The Hand on the Wall, and the letdown resolution of the century

Two things I hate in almost equal measure: unsatisfying resolutions to mysteries, and unsatisfying resolutions to trilogies. This book has both. If you love Stevie, you think her and David make a cute couple and you're overall convinced that her detective skills are anything more than a series of ex machinas, you can stop reading now, you're not going to like what I have to say.

The rest of you, buckle up. We're diving in head first into spoilers, and my scathing disappointment with how Maureen Johnson wrapped up her series.

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I liked Truly Devious, and got over my dislike of Stevie as a character because I was genuinely hooked by this mystery. The Vanishing Stair is probably my favourite, and an exceptionally executed sequel - as the threads start to spool out and it becomes obvious there are more pieces of the puzzle than we originally though, I was drawn in by the flashbacks (some of which gave me goose bumps!), and even the ridiculously extra romance between Stevie and David couldn't put me off. So I picked up Hand on the Wall expecting more artful flashback, and a masterful weaving of the threads back into a thrilling answer to the multiple questions we've been asking ourselves since the first instalment.

Unfortunately, none of these elements were forthcoming. 80% of the flashbacks feel more like waffling than actual exposition, and so many exciting opportunities for tying the timelines together are overlooked that by the time Johnson delivers the answer to the great mystery (which Stevie has uncovered because PLOT), I was shrugging my shoulders in a 'Is that it? Meh' motion previously evoked by the likes of Pretty Little Liars.

Think about the most boring explanation conceivable. That's the bigged-up solution to the crime of the century. Any fan theory you may have had before starting the final book of the trilogy is guaranteed to be better than the actual resolution. In fact, I'd recommend just looking up the spoilers somewhere and not bothering with the actual novel - save your money for good murder mysteries, like The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle.

To add insult to injury, the characters seem to get worse in this book as well. David goes from a slightly douchey individual with a tough childhood which makes you feel kind of sorry for him to a complete arse-face who only evokes a desire to punch him in the face. Why is he being such an ass? REASONS.

Stevie also really ramps up all her worst qualities. You've seen the memes about various characters across pop culture, but I think Stevie is truly the embodiment of 'Stevie, no!' [Stevie does the thing anyways]. Nowhere is that as blatantly obvious as in her misguided hunt for the secret digs of someone whose diary clearly shows they were deranged. This particular episode on the book had me practically shouting 'That's SUCH a stupid idea!' (a sentiment which is ironically repeated back at me from Ms Detective herself a chapter later).

Also, I'm not buying that whole bullshit with Stevie not wanting to reveal the secret of Alice's parentage. She's your classic know-it-all, always-right, show-off detective wannabe. If she has the answer, she'll tell you the answer. Plus, isn't her family poor? I find it hard to believe that she'd turn down ALL of the money. *eyeroll*

On the whole, I was quite disappointed with the resolution of the series and the mystery, but at least now I know the answer and can speculate freely about how much better my theory was. That would teach me to manage my expectations when it comes to murder mysteries.

3/5 stars