The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James

Title: The Sun Down Motel

Author: Simone St. James

Series: N/A

Not her best but I still really enjoyed it

Well, let me tell ya. I wasn’t going to review this book because I’m bitter that Berkley wouldn’t allow me to read an ARC. I’ve praised St. James’s books up and down since I discovered them a few years ago; I’ve recommended them to friends and family; and I was allowed to read The Broken Girls six months early. But for some inexplicable reason, I was denied this one. You’re the only publisher who still cockblocks me, Berkley, and I don’t mind bitching about it. You publish many of my favorite authors. I will win you. It will happen.

So I put a hold on the ebook at my library and settled in to wait my turn. It got passed around surprisingly quickly and only nine days after it was released, I began reading it. A couple days later, I finished it. I was prepared to move on with my life—but then I saw some reviewers tearing this book a new one, and my fangirl hackles rose. I decided to show St. James support, because she’s one of my favorites, even if I’m not happy with her publisher at the moment. So here I am.

This book wasn’t terrible by any means. It had it’s flaws, sure; it wasn’t perfect. But if you’re a fan of St. James, I doubt you’ll be disappointed. I wasn’t. I do admit I prefer her earlier WWI-era gothics set in England, but I’ve enjoyed Sun Down and Broken Girls.

This was one of her less-spooky novels. The ghosts almost felt obligatory, especially considering the boy and Henry didn’t have anything to do with the plot. They were just there, being atmospheric. I kept theorizing in my head how they might be relevant and waited to find out…but never did. Betty was important but also rather…impotent? Though maybe she wouldn’t have seemed impotent if we’d seen the showdown at the end. But we didn’t. We got to watch Carly eat soup instead.

Then there was Nick. I’m not sure what purpose his backstory ultimately served. I kept waiting for that to tie in, too…but it never did. It remained unexplained, actually, and that was probably what bothered me most about the novel. It seemed so juicy and important but was apparently neither. As a character, though, I liked him. Some readers may find the eight- or nine-year difference in his and Carly’s ages creepy, but I don’t. At all. And maybe he wasn’t the most gallant man alive, but he wasn’t a bad one, either. I thought he had a sort of dark antihero charm to him, as St. James’s male protagonists often do. Jamie, too; yeah, he was a drug dealer and a criminal, but… There was something about him, a charisma that radiated, “I have a good heart.” I was delighted to learn that he and Viv had something of a relationship after everything happened.

I loved Viv and Carly. They very much fit the mold of a St. James female protagonist. Her protags are so much like myself; I believe they’re responsible for cultivating in me such a deep love for St. James’s work. They’re quiet girls with deep souls who live deep and quiet lives. I respected Viv and Carly’s maturity and intellect, and found their restlessness and morbid interests relatable. Also extremely relatable were their preferences for keeping to themselves and avoiding social occasions, though they of course had steadfast friends. And any female reader who scorns or scoffs at the fact that they were still virgins at twenty… You clearly lost yours before you were ready, and I’m sorry about that.

Marnie and Alma were strong female supporting characters, and I liked them. Heather was…complicated, but in the same way I am, so she actually found a special place in my heart.

The killer was a solid villain, though it’s unfortunate that his motivation completely lacked originality. St. James managed to make him feel menacing, though, at least in my opinion, so he worked well enough.

If you didn’t heed my spoiler warning above, I seriously caution you now.

Yes, in 1982 the killer was menacing—because he was alive and active. In 2017, he was long dead, but St. James still needed an antagonist for the present-day protagonists, so Callum MacRae was born. And he was a pretty pathetic excuse for a villain; he felt shoehorned in and was barely developed.

So yeah, the two biggest problems with this novel were weak villains and irrelevant characters or character backstories. Oh, and nitpick—how could Nick use his cell phone at the motel while it was useless for anyone else to even try to get a signal?

But overall, I really enjoyed this book, though it’s not St. James’s best work. I spent today reading it when I should have been working. I just couldn’t stop.

Oh, and I think my second favorite thing about St. James’s novels, behind the female protags who are my soulmates, is the unexpected humor. I actually laughed out a loud a few times. Faves:

“When he turned the screwdriver, mysterious and amazing things happened in the muscles and tendons of his forearms.”

“One man wrote, ‘I will not let my wife stay home alone.’ I pictured his wife popping Valium, thinking, Please leave me home alone. Just for ten minutes.”

Alma to her dog: “Stop it, you crazy thing. Honest to God, you’re an idiot.”

“[Nick:] ‘Believe me, if some scumbag decides he wants to murder people, the place he’s going to come to is Fell.’

‘It seems like a nice place to kill someone,’ I said politely.”

---