The Fury by Alex Michaelides

Elliott Chase is all about that love life. Seriously, it's like his ultimate quest, the thing he can't stop thinking about. And whether love is there or not, it messes him up big time, just like it did when he was flying solo in the love department. In "The Fury," Elliott spills the beans about a murder, but here's the twist – he's like the definition of an unreliable storyteller. I mean, I'm not even sure if I can trust a single word he's saying. Picture this: Elliott's sharing the whole murder saga like we're chilling in a pub. It's that moment when the night's winding down, we've had a couple of drinks, and we're just looking for some good stories from the one and only Elliott Chase. But here's the thing about Alex Michaelides' third novel, (unlike his first and even his second)

– I never found myself rooting for Elliott. He's more like a used car salesman than a guy who's been around the block, and his weird obsession with fame just makes it all even weirder. I couldn't get into his side of the story, and that's a bit of a problem when he's spilling all the juicy details. Sure, if you're a diehard Michaelides fan, you might still get a kick out of it. But for the more laid-back readers like me, you can probably give this one a pass.