicated in the adaptation. It felt as though they wanted the party to have a wider appeal internationally by making it dangerous and exciting—more fitting for Netflix, but its original charm came from how average it was. 

After all the build-up about how wild the ‘calamities’ are, when Pip finally attends one she is severely disappointed. There is nothing enticing about being drunk in a classmate’s front-room, but that was the point. In a rural place like Little Kilton, where everyone knows everyone, teenagers often keep themselves entertained by taking turns hosting the school year for a night of underage drinking. By changing this to a maze of caves, the TV show lost the essence of why these parties are so crucial to the plot. In the book, the village is so uneventful that the excitement has to come from the people attending, rather than the party itself. By making the party a more extravagant event, this message is lost.

The importance of retaining this authenticity becomes even clearer, when analysing the multiple editions. Whilst researching to write this review, I discovered that there were actually two editions of this book released—the original UK version, and one set in the US for American readers. While the plot stays the same, much of the characterisation is lost due to the removal of Britishness: pop culture references are changed, whole paragraphs cut, and even the date it’s set is two years later. Pip’s “pipisms” (her rambling) are changed, in the UK version she spouts random facts when she’s nervous, while in the US version she simply talks more.

Most significantly, a conversation between Pip and Ravi about race is cut. In it, Pip acknowledges that Victor (her step-dad, whom she calls dad) made sure she grew up knowing that they have very different experiences of the world due to him being Black. Pip’s awareness of racial prejudice in her mostly white village is one of the reasons she doesn’t treat the Singhs with the same racial prejudice that the rest of Little Kilton do, using Sal’s murder of Andie as an excuse.

Final Thoughts

The pacing of this book was great—suitably fast without skimping on detail or complexity. I didn’t find the reveals obvious, and I enjoyed that nothing felt like an unnecessary red herring. Each suspect felt believable, and I especially loved how methodical Pip was with her research. I really enjoyed the side characters too, particularly Pip’s dad, Victor, who thinks he’s hilarious for using slang such as “awesome sauce,” and her best friend Cara: bubbly, supportive, and loyal. 

Whilst marketed as YA, this book felt equally suitable for older readers, with an informal writing style that never felt childish or immature. I think it’s a testament to Holly Jackson’s skill that both myself and my 66-year-old father could enjoy this so immensely. 

There are two more books in the series that I would just as equally recommend: Good Girl, Bad Blood, and As Good As Dead.

“I can’t pretend like it’s over,’ she said. ‘It’s not finished.”